RINCÓN DE GUAYABITOS, Mexico -- Elizabeth and I went on vacation to Mexico for a week, and it was fantastic. Neither of us had been to Mexico before, but we both spoke Spanish, so we figured it would be okay. We arranged to stay at a bed and breakfast operated by Bob Howell, a retired US Marine who lives in the small, seaside town of Rincón de Guayabitos, about an hour north of the tourist destination Puerto Vallarta. Bob doesn't charge very much: $50 per day to stay in a nice room with a king-sized bed, private bathroom, and balcony. Breakfast is also provided every day at 9 AM, prepared by his bed-and-breakfast business associate, Vicky, who really is indigenous Mexican.
We got into the airport in Puerto Vallarta at about 6 PM on Saturday, July 29, after getting up at 4 AM to catch a 6 AM flight out of Oakland. We learned from the website that Bob and Vicky also do humanitarian work down there. The $350 we paid last week didn't merely pay for the upkeep of the house; it also went into allowing them to distribute medical supplies down there.
We pretty much relaxed and walked on the beach Saturday night. We enjoyed some of Bob's margaritas, which are singularly amazing, and for which he has won several margarita-making contests. It rained in the evening, which is something we were dreading, but since it's about 90 degrees -- with humidity -- at dusk, the rain was actually cooling. We stayed in Mexico during the rainy season, and during the rainy season, it will pour for a few hours every day, and then stop. There are tremendous thunderstorms at night, too.
Sunday morning, Bob and Vicky drove us around the area and showed us what there was to see and do. Also, there was history. You see, after the Mexican Revolution, the old hacienda system -- with its thousands of acres and peasants -- was tossed out. The peasants became farmers who lived and worked in commune-style communities. While this was great for the farmers, it was bad for progress. The Mexican government bought the area of Guayabitos from the farmers about thirty years ago and developed it into a vacation destination. The beach is lined with "resorts" and hotels which contain bungalows, which are hotel rooms with kitchenettes inside. By and large, Guayabitos is where Mexicans go to vacation. Cancún, Alcapulco, Cabo San Lucas, and Puerto Vallarta are largely for gringos (white non-Spanish speakers, most frequently Americans, but also a hefty share of Canadians). Most Mexicans can't afford the American prices of resorts in those other towns, so they come to places like Guayabitos, where a swank bungalow at a nice hotel costs 500 pesos (a little less than $50) per night. As a result, we didn't encounter a single person who spoke actual English, other than the other Americans and Canadians who have moved to Guayabitos and now call it home.
And there are lots of them! One restaurant where we ate, Ricardo's, is located on Highway 200 and is the only place in town to get pizza. It's operated by Americans. Another place, whose name escapes me, is on Highway 200 and scarcely a quarter-mile from Ricardo's. It's actually a German restaurant operated by an actual German woman who now lives in Guayabitos. Still another non-Mexican restaurant is J&M's Place, located on the beach, which is operated by an American couple (and while the woman sounds like she's from Minnesota, her husband is from Transylvania). Eating at J&M's Place one night, we actually met all the other American restaurant owners we had seen during the week and had a very long conversation with the German woman about owning and operating a business in Mexico.
On Sunday, we began our many trips to the beach. The water on the beach at Guayabitos is about eighty degrees; it's like swimming in the bathtub. We spent hours down there with our boogie boards, soaking in the tropical sun, and getting sand everywhere.
Monday, we visited Tepic, the capital city of Nayarit, the state in which Guayabitos is located. Mexico is divided into thirty-some states, just like the United States, and each state has its own capital (in fact, Mexico's official name is Estados unidos de Mexico, the United States of Mexico). Public transporation in Mexico is much more advanced than in the United States, mostly because it has to be. Most Mexicans can't afford cars, so they have to take public transportation. As a result, Mexican transportation -- as in Europe -- is frequent and cheap. A 3-hour ride from Guayabitos to Tepic in an air-conditioned coach cost 200 pesos (about $20) each. Once we got to Tepic, taking the bus around the city cost 4 pesos (40 cents) each.
I've got an idea for a theme park ride. Picture the Indiana Jones Adventure at Disneyland, which is a dangerous "off-road" ride in a Jeep-style vehicle through an abandoned South American temple filled with spears, bats, fire, and rickety bridges over huge chasms. Now picture the same ride, but instead of a South American temple, you're in Tepic. I call this ride "Mexican Bus." City buses in Tepic come about every five minutes, which is good. The problem is stopping them once you're on them. The bus drivers go very fast and stop at stop signs only when other vehicles won't stop for them. Stop signs are more of a recommendation than a requirement. "If there's cross-traffic, stop. If not, go right on through without slowing down." And when the bus does stop, it stops immediately, decelerating in a heartbeat and causing your heart to skip a few beats.
Tepic has probably around 50,000 people, and about six of them are American. I have never been stared at as much in my life as when I was in Tepic. People would walk by us and then turn around and look again. One girl looked at us out of a window, then turned around, tugged on her brother's shirt, and brought him to the window to stare, too. Elizabeth and I were a novelty in a sea of mostly indigenous people. The Spanish never really conquered the Guayabitos area, and as a result, there are few mestizos here. Many of the people are full-blooded Indian, and they rarely, if ever, see white people. A girl and her two friends -- all about ten years old -- kept running by us as we sat in the plaza, giggling the whole time, and then running back.
While in Tepic, we went to a few museums and learned about the native populations in the area: the Huicholes, the Copas, and the Mexicaneros. Most of the people in the area are Huichole Indians. We also learned about los niños heroes, military academy cadets who attempted to fight off U.S. forces in The War of Northern Invasion (Mexico's name for what the U.S. calls The Mexican War). We also learned about Amado Nervo, a very famous Mexican poet who we had never heard of before, who hails from Tepic. His museum is located in his childhood home, which is pretty cool.
On Tuesday, we rested by the beach.
On Wednesday, we went horseback riding. For 200 pesos each ($20), we could ride horses up into the hills around Guayabitos, and then ride them back down. The whole trip took two hours, and was infinitely cheaper than anything to be had in the United States. Pretty much all Mexicans have heard of San Francisco, even if they've never been there. Our horse guide, making small talk with us at the top of the hill while the horses rested, told us that he had visited Los Baños, which is sort of near San Francisco (about two hours south).
Wednesday started interestingly when Vicky got an emergency request from Maria Eugenia, their domestic employee. (Everyone in Mexico who can afford them have paid servants, whether maids, gardners, or whatever. Labor is cheap, so a lot of Mexicans pay people to clean up the house or garden.) Maria Eugenia lives in a small town just down Highway 200 called Puerta de la lima. Right near her house, a woman gave birth to another baby two days ago. Bob and Vicky give $40 care packages to new mothers, which include things like cradles, bottles, diapers, and other things that people in the very, very poor village of Puerta de la lima couldn't afford or wouldn't spend money on. Maria Eugenia's husband makes 120 pesos a day -- that's $12 -- and that's considered adequate to live in this village with dirt roads and one-room brick cottages with corrugated tin roofs.
On Thursday, we went to the island in the middle of Jaltemba Bay, called la isla de Maria. The island is made of coral, so there was a lot of neat coral stuff to be had. Vicky told us that there was a restaurant on the island, which is sort of true. There used to be a full-service restaurant on the top of the island, but it has since closed. The kitchen and tables and chairs remain up there, like a sort of ghost restaurant. The only "restaurant" on the island is a small palapa that serves ceviche. You encounter a lot of palapas on the beach. "Palapa" is the Spanish word for a thatched-roof cottage (though, thankfully, none of the ones in Guayabitos had been burninated), and many of these beachside restaurants are constructed in the fashion of an open-air thatched-roof style. "Ceviche" is a sort of salsa made with onions, tomatoes, cilantro, peppers, and your choice of either shrimp or fish. It's put on a tostada, a small, flat corn tortilla that has been fried until it's hard, kind of like a big, round tortilla chip.
One of the great things about Mexico is the salsa. American salsa is tomato-based, with an actual-factual tomato paste base along with big pieces of seasoned tomato. Some other vegetables are added, but it's largely a tomato production. This results in a very watery salsa that's heavy on tomatoes. Mexican salsa, by contrast, contains no liquid. It's made entirely of diced vegetables, and equal weight is given to all vegetables; tomatoes aren't the star. Mexican salsa cotnains onions, tomatoes, peppers, as well as cilantro, cucumbers, and avocadoes.
For dinner on Thursday, we ate at J&M's Place, where, as I said, we met the other American restaurant owners we saw during the week. The German woman -- whose restaurant I highly, highly recommend, as it's delicious -- is named Beatra. She told us all about Mexico, and how it is to run a business down there. Apparently, many Americans get a Mexican business partner to help them, since until recently it was fairly difficult for foreigners to own businesses. The problem with this was that, once the business was profitable, the Mexican owner could fire the American partner and take the whole business for himself. Beatra said that she took the time to start a business the "right" way -- which was to file a lot of paperwork, but in the end, she is the full owner of the business.
Friday, we spent our last day in Mexico -- well, our last non-airport-day -- by the beach. That evening, we went to Vista Guayabitos, the swankiest restaurant in town. (Keep in mind that the swankiest restaurant in town costs you $30 for a dinner for two.) Elizabeth ordered some shrimp dish, and I saw red snapper on the menu and thought, "Ooh! That looks good!" When they brought out the food, they didn't bring me just a filet of red snapper -- they brought me the whole damn fish! There it was, a red snapper -- the whole red snapper -- seasoned, grilled, and tossed onto a plate, fins, skin, and all, staring at me with eyes that had been reduced to jelly by the grill. I stared at it for a second, wondering what I should do, and then I decided to eat it. And it was pretty good, but it was also pretty unnerving, watching your food as it watches you.
The next morning, Bob gave me about two pounds of Mexican coffee beans that he got from the people up in the mountains who actually grow the coffee. In San Francisco's climate, he said, the beans would stay fresh for up to ten years. The problem with commercial coffee is that it is already bad when you buy it. Once you roast the coffee beans, they're fresh for days. Once you grind the beans, they're fresh for minutes! Thus, the true coffee fanatic will purchase raw beans, roast them a day before grinding them, and then grind them just before making coffee. If any of you are interested in getting your own beans when you go to Mexico, you can take up to fifty pounds of beans with you without an import license.
And so ended our week in Mexico. And what of Mexico? The wealthy are pretty wealthy, the poor are truely impoverished. In some places, like Puerta de la lima, it's true poverty -- these people don't make nearly enough money to survive, and chances are slim that they will get out of there. In Guayabitos, there's a lot of garbage in the streets and the roads aren't very good, but that's a problem of government services. Mexico has no long tradition of the government providing infastructure services. In the United States, we feel entitled to infastructure provided by the local and state governments, and to some extent, the federal government, as well. There is no entitlement in Mexico. Except for Tepic, which is the capital city of the state, the other cities are pretty much on their own. Individual cities -- and even individual neighborhoods -- are left to fend for themselves. Bob is a member of a homeowners association in Guayabitos that gets work done for themselves because no one else will do it. They purchased a bulldozer and had volunteers clean garbage off the streets. They took some of their own money and built a bridge over the large creek separating Guayabitos and La peñita de Jaltemba, the next closest town. Prior to the building of the bridge, people had to use the highway to get to La Peñita, and it resulted in fifty deaths in five years. So, the homeowners association had to take up the charge themselves to do something about it. The Mexican government is getting better; it's providing more services, and the major highways between cities are in excellent condition.
The way Vicky describes Mexico in the past, it sounds like the Soviet Union. You had to know someone in the government if you wanted something done; taking official channels was inefficient and usually led to dead ends. As one Mexican travel book notes, money "can open up a lot of doors that were previously closed." In the past, public officials demanded morditas (literally, "little bites") if you wanted them to do anything. Sometimes, customs and immigration officials would demand a bribe if you wanted to enter the country. It's gotten better in the last several years, partly because Vincente Fox wanted to be a friend to the United States, and one of the good things that came of that was an attempt to crack down on corruption. Still, though, everyone agrees that Mexico is, socially and technologically, where the United States was fifty years ago, but it's getting better. And if you have the chance, you should visit to see for yourself.