This is the Life

That’s Chris playing soccer with some kids at the local primary school. On Friday, we went and spoke to the kids about where we are from. Chris spoke about being a vet tech and I spoke a little about Santa Cruz and showed them pictures. There is another couple staying here at the house. Shai showed the kids a computer program he designed to teach people Aikido. Shuli talked to them about her work on Sesame Street (or Calle Sesamo as it’s known here).

Saturday night we all went to a restaurant up by the local spa and feasted on paella, fresh bread and REAL coffee. (All you get in most restaurants here is instant coffee, my only complaint about Chacala.) On the way to the restaurant, we noticed some people had piled beach rocks to make sculptures (like they do in SF and Santa Cruz). Of course, on the way back I stumbled on what was probably one of those sculptures and twisted my ankle. Luckily, Chris caught me before any major damage had been done. What a klutz.

Yesterday, we took a boat ride along the coast. It was gray and windy and the waves were bigger than they have been, which made for a couple slight stomach-droppers. Along the coast there is a ton of construction. A bunch of rich people from the U.S., Canada and Guadalajara are building vacation homes here (now that there is a real road). I’m told they just stay in their gated community and don’t want much to do with the locals. They just use up the rapidly decreasing water supply watering the lawns and filling the swimming pools in their mostly empty houses. What a waste.

Aside from that, we have just been hanging out by the pool, reading and relaxing. Tomorrow, we leave Chacala and head over to Guadalajara. I’ll post a new entry as soon as I can.

Not to make you green with envy, but

This is the view from the balcony outside our room in Chacala. From here, I get to watch the fisherpeople catch my dinner or the pelicans dive-bomb the ocean for their next meal. Some of the pelicans just sit on the fishing boats and hang out, providing fishing tips perhaps?

Our flight to Houston was uneventful. On our flight from Houston to Puerto Vallarta we were stuck behind a father and his two brats. I don’t know what was worse, the kids whining or the father hacking up a lung without covering his mouth. GROSS. We finally got off the germ capsule in Puerto Vallarta and made our way through all the drivers and hotel reps hustling for business. We found a taxi stand and worked out a price to go to Chacala (about 90 minutes north of Puerto Vallarta). Chris fell asleep almost immediately upon entering the cab. I was fully awake for every minute as we wound our way up a curvy two-lane highway through the mountains. Although there are no guard rails, people are kind enough to put up a memorial cross and some flowers every few kilometers. At least our cab driver waited until the less curvy parts before he sped past cars on our side and toward trucks coming directly at us on the other. (Take that, Nascar.)

We finally arrived in Chacala, exhausted. The sand and rocks called streets were throwing us all around the cab. It took us a while to find someone who could tell us where the house was. (I had copied a map from the web, but there are no street names here so it gets kind of confusing.) We finally found someone who directed us. They left the key in the door for us and the room unlocked. We had the whole house to ourselves. After checking things out, we locked the room and went down to the infinity pool overlooking the ocean.

After our dip, we went back to the room. We tried the key. The key did not work. We tried the key a million times, still nothing. There was no one around and we couldn’t even remember the first name of the woman who left the key for us. So there we were in our bathing suits walking the streets of Chacala looking for anybody - no money, no credit cards, no clothes, no shirt (Chris, not me). We came across some guys sitting outside a house and asked them if they knew a woman with the last name of lawler (or something like that) who worked at the Casa de Tortugas. Amazingly, they knew who I was talking about and tried to direct me to her house. Giving directions is very difficult when there are no street names, so he had us jump in the back of his friends pickup and they drove us over there. He called out in front of the house. (People don’t knock here, they just call out the name of who they are looking for and someone comes out.) A woman in the house told him that the lady we wanted was at her other job, in the next town. The guy (Chaco) was going to drive us out there, but when I explained to him that what we needed was a key, he took me two doors down to Lupe’s house. Lupe also works for the house and gave us (complete strangers) the key for the main floor. There we were able to get access to all the house keys. Gotta love a small town.

For the last two days I have been waking up to the sound of ocean waves and birds chirping. I’ve been eating seafood caught that morning and cooked up right on the beach and washing it down with an ice-cold beer. My greatest daily challenge has been the slightly uphill walk back to our house after going down to the restaurants to eat. I could get very used to this.

The Drive to Tulsa

Like the pic? That's Chris wearing some plant at a greenhouse in Tulsa.

Let me catch you all up on what’s been happening for the last couple weeks.

The plan was to rent a van, throw the boxes and cats in it, and (after a quick pit-stop to visit Miss in L.A.) drive like hell for three days until we got to Tulsa. We thought it would be a good idea to avoid traffic and do our driving at night.

Of course, everything takes about 10 times longer than you think it is going to take, even if you take that fact into consideration (Jan’s rule). Chris and I had almost no sleep the last couple days before we left and were completely delirious. We wanted to leave at 2:00 a.m., but did not end up leaving until after 5:00 a.m. By that time, there was already traffic. We took the 152 across the mountains. I’ll let Chris tell you about the endless fun we had on that little ride. I will recommend that, if you bring two cats on a winding mountain road where there is nowhere to stop and where agro pickups are on your butt, bring plenty of wet wipes.

We were supposed to meet Miss and Miguel for breakfast that morning, but there was no way we were going to make L.A. by then, so we checked into a motel in nowheresville (off of highway 5) and got some rest. Things went much better after that. We got to L.A. for dinner (even missed L.A. traffic) and then got back out on the road. We made it to Needles that night, Albuquerque the next night and Tulsa the night after that.

Not much time for sightseeing when you are driving with cats, not that there is much to see on the 40 anyway. I did; however, finally figure out when U.S. culture really pays off. When you are on a long driving trip, with no time to make any stops, the fact that everything is totally monotonous, predictable and right off the highway turns out to be pretty appealing. When Chris and I spotted certain types of shopping centers and then, just as predicted, there was a Starbucks right where it should be - we were so happy. I know there are some of you who gasped as you read that, but when you’ve been drinking gas station coffee for a day or two, a Starbucks latte is like a miracle from god (if you believe in that sort of thing).

Here is the other thing about monotonous and predictable chain restaurants. You know what you are going to get and you don’t actually interact with anyone. The one time Chris and I got off the Wendy’s-Applebees-Starbucks circuit, we ended up completely depressed. The stop was in a little one-street town somewhere between Albuquerque and Amarillo. I’m pretty sure it was still New Mexico. We found a “café” that looked like it might serve breakfast. Turns out it was a burger place. It was late, so we figured what the hay. After breakfasting on burgers, we overheard two locals talking. It went something like this.

“You still doing your antiquing thing?”

“No, with the economy the way it is, I had to get a real job. I still have a piece at so-and-so’s shop, but she’s going out of business. Times are tough. How’s your family?”

“My husband died a few months ago, third family member I lost in as many months.”

There was more, but by that time Chris and I were thoroughly depressed and had to leave in order to avoid a public display. You know how I hate those.

Here is the other thing that sticks in my head about the drive - Amarillo, Texas. The people there must be really nice. They must also have no sense of smell whatsoever, cause the entire town smells like shit, literally. The bathroom in Wendy’s smelled fabulous, but when I walked outside all I could smell was shit. Here is the amazing thing. The place has traffic, bad traffic. It’s just crazy - shit, traffic and chains.

I’m now in Tulsa. I know I’m in Tulsa, because (as I write this) there is Nascar on the television, flesh on the grill, and beer in the fridge. So as not to do Tulsa an injustice, I must also tell you that I managed to find a chain of organic grocery stores and a tapas restaurant. They also have something you coastal snobs don’t, an Amish community. We went to an Amish farm and got huge cinnamon roles. We also went to another Amish grocery for peaches and cheese and all kinds of other homemade loveliness. If you ever come this way, I would highly recommend a stop.

Aside from visiting and some minor driving around town, that pretty much catches you all up. We are leaving Tuesday morning for Mexico. I’ll blog when I get there.