2013: JUNE 7-27. PUERTO VALLARTA. CONDO IN ZONA ROMANTICA

PUERTO VALLARTA JUNE 7-27, 2013

JUNE 7, FRIDAY.

I start off guilty (as charged); I've overpacked. I managed to stuff (or to the point, making Bob stuff) an entire summer collection of tropical colored blouses (for such they are), t-shirts displaying all the corners of the visited world, many shades of long trousers and shorts and on and on into our two medium sized suitcases. This after having definitively announced that since I will wind up wearing only one pair of shorts and t-shirts in PV I plan to pack like a backpacking teenage Spartan. Ah but all those under-worn pretty things beckoning lasciviously in my closet  betrayed me. So I manage to jettison one lone pair of walking shoes as a sop to a husband in terrified fear

of airport baggage scales. 

At least I scheduled the Alaska Air flight at 10:20 AM (no more scary Tijuana jaunts to fly the “local” Volaris). Don at Bob's calm and security-seeking request picks us up at 8:30 and whisked through as we are (oh Mexican airlines are now so in the rear view) we have much time on our hands and no priority lounge to present our priority pass.Onboard millionaire macho types talk of their yachts in San Diego and arrange their PV fishing trip. Thus proving that those who enjoy the good life can still fly tourist class. Vindicated!

Tip. Once at destination, don't let airport taxi sales guys lure you. Go directly outside and save ten bucks without the condo tour pitch, though this hustler intuitively drags out the Gay Vallarta pamphlet for our benefit.

After remembering where things are and adjusting to our old condo, we are out for provisional provisions: vodka, cheese and crackers. We know the food groups.

The Neal Youngish singer singing in English, is actually mellow and quite good, at the El Dorado restaurant below our balcony. Here we reawaken to the gorgeous view and the sound of the surf rolling in and out. Native boys are playing volleyball on the beach. I try to take a photo of them for Gary H. (not Gar G., that's the condo owner) but there will no doubt be other opportunities. Now yoga people on the El Dorado deck below assemble ready to yogate. Will they ignore the view in favor of their internal magesties? Ha.

After our malecon walk and a walk-in at Fit Club for schedule and pricing we decide we're hungry enough (there was doubt) for La Bohemio - which I thought would be the perfect welcome repast-- how these places survive is quite mysterioso -- Idecide on the fajitas fabuloso. Starters- a light pea soup quite good to our surprise. Food cynics. (We love cafe Bohemio but have essayed its limitations.) B--chicken enchilada - ok. My flambe is all presentation -- which the wiry and very English-articulate manager serves - the idea . We spice our dishes up with the green and red sauces and they are transformed. $28 with tip. Bob's entree was under $6. I got fancy.

On our walk back we discover the pier that was under construction and in immediate view of our condo is Finished! Gorgeous. A wonder of the world. A great erection um structure. Sail shaped. With great lighting. Loads of folks enjoying it. Await the photos. Especially after we discover from our prominent balcony view of it that the thing changes colors. OMG.

PV JUNE 8, SATURDAY

Getting up to a refreshing reading from an Alexander McColl Smith novel, pithy intellectual comedic and so different from his delightful Ladies Detective series, though there's always the genial all-knowing humanist-sage author watching over his eccentric brood, intercepting their thoughts. He's my current PV companion . . . besides Bob of course.

I intrude on Bob's serenity on the balcony as he watches the water and drinks his coffee (which he, sly traveler, packs with him so he’s not destitute, desolate? dissolute? the first morning) and watch the yoga master with his pupils (8:30 am) contorting on El Dorado restaurant’s deck below. Can't quite hear his instructions but I try to follow his contortions until my inability to bend interferes and my infused tea cup calls.

The temperature is pleasant this morning and the waves crashing against the shore are soothingly rhythmic and comfortingly noisy (the contradiction works). Reading this, I am aware that I am addicted to parentheses--- as is my life, replete with the parenthetical - nuances getting in the way.

Farmers market. It's Saturday! Celebration of expats getting so along with locals. First at the entrance is Marcia. I show her my copper bracelet which she insists I bought last year not two years ago, enquires if my health is better as a result and to my dumbfounded expression asks if the bracelet was just an aesthetic consideration. The latter but I'm sure I feel bettered as a result. She's expanded into male necklaces which we know she crafts from "found" objects, another vender having just given her a bag of blouses to tear up and create from; invites us to a reception for a performance group this evening but the address is unclear.

Rye bread, a Mexican shirt for me, and after depositing our goods home we return to the market to buy tickets for the gay chorus concert on the 16^th. We meet the artistic director, Bob B, and chat about the progress of his chorus, our involvement with the San Diego choruses and Gary, the San Diego conductor.

Supermarket. The long and humid walk along the malecon to the giant local supermarket. We discovered it last year and then determined this would be the first place to store up on provisions rather than the tourist-visitor recourse Costco across town. Tip the elderly bag girl (they are a Mexican AARP employer - all bag people there are this side of lovely ancient).

Fusion is just down the block and has one of our favorite gay waiters, the tip off is that knowing attitude: "no comment" with a genial smirk when we both order Margaritas on the rocks (x2) and chile rellenos. Of course we are the only patrons; as at so many emporiums here we are at a private catered party. $21.00 but that includes a Very generous tip from Bob for Micello.

After discovering Lola's cleaning products in front of our door and Lola herself merrily cleaning, we are forced to watch the waves from our balcony and, finally relenting, seek out a pair of goggles for Reuel (who loses these devices as if they were goggles he can't keep track of) - not to be found at the "mini super" (huh?) market but at an all-purpose schlock store that finally has adult-sized, or so they claim, goggles. And now also armed with a gay guide to Vallarta, we return to the lovely cool condo.

Beach
Bob who is none too pleased that I imperil valuables when I venture to the beach for a swim on my own -- keys and such -- agrees to accompany moi to Green Chairs aka Ritmos Beach, our favorite by repetition where the familiar chords are at play, "no gracias" vendors who disappear upon the gesture or that phrase like magic sprites; there are the few deservedly exhibitionist men among the plethora of "real" middle aged -- hey we're higher (lower?) on the scale these days -- men on holiday. "I'm new in town. Buy my drawings. A dollar or two." Hard eyes. Been around the proverbial. We're new in town too. Give us a break.

High tide is evidenced by Mexico teens readying surfboards but R essays two swims in the roiling Sea.

Home
God I love a martini. We shower and are presentable for nighttime activities but when I emerge with one of my fabulous 2-sided Embroidered Asian robes (cross tranny in training? Nope. Noel-Cowardesque is the preferred meme) it's clear we won't be venturing out. I apologetic, suggest Garbo's for cocktails and sympathetic Bob says we've plenty of time for that. Hence martinis on the balcony overlooking the Bay of Bandaras, plus h'ors deuvres and . . .  we are gigantically pleased.
Wine now. We take bets on when sunset will occur. A lot later than google says it will. But final analysis: it's gorgeous out there and "anticipation" is the song.

PV JUNE 9, SUNDAY.

Rising at 8:20, a lazy Sunday morning. Thinking of making lists of items to remember to take on trips for 2 reasons. 1. Forgot things this time, such as my razor, my favorite swim trunks (the camouflage), and (B) the exercise bands. 2. To prevent overpacking (need to limit number of things, e.g., to 3 shirts, 2 trousers, 2 shorts, etc.). Of course need several lists to suit different kinds and lengths of trips, e.g., tropical cruise 2 weeks, transatlantic cruise 28 days or 14 days, tropical vacation 3 weeks (like this one), the tours usually 2 weeks, and then the stays in cities like London, NYC or San Francisco 7-10 days. Oh reason three. I've obviously plenty of time on my hands. Actually might make part of a helpful book. Include food buying for self-catering apartments. The Unforgetful Traveler -- with anecdotes.

I look up trip advisor reviews of Vista Grill full of superlatives which confirm our experiences there. Will make reservations for our anniversary dinner on the 17th.

Speaking of technology, which the good outweighs the bad, having fun with my i-translator on the terrace as we sip our hot drinks and breakfast, Bob rye (purchased at the farmers market) toast ("not a brilliant bread") and coffee and Reuel his infused tea and dry cereal with raisins and banana. Notice there's cold purified water in the refrigerator. Cue song: Whatever we want, Lola (the maid) will get.

Watching Reliable Sources (no more MSNBC on Gary Gist's now cabled non-satellite TV) Howard Kurtz talking to Glen Greenwald. I say a bunch of Jews talking to Jews. Bob involved in his i-phone says "You don't like Jews any more?" I reply that I love Jews. "I think they're very exotic." Hmm. Identity crisis saga continues.

Our walk to the cuale (one of the 10 Spanish words I know - the river) is pleasant today because the humidity is 58%. Vendor: "It's almost free".

Though I make reservations for 12:30, the River Cafe has plenty of open tables and we have an absolutely charming table by the river. Last year it was Fathers Day which apparently is why it was crowded. Well they've got my email reservation anyway.
Children throwing bread crumbs over the balastrade at the iguanas who look up gratefully (more likely expectantly) for more.
I look for a great iguana photo op to taunt Rooco who claims he's seen enough iguanas in Florida where he grew up but the creatures are hard to photograph sans editing.
What's with the tiny dessert selection (these memoirs when we've been to repeated destinations are usually carping and full of regret but -- philosophical moment -- isn't that what memory is -- well for me, Jew - at least. Take the moment. It's great. Glad to be alive.)

My second set of 2 x 1 Margueritas kicking in. I sort of apologize to Bob for spending so much of our together time writing in and focusing on my appendage i-person. But then I turn back to it/him/her reflexively.

Back home at 2. Bob throws a throw on me -- our bedroom is cool/cold. Deserve a nap. . . . And have that nap. OMG it's: 3:40. Oops. I sleep another hour and a quarter. It's 5: o'clock. (I guess 4 seemingly innocuous Margueritas are not so . . . Seemingly.) Does that napping prolong my life or interrupt it? At least today's diary will be shorter.

Bob, now an i-Phone maven, announces that forecasts indicate almost no rain for the next 10 days. I say today? Only 30% chance. Then we shall see the Tony's I opine since last year evening thunderstorms knocked out the satellite reception.

Ah the beach wandering drummer group we've seen, with the Mynaad gyrating girl I assume, drums on the beach below our balcony. It's warm but not unpleasant here. Bob thinks they’re a different group. True the sound is more sophisticated. The beaches on either side look crowded as the muted sounds of kids funnel up. Just as well, I rationalize, that comatose I didn't make it down there.

Time to acknowledge what a deal this is. We've practically got the building to ourselves. Just the owner gay opera lover guy who seems to always be here. And why not? Not the $10,000 a year without carrying any mortgage our PS condo costs us (though we have a winter rental there that defrays). Here it's $750 for 3 weeks.

Not last years egregiously friendly Jorge (hugs and kisses for his dear friends from San Diego) but a little hunchback gnome is there at Pizza Nostra to sell us our $8.90 large pizza with everything. We rushed out early thinking we'd miss the Tony's red carpet but come back to 60 Minutes instead -- well finally watching Rocco's favorite show.
Then the Tony's. Neil Patrick Harris' opening number terrific. Glad kinky Boots Billy Porter wins Best Actor in a musical. Sorry Billy Magnussen (Sonya etc.) lost featured actor in a play. He was a stitch. Zzzz.

PV JUNE 10 MONDAY

So I tell Bob we're moving to Puerto Vallarta. Hugo my new Zumba instructor at the Fit Club is terrific and v e r y easy on the eyes. Cute! Shouts out his commands in Spanish (I hadn't figured on that duh) but it doesn't matter. I will follow him wherever. And besides, I get the added bonus of learning how to give commands in Spanish. Strenuous workout. Perfecto. Then I join Bob, who has been on the treadmill, to do some of the strength machines. Today upper body. Triceps curls and crunches. Very modern gym, equipment, classroom, lockers. Showers, too, though we'll not use those. Not cheap. So what.

Muscles very . . . Tired. Hugo will make a man of me. Ahem. Finally able to get up and shower, ah the warm water on tired bones, before heading to Daiquiri Dick's -- lovely boîte by the sea that just has the wrong name. The Rolly Pollies are on duty "dressed like hospital attendants" says Bob.

Oscar

Good bread and great dipping sauce with the chips. Nice big stoli for me and guess what x 2 for Bob. A vendor shouts "miss" waving his goods I think at me. Well I never. A musician with guitar and pan pipe plays a melancholy Unchained Melody but exits (I think management intervened) before we have a chance to slip him a 10 peso coin. Love my Asian chicken salad, tasty dressing, and Bob's chicken Caesar salad which led us here in the first place is "flavorful" and met his high hopes for it. Again my stoli is $6.68. The total is $34.68. "Because of new tax laws" a note tells us to leave our tips in cash. "Sir Robert" complies.

A 45 minute nap is in order in the rather over-cool bedroom but at $250 a week I'm not about to create a furor with our landlord. After emailing Don to enquire about some possibly late rents I am exhausted by my efforts and we decide it is necessary to repair to the late afternoon comfort of Green Chairs aka Ritmos Beach. Front row seats on the bay are always available weekdays at this time. The waves are challenging so after ten minutes challenging them back I succumb to the awaiting frozen Margueritas that Bob has already started on beachside. Tasty. A colorfully attired lifeguard passes by. Defying at least the American training manual, he strolls along dejectedly, ignoring the few bouncing gay men in the bay.

After a sufficient read, the second swim is more pleasant - the waves having given up a little, though my bathing suit needs pulling up off naked buttocks (TMI?) as I enter the surf – clearly I’ll require a whole new array of colorful and tight-fitting suits from PV.
The venders all in white, the little ladies in their pleated skirts, accept our “no gracias” with equanimity - except for Felix whose good English allows him to compliment my copper bracelet. He it seems has a copper ring that would match perfectly and "I made it myself". I strive to be firm but polite.

Home we hear about surveillance leaks. I don't think my emails threaten national security much less mine though I write one to San Diego Gary as we sip martinis and much cheese and crackers on the balcony. Later leftover pizza slices before a sunset (8:42pm) toast. Lovely day.

PV JUNE 11 TUESDAY

We buy a week pass at Fit Club which means we need to be there all 7 days for the daily rate to make sense. Note: next year buy the 30 day pass. This way we each get 15 days and they needn't be consecutive. Bob says I'm obsessed with this computation. [It turns out we don't miss a day in our stay.]

The indefatigable Hugo leads us through a step class, we as step virgins trying to keep up. Great workout. Then desultory treadmill, elliptical and some weight equipment.
We stop at Mikey's for some gourmet provisions only to be told by Lupita at reception that tomorrow there will be neither power nor water from 9-5. Bob assures me our provisions should stay cold during that time. Hmm.

At the El Dorado downstairs right on the beach, our waiter is charmless but no matter. Nice sized stolis and chards (X2) . Excellent guacamole appetizer with the onion, lime and tomato additions. My steak rare tuna is wonderful, Bob's club "fresh, newly cooked - good". Fresh cooked food is the reward for being among the only customers. The French fries for example, very fresh, very potato-ey, which is how I like 'em.
I ask for the El Dorado owner's discount. "Si". $40.81 total with the 10% discount. With tip $46.60. 

I buy 3 racy bathing suits - incentive to diet -- $60 (one was $14!) at the local suitary "where I always buy my suits." We next scout out the nearby Blue Massage parlor which gets excellent ratings. A definite for later.

After I nap and find Bob sitting, contemplating, he explains that he's involved in "heavy lassitude". That kind of sums up the enterprise we're presently in.

Lassitude aside, it's 4:30 or so when the waves are unthreatening, and I need to swim so, with Bob unwilling to do the beach number at this hour, I head downstairs to the beach exit and stow the key in a plant and my towel and sandals on an El Dorado ringside table. I swim past Blue Chairs beach, join the bobbing gay men and swim back. Strange, people say they "swim" in the ocean. No I'm the only one. They bob weave and avoid the cascades of waves. As I swim I pass the young couple who have been fairly copulating for hours - I contemplate shouting "Get a room" ("encuentra un dormitorio" says my itranslator later on in leisure) but it would break my rhythm and besides brand me as the curmudgeon I most surely am. Mission completed without incident and managed to avoid being decapitated by a jet ski.

After clean up and in cocktail Asian dragon robe, there are martinis (prepared by me) on the balcony and pâté (Prepared by Bob)) from Mikey's. Almost perfect.

Pour Large Chardonnays and thusly enabled to come in to watch CNN's latest on the Turkey crisis (will our turkey-heavy cruise in November need to avoid the hot spots?- selfish old guy). I heard one of the protesters shouting "Fuck America". The news doesn't think that's the point. Hmm.

Fabulous chicken , lasagna and cole slaw- even though neither of us is particularly hungry. Accompanied by a nice sauvignon chard. We celebrate the sunset. And then there is a gourmet brownie.

What to make of the Turkish protests?

PV JUNE 12, WED

In anticipation of the warning that electricity and water will be shut off 9-5 today in our condo for neighborhood repairs, R takes a change of clothes and shower things to the gym, hot (air conditioning problem?) and heavy Zumba workout with Hugo (not Hiram which was just me getting lovely Hugo's name wrong. Who's Hiram?). Hugo has nasty habit of sweating profusely, as do I but that's another matter, and then his wet tshirt sticks to his body and . . . Bob is still on his treadmill when the class is over. We do some weights, then I shower and change there. However here we sit at home at 11:45 and both electric and water are still on. Is this Mexican time? Will we need to wait every day for the utilities to suddenly die? (Sam at reception says no- they're doing it by "schedule").

When the mood calls, we hie ourselves up the street to Coco's, where Bob last year had a memorable lunch all to himself the day the nieces and I went sailing. Both of us have Coco's especiale, soup (B ministrone, R cream of zucchini - Bob's slightly better) salad, breast of chicken sandwich. Good but I've got to learn to eschew bread/carbs.

Sound of Americans talking business. One guy in particular, looking for real estate apparently, talks at his agent.

At the beach the "how many how many" lady of years past is now selling massages and pedicures rather than tchochkes. But after Coco's we arrange for massages at the highly reviewed (trip advisor) Blue Spa on Olas Alto for tomorrow.

Drat. I've forgotten my goggles in the trade of gym things for swim things, so much paraphernalia burdens the traveler, so i float, swim with closed eyes, any attempt to avoid the stinging salt water in my eyes. And it's so beautiful a day and such lovely warm green water and so much that is lovely to see from that lovely water. Two frolicking boys making surfboard forts and throwing sand bombs at one another, one clearly Mexican the other a taller blonde but speaking Mexican unexpectedly. Boys making war. Playfully aggressive. The little one clearly outclassed but good at hiding behind his upright surfboard.

I am tearful not only because of the sentimental passage in my Nook reader that I just read but because I'm feeling fortunate. The front row seat on the infinite ocean helps, less meritoriously the passage of poor vendors hoping to sell their wares helps too in buttressing this feeling of good fortune I suppose. Bob shielded from the sun is napping next to me. And His being there helps too.

Yes it's possible to swim without goggles but surely it's not what god intended.

We pay for our margaritas and quit our beach at 4. I notice a younger man barking at the feet of an older man and then biting his leg. I ask Bob if he would bite my leg sometime. He would. It would mean he'd live on twice as much money. I ask, logically I think, if he has feral teeth. Then approaching our building through the alley off the beach we hear the boozy voice of the woman who inhabits "the cave" and always at her computer (I fancy she’s a novelist) in the dark condo off the beach who informs us that the utilities are still off; she opines that since they are government workers they will leave at precisely 5, hopes they'll remember to turn it on. Ah as I write this at 4:42 there's the whir of renewed electricity and air. Of course they'd take off early.

The showers here are so lovely - that pervasive and apt word -- accessible. We opt not to go to Garbo's but to have our martinis here. After that particular consumption including a "charcuterie plate" we have our Chardonnays on the balcony. There's a singer guitarist, quite pleasant, at the El Dorado below so that's a perk we can enjoy as we sit here and watch the sea, specs of crushed diamonds into the endless distance -- seriously - well almost. Our guitar/singer troubadour is really good. Sounds like Julio Eglasias or pere just as good and for free. Hey we also got a discount for living here when we had lunch at the El Dorado restaurant below. We applaud the mellow musician's set. Not sure the actual diners, 2 men -- who knows their story-  engaged below do. Yoga people on the deck below staring in lotus position at the sea but we have the advantage of not only that sea but our drinks.

PV JUNE 13 THURSDAY

I don't know, step class seemed even more strenuous today. Bob thought it was easier. Perhaps because step seems to be his proper métier. He's masterly at it. I do the leg machines; Bob various. I note that Hugo, pressing weights, lifts "thousands of pounds". Of course.

Back at our cool home to e-complain to newish tenants whose dog cries and barks all day; this in response to another tenant's complaint. Don also reports that the dog relieves itself on their huge deck, urinating on the workmen's equipment below. We ask them what they plan to do. Of such incidents are a landlord's life made whole.

Bob earlier warned me that I'd be stiff after this morning's workout. He's right. I rise from the couch with difficulty; a warm shower with cool off (no cold water this time of year) helps as does a refreshing cucumber and mint martini (tastes a little like a Margarita but prettier) at La Palapa, the classy place on the beach next door. We've read my notes from years past about La Palapa so Bob again orders chicken quesadilla and Reuel the seafood enchiladas after our plaintain and sweet potato amuse Bouche. Great service as always.
Bob points out large pelicans rocking on a boat yards away in the bay. "I love this place (meaning PV.) I'm so glad we're here." (Nodded assent from the B.) We've just spent $69 with tip. Oh well. At least Bob takes a doggy bag.

Since we catch Lola cleaning we go out on our balcony - refreshing -- for the minutes before our massage appointment. Sylvia greets us. 60 minute massage $86 for both of us in the couples room. My masseur is Diego, strong hands, I thought too strong at first but then just right; I could feel a lot of the "cricks" succumbing. Very good. Bob thought his therapist, David, was "good" not excellent. I'll see if I can persuade him for another session next week on step-class day.

PV JUNE 14 FRIDAY

Here we are at Ritmos Beach at our front row seats, earlier so we can have lunch and a proper beach day.

At 9 it was Hugo at Zumba looking very fetching in a yellow t-shirt with matching sneakers. Yesterday Bob and I opined on the significance of his red t-shirt and matching sneaks. He seems to be ramping up the intensity each time which is ok with me.

Bob is still on the tread after class but goes into weights mode thereafter. I do some elliptical followed by abs work. Enjoy a warm shower at home afterward for stiff muscles even though we are heading to the bay.

Some correspondence with tenants such as letting the good young doctor out of the last days of his lease if he vacates early, reading tenant Neil's promise to get rid of his dog. O the wonders of email. We could spend the rest of our lives traveling and still attend to our property . . . with a little help from our friends.

Every day here is unremittingly beautiful - the bay breeze is pleasant. Bob notes that we can see the Marina curving into the bay clearer today; we drink our Modelo lights with lime - good and cheaper than Margaritas. In fact the beach day experience is a buy. ($25 total for club sandwiches and 4 of those very pleasant brewskies).

It's a joy to enter water that isn't cold - an advantage of this season in Mexico. Settling in on my nook, Bob on his beach-read book (who is Greg Olson?) that he found in the condo and chose because the type is "large enough to read" without his glasses. As good a reason as any for literary selection.

A vendor asks if we want a massage. No. "A party? Fucky. fucky. " Bob thinks he said pokey pokey. Either way he is offering a party that we have no plans to attend. He comes by later. Same pitch. (Turns out it was the former of the two expressions.) It's sex beach today says Bob after another one comes along. "Fucky fucky. Happy ending? Endings. Beginnings?" God in his infinite variety.

I decide my newest project is to take photos of the vendors who pass by on the beach. (Not the lascivious masseurs - they are their own breed, maybe a later series.) Rather than always annoying, I find them fascinating, their faces sometimes resignation, or defeat, but usually equanimity in the face of the obvious stone wall facing them. And I think the photos will reveal that they circle and keep coming back with their tchachkas as if we really will change our minds.

And at this moment another man in white offers "a tour today gentlemen” and passes by without waiting for an answer though surely he knows I'll not chase him down the beach to insist on his tour.

I recite a line to Bob from the McCall Smith novel, "He looked at his wife with all the fondness that comes of 40 years of marriage." A moment. And then for another delightful swim, this time more bobbing men, I the only swimmer it would seem.

I try music library on my iPhone -- it's Beethoven's Opus something string quartet. Sublime. The sound of the crashIng waves not entirely drowned out for which I’m thankful. Bob's Viagra and coke supplier comes by (though Bob has yet to avail himself) looking louche with cigarette dangling - good typecasting. "Can I offer you anything today amigos?"

Time to leave and we're off along the fairly short stretch of beach through the sand alley to the back of our building; the writer lady's cat perched on her desk in her stead stares us down, our welcome. Another shower, so easy to take here, and the beach and the bay is washed away, allowing us to watch CNN in cool comfort as the drummers drum away in the distance.

Much mishigas with tenants and resulting e-communications with those troublesome creatures. To wit, dog days: the offending tenants of the crying/howling dog offer to take it to a dog training course rather than abandon it to a shelter. We have to acknowledge this, then inform the complaining tenant of the update, then the tenant above them whose dog Greta they accused of peeing on their porch. Oy.

It's time to go to Herman's bar, Garbo's. He remembers us sort of and we catch him up on who we are. One of his regulars precedes us, a rich guy from Virginia with a condo here working on his iPad. I notice his diamond ring. Then a group of friends who Bob notes drink even more than our 2 martinis each. One of the women shows her new acquisition , her purse (she’s a collector), to her fascinated male designer friend. I think the thing’s lovely. He doesn't guess its provenance. They are interesting people with pasts and good spirits. Another martini at home. Good night.


PV JUNE 15 SATURDAY

"Beautiful, I mean with the breeze," says Bob as we sit in our ringside table at Daiquiri Dicks, a lunchtime default option presided over by the roly polies. Chard and stoli - next time we'll do a bottle of chard for $25. Reuel feeling adventurous tries the mahi mahi wrap (excellent - a little spicy too) and Bob feeling brunchy, the eggs Benedict (which he likes). R’s pick also constrained by fact he made eggs for breakfast, rather an egg with trimmings, and a hamburgesa which actually tasted like sausage, which is fine. Bob, always more abstemious in the morning, had toast with peanut butter. Yum.

Bob asks if my mahi mahi is tuna. I say that since he said I always go too far with everything (meant in the nicest possible way of course) I have mahi plus mahi. Then there is talk of mahi cubed and since I’d forgotten most math nomenclature I note that it's a good thing our enforced learning obligations are behind us. The theme of the nature of aging and retirement looms over "everything".

Earlier we had gone to the gym a little later in the morning because Hugo the slavemaster (hmm) is not in residence on weekends, requiring machine aerobics and some weights (leg day for Reuel) and for Bob, "the things I didn't do yesterday." Then he, pressed, enumerates. Visits to the Saturday farmers markets - Marcia still trying to sell me her feminine necklaces for men -- and to Mikey's, yielding a poached salmon, 4 ribs, carrots, Greek and chef salads, and a loaf of bread. Spending about $35 our larder is full, overflowing actually. When will we eat these items? And I've now even got a doggy bag of 1/2 of that excellent mahi plus mahi sandwich. $43 including 20% tip. The roly poly looks at the tip and says—expert delivery--"Come again." That's the idea.

Much machination working online to make a reservation for the Vallarta food tour so I call at $1 a minute instead.
Paul, anglo sounding, think he's the owner, tells me his wife is Wendy. I don't care but say “Excellent”.

To swim or not to swim. Look out over the balcony to see that the surf is boisterous and the beaches and water well-populated. Bob suggests a walk to the river, 4:30 too early for cocktails but just right at 5:30 when we arrive back. In the meantime a vendor we pass shouts "Hey big spenders". Every year same guy, same taunt. Then back over the bridge as we approach the condo, another hopeful, "For your wife” (brandishing his bracelets). “No wife? For your boyfriend?" I remember that guy too. He could use some new material.

We love Mikey's deli. Bob puts together their lasagna, carrot and slaw salads. Yum. With a Chilean "Casillero del Diablo" white wine.

PV JUNE 16 SUNDAY

It being Sunday, we can take our leisure and watch Candy Crowley, Reliable Sources and Fareed Zacharia just like it's home and we're stuck on CNN. We think the gym opens at 10 on Sundays (actually it's 9 but no matter.)

Plenty of space to work out today and we do the cycle/treadmill and the weight machines. Again that virtuous feeling. Purchase some liquids at the local. I estimate a glass of vodka - 6 drinks to the bottle- costs us about $2.25. Not bad at all. Wine here is actually costlier, some of which we are having at home with our doggy bags, me the tuna tatare sandwich (could use warming) from Daquiri Dick's and Bob his chicken quesadilla from La Palapa ("good cold").

Not much time for the beach but we do it, also not crowded on this Sunday Fathers Day and therefore another front row spot, pleasant and slightly overcast, 2 blended (= frozen) Margaritas please. Perfect because they stay cold enough for me to grab two brief swims and snap a shirtless Hispanic lad for Gary. But time to get ready for the concert.

We’ve a good 20 minute walk to the theatre but at 4:30 arrival we are very early, talk with plump George who has a condo in the ritzy pitzy river condos (name?) who says he loves the everybody-knows-everybody feeling in PV; lives most of the year in corn country Illinois (probably owns it); seems to know all the gentlemen entering.

Sweet little theatre. George says the Christmas concert in the 900 seat theatre was sold out. The theatre is cooler this year - is there an extra fan? - but could use air conditioning for which the owners have a cookie jar in the foyer - also soliciting for a front door and a basement readied as a rehearsal space. Not a full house, its 1/2 full. There are probably 50 of us audience to 29 singers.

This year they've got a band--last year just a keyboard. We sit in the first row but on the side. I forgot about the translator screen which now requires us to turn our heads and therefore signal to the rest of the audience that we are monolingual duds.

Chorus "team leaders" (avoiding a "board" – that poison word) say they just marched as a group in the PV pride parade. Bilingual organization.

Very touching the individuals with tributes to their fathers and the song Dance With My Father Again. "Stout Hearted Men" not so much. Age skews somewhere between 60 and death. Only one or 2 younger semi hotties. I take a photo of the one of two hot Hispanics for Gary.

Finally, as I email to Gary, this experience on the eve of our anniversary is a 9 in spirit, a 2 1/2 in musicianship, perhaps uncharitable, but there was very little harmony, no clean entrances . . . but I love the spirit truly. At intermission the archival photographer takes our picture.

Home - not Garbo's tonight even if Reuel is wearing long pants. Trying to defrost the vodka for a martini is about as big a problem as we have here in paradise where the sunset is hohum beautiful (requiring me to capture a 60th sunset image on my iPhone).

A nice supper of the remainder of the lasagna, a chocolate Popsicle (about which I have been annoyingly obsessed since arrival) imported from the Ozzo store around the corner - (there seems to be one on every corner here in downtown oldtown.) and soon to bed.

PV JUNE 17 - MONDAY ANNIVERSARY

Maybe wearing my long Ecuadoran trouserines at Zumba isn't a great idea especially since noble Hugo is turning up the action. The guy can dance. And this body sweats all over keeping up. When he arrives today he breaks into a prolonged statement in Spanish. The woman who speaks flawless English detects that I am clueless and translates. (I feel like a nikompoop. Note: learn Spanish before you die.) He will be away this Friday and Monday and may not find a substitute. Oh dear. 2 of my precious PV Zumba days lost and Hugoless. I think I might try the morning park classes in his absence. TBD.

Ah there are advantages to being away. We find an episode of Little Britain (no longer available in the US) on the TV. Much pre-prandial merriment ensues.

Coco's for lunch. We order a bottle of chard. Ten minutes later a young man accompanied by an older man, there for moral support I suppose, comes over to ask what we'd like to drink. Then the original server comes over to say the chard is not available. We order a Sauvignon Blanc. Ten minutes later he brings over 2 bottles to choose from to say the Sauvignon Blanc is not available. We choose a Chenin Blanc.

We note sitting here it’s not hot out. Bob. "It's a perfect day for an anniversary. Reuel. "Yes. Overcast." Just kiddin' around.

Occasionally we hear a great thumping on the roof and realize it's falling mangoes. Perfect. Boom. (Bob first thinks the bottle has exploded.) Boom. Must be mango-falling season. Then we hear them rolling off. (A pitched roof.) rumble rumble.

My enchiladas verses is quite good. Bob's quiche is not exceptional.

At the beach, since it’s our anniversary we have a Margarita even though we know the evening must be a booze-full celebration. The refreshing thing is waiting for me when I've finished my first swim. The water is wonderful. I find some nice Latino examples to photograph for 2 collections, shirtless Mexicans and beach vendors.

  

Next swim after a sufficient reading of the Inspector Brunetti tale is fabuloso. From the waves I sight Bob under our umbrella in his floppy hat well protected from the insidious (though some are known to love it) sun.

I'm dressed all in white with sandals (very Oneg Shabbat Tropicale), Bob in his lovely black and silver shirt, chinos and black tasseled loafers ("smart casual").

The saxaphonist - excellent - with synthesizer background. Martinis.
Ok we talk about our wedding ceremony, how I'd prepared my vows; Bob saying he didn't know I was doing it and was embarrassed and I saying of course I told him. We vow that we were both innocent and had talked it out. Then I try to say all the nice things I love about Bob and he doesn't hear me so I add that he's deaf. Well then we laugh that things have gotten out of hand. We toast to many more anniversaries.
Table of 4 ladies next to us (only 4 tables of patrons) are having a good time. Avoid hen parties.
Lovely breeze.

Food. Appetizers. Bob Caesar salad and a chicken roulade. Reuel. Shrimp taquitos and, for an entre, salmon.

PV TUESDAY JUNE 18

That wonderful bread from Mikey's in the morning as we both relate our dreams of the night before. In Bob's we've outbid a woman for a seaside resort and already regret it but she makes us an offer to buy it. Of my family hovering around and Andrea is pregnant. In mine, on our anniversary Bob and I are mean to one another. I say we need to part ways. He says if you’re leaving me, Fine. Power play lining up politically correct women. Gets more arcane. His dream is rather more hopeful.

We decide as we get ready for gym that it's hard work being tourists. Our disparate tasks. Me arranging trips, flights, lodging, with photography and note taking, Bob packing, paying out the local currency, washing our clothes. But hey that's what we do, our occupation.

Hugo's step workout is grueling, which is desired actually, then on to the exercise machines. We have come to recognize the regulars and of course speculate on relationships, most of them gay. But that's our other occupation: speculating which is what we do about our crazy dreams later on the beach. Our Modello lights are here. I swim back when I see them on our orange tables in front of our green beach chairs under our bright green umbrella (a Ritmos Beach upgrade this year).

The swim: rather than minnows swimming along the surface these are schools of larger fish today. The dreams: more insight - in mine I am both sympathetic to and manipulative of a renter who wishes me ill and am victorious so it’s not all negative and Bob notes all the women are those ladies whose nearby conversations intruded on our anniversary dinner last night. I tell Bob I’m not really leaving him - we both agree that would be too much trouble. The food: my shrimp fajita is excellent, especially adding the chef's hot sauce. Bob has a cheeseburger which he likes. I ask “Where are your fries?” “I ate them all. Thank you for reminding me. Now I feel like a fat pig.” "Go into the water." "Then I'd be a cold, wet fat pig." "The water is not cold." He's unpleased. I am however pleased. Not only because everything is almost perfect (it is!) but because I have a new app to put captions on my photos when I take them. Oh joy.

  

2^nd swim, 2nd beer. I spend more time bobbing in my goggles with gaggles of bobbing men but the real objective is to swim out to where it's too close to the rocks to swim further and then to the north past the gay beaches.

3rd swim - it's 3:30. It's not the waves, which are robust now, but man-made things that get in the way, like the cords fastening the balloon riders which after those rides dangle in the sea, the Pinnacle motor boats that guide them, or the zip zip cars that teenagers ride too close to shore. Nevertheless it’s almost perfect.

How wonderful to have a hot shower after this day of furious exercise - the step class was a killer - then of course some cocktails, cheese pate and Bob a chef salad with blue cheese dressing and ribs also from Mikey's deli – add wine of course. Sleepy.

PV JUNE 19 WEDNESDAY
I make great eggs and Mikey's salmon with dill sauce. Bob his toast of course. We watch Obama's Brandenburg gate speech. Funny the suited secret service men seated ostentatiously in the summer crowd.

Gym

Then that long walk to Gringo Gulch and Gaby's. Large Cadillac Margaritas to start. We're hell bent on reproducing past pleasures. But bottled water in bottles, no glasses?

This time we sit on the balcony for the breeze - Bob remembers there was a lack of that last year in the garden. Hear that sizzle (woman next to us says “this is the best burrito I've ever had” -- ah customer and satisfaction) on our fajita shrimp, beef, chicken. Hmmm. Heavenly. Ok the next round of cadillacs (gotta love it) are even stiffer.
OK. We don't want the fantasticos dessert, two years in a row passing on it. Bob opines that the waiter in 2011, a Wheeling West Virginia where Bob was Dean person – imagine the coincidence- was a great salesman. But talk about sated. 
Bob recalls that we just found this place wandering around 3 years ago. Good for us.
849 before tip. Trouble with their credit card processing annoys us.

The long walk back is rewarded by our air-conditioned condo. Jump into bed for reward nap. Ah those Cadillac Margaritas. 2 hours of napping as specified last year and similarly Reuel swims out to Green beach, bobs (without Bob ha ha) and swims back.  Oops no vodka and it's after 6. What to do?

James Gondolfini dies - CNN. Watching sunset yoga on the deck in front of us. The young guy leading it is very agile. So young for a yoga master. But he's very interactive with his acolytes unlike the craggy morning guy. (The contortions are not possible for a certain some to replicate. Ouch.) And in the background the quite good mellow guitarist singer. All this courtesy of El Dorado restaurant below and we with the front row seats, front row on the mellow audible ocean. We think those in the fancier shmancier Romantic Zone condos are missing out. This is sweet.

PV JUNE 20 THURSDAY

Not enough sleep. Turning over how to reply to our mortgage company wanting to know about those extra apartments we've been installing. Oy. No peace.

Only 4 of us at step class. How can we disappoint Hugo? He's counting on us. In the Hombres room I tell Hugo, no doubt, ungrammatically, "Mui excellente." He replies “gracias gracias”. We exit without further workout so we can shower and get to our food tour on time.

We're 35 minutes early and meet the owner wife Lindsey (charming) and the guide Alex and discover that we have a private tour! We're meeting at the first stop Mole Rosa for mole tasting. Complicated to make mole. 45 ingredients. From Aztecs. 3 kinds. Including green, pink (red beets) and chocolate.

Super foods. Healthy foods. Chocolate. Pure is amazing.
Each chile has its own personality

Mr. Conceptions tapas stand.

Delicious drink w nuts and apples   from the Tuba Man.

Los muertos. Jolla people revolted and killed Spaniards who were taking their silver and then at Los Arcos pirates killed Jaliscos. It’s also a burial ground,

Taco stand. Carne Assada most popular. Totillas steak onion beans the magic w salsas. Fresh. Delicious. Around the corner from us.
Also fresh juice stands.
Chile chocolate. Xochocolate. 73% chocolate. Cacao seeds were money. We taste the bitter bean. Food of the gods.

Joes Fish Shack for hamburgers and ginger mohotos. Best.

Next stand for birria. Robles family. Slowly cooked. Secret ingredients.
In homes a chile pot is in the center of the table.
(Tequila can only be made in Jalisco) can order taco dorado which is what we have. Juicy, crisp. Go to lady in red. Say two. Get number.

Next we try cerviche at Mariscos El Guero. Comes on tostada superfood.
They buy the fish at 4:30 am.

Then coconut stand. The coconut water is refreshing. Not crazy about the coconut. Ask for coconut oil. Great for anti aging.
(Vallarta was a former governor).

Totilla factory. Everything corn flour. Traditional families don't eat corn flakes. But chiquillas.

Stop at Lady of Guadalupe Church. Sierra madre towns come in pilgrimage. Little villages 91% catholic.

Gaby's. Christina owner cooks traditional food. Started in '89 as take out; this was her house. Her daughter is Gaby. Christina was named Entrepreneur of the Year. We sit in the garden. Mexicans take their time for lunch. At beginning lime drink. Then tequila (100% aguave!), sip it! and sangria. We taste the tortilla soup. Through Alex, Christina apologizes for yesterday's problem with the credit card.

We talk of how much Alex hates Tia Juana, Juarez, and Cancun.

Now to the candy store. Everything here is natural. We taste various candies, popcorn, nuts, coconuts, we meet the owner (of 6 stores) sweeping the street. Humble people, families; what makes the food so good is the passion. That's Alex’s final summing up speech. We give him 300 pesos tip. This tour has been a good experience, especially learning about the street vendors. 

Long walk back to find Lola still cleaning (it's always a mystery when she decides to visit us). "Com esta? mui caliente." You bet. And so we go to the upper deck to watch the water and catch the breeze.

I finish the Brunetti novel and though the waters look rough, take a swim so I can "deserve" my martini (our martinis - Bob says he'll go back to wine at cocktail hour when we go back home - I the devil say "You don't have to").

As we sit on our terrace, we can hear CNN reporting the end of Exodus ministries and their gay conversion policies – this provokes discussion. Might make an interesting play. I always thought the Haggard story had dramatic potential. Hmm.

Bob reviews photos of today's food adventures and enjoys them. Then there's pizza for supper to which Bob adds extra chopped cheese and hot sauce -- it's Mexico and so right.

We are patient as the sun eventually sets - is this, June 20, the longest day? Could be. One’s camera can not capture the beauty of a full sun saying sayonara.

Lets start Grishom's The Abduction.
Zzzz.

PV JUNE 21 FRIDAY

Hugo is not present this morning as he will not be next Monday so no Zumba. Elyptical and legs will have to do.
So back after a stop with Mikey's gourmet this-and-that and a trendy men’s clothing shop. Not. We're all set to go out to the beach and I find my nook is not in my bag. Bob is clearly annoyed with me because we need to get dressed and return to the gym in hopes it's there. Yea. It is still where I left it on the elyptical.

In reparation, I offer to buy Bob lunch and even 2 for one Margaritas but after passing by the beach restaurants like Daquiri Dicks, Si Signor and La Palapa we decide on the beach.

After my swim our first Margaritas are waiting with my seafood salad 120 p, not sure of all the ingredients but there's oysters, shrimp, calamari, octopus accompanied by taco chips and a sweet sauce. Bob too enjoys his quesadilla. This time our entrees are served on plates with silverware. Why is this day different than . . . ? 

Many characters are to be sighted on the beach today: 2 guys with their beautiful large dogs - we speculate on the breed - weimerangers? - who they take swimming with them. Then there's the mamacita with her umbrella and dress royally guarding her 2 grown sons (or are they lovers?) who frolic together in the bay. She eventually leaves them to their devices only to regally return later. There's the rather traditionally shaped woman whose attiire is more Brigitte Bardot than Fat Lady. That's just the neighbors.

A guy comes by to shake our hand and noisily asks Comidas. No gracias. Bob. “What was that?” Reuel. “Maybe he thinks we're communists.” The beach seems nuttier than usual today.

One of the dogs loves to swim. (Call him Reuel) The other (Bob) sees no percentage in it. I say once he gets in he's happy. Bob. "It'll take more than a whistle to get me in." They are lovely dogs.

Back home having left at 4:30 working on my photo captions - such fun - After showering we're in our smart casual pretties and ready by 6 for cocktails at Garbo's. Herman is not there but the martinis are. The regular guy there who is always on his MacBook shows everyone and us a video joke that his friends who come in-season sent him.
                                               
At Fusion, steps from our condo and around the corner from Garbo's where we are the only guests and where for us air conditioning upstairs is turned on, we select the gourmet restaurant week menu with our Chardonnays 189 p ($14) both tortilla soup (B "has a nice tang to it" R "wonderful") and crepes (B-/B) for dessert. (A different presentation of a crepe, not rolled over) R coconut mahi mahi. (A lot going on/ not entirely succesful) B chicken breast ("fun in a retro kind of way; wouldn't order again"). We always acknowledge that this is still a cut above Bohemio. ("Isn't everything" says Bob.) Just the multi-spiced butter on the Fresh warm rolls attests to that.

A few drops and the owners (look like brothers hyper and smoking furiously) with their Great Dane put tarps on the deck on which we look. 

We sit with our wine and listen to the free concert by the really good singer/guitarist below as the sun sets and we experience its sensational aftermath when the colors of sea and sky darken. Then there are some lightning flashes in the distance, which is what we pay the big bucks for. . . . No? This eve he's singing Mexican songs. I guess his one table is not Anglo.
Finally I get permission from Bob, a balcony stalwart now on his iPhone-something, to exit this impossibly romantic scene and seek rest in bed with the newest Nook novel.
Just as I finish it, around 10:30, Bob tells me there's a storm. It is exciting to watch - the thunder, the lightning -- from our balcony. Drama.

PV JUNE 22 SATURDAY

I am grateful to awake from a dream in which I once again am in a play and do not know my entrances or my lines. What cause is there for insecurity in this paradise? The bills are paid.

We take our leisure in getting to the gym. Bob decides after his treadmill to try the elliptical and decides it's tough. Yes.

We pass by the Saturday street market but the corn bread lady is not there; (her sample last week was delicious and I'd determined to get some.)

Then to buy 2 bathing suits, oh happy day! at "Best" the shop. A white and gray number was going to suffice until I saw the racy pink thing. That makes 5 this trip. Takes two years for them to stretch unacceptably. So . . . Of one bikini Bob says something very funny about why I shouldn't buy it which neither us can remember. And then "You've grown too much muscle around your waist. " Well turns out I am buying one size smaller this year . . . for no discernible reason.

Then for a last foray through the Paradise Community Center's Saturday market. First stop Marcia since we seek a birthday gift for Dorothy, specifically some earrings. We reject her "found" work for a "recycled antique" pretty enamel pair plus an "almost matching" pendant. And for Beth one of Marcia's necklaces which I model and take a photo wearing it with Marcia who hugs us goodbye since we won’t be seeing her for another year.

                                                                                        

A Jewish lady vendor tries to sell me (sampled) delicious chopped liver but the portion is too large for our remaining days (especially since Bob will have nothing to do with it) but in our nod to NYC , where it would seem is a popular place of origin for many of this gang of expats, we buy some bagels.

                                  
Since it's overcast we decide on Dacqueri Dick's where with a bottle of wine we actually dawdle - roly poly asks if we'd like another bottle when he discovers we're not driving home - no grasias – Reuel’s club sandwich is supposed to be “Best on the Pacific” -- no doubt a scientific survey – though surely it is one of the biggest meriting a doggy box; Bob likes his Asian Chicken salad.

                                                                                                  
We realize Bob and I are the lunch "crowd". Last night at Fusion we were the dinner crowd. Bob says maybe we're death to businesses. I reply sotto voce that we were to our own.

Nap time in the old corral. Then I try on my new suits and dance to the loud and insistent disco beat from the El Dorado below. We see the beautiful greyhound dog of the owner of the restaurant on the condo deck below trying to get into the condo through a window. Finally his owner comes out, asks if we received the letter explaining they're having a Corona Lite promotion until 12:AM. Apologizes for the noise and that they have ear plugs for us. "The promotion. It's the only thing we can think of to do in the low season." (Turns out that we know something about noise sensitivity in the hospitality business guy.)

I choose my new pink mi-kini for today's late afternoon swim. The bay is comparatively calm though it being Saturday, more bobbing people to swim past to get to Blue Chairs beach area where a circle of men are twirling their skimpy bathing suits above their heads. I choose not to swim further lest they think I'm a voyeur. (We voyeurs are sensitive about being recognized.)
Past the few fenced off revelers in the Corona Lite program through what I've dubbed "cat shit alley" very carefully in my bare feet; the lady novelist and also keeper of said cat seems to have escaped from the insistent beat.

Not Bob all ears on the balcony to whom, after my rinse, I serve martini and Mikey's Swiss cheese. Bob announces it’s the first day of summer so we kiss and make much of it (to that insistent beat; our private disco) it takes little premise to initiate these rituals. I say "we made it this far" - good enough reason for celebration.

Gotta dance. As I shake my cajoongas the roto lights on the deck platform in front of us start up; we expect when it begins to get dark (whenever that will be on this probably longest day of the year) they'll do marvelous things. By then I'll be all danced out (you know, red shoes syndrome; hears music can't stop gyrating, collapses dramatically).

We se a young guy dancing on the beach to whose moves I dance. We talk of Sam and Jordy dancing with us at occasions. I say everybody has a special style; it's like DNA. Bob too. We remember at Beth's wedding 25 years ago how all her liberal invitees stopped to watch us as we danced to their applause. Not now. Not necessary. We note the seismic shift in attitudes and talk of the impending- next week - Supreme Court decisions on the matter of those gay people amongst us all.

Some patrons below see me dancing above them and alert others. I wiggle a few bars to their delight, wave embarrassed and then retreat until the spirit next moves.
Ai yai there's an mc on the mic. I understand the words "Corona Light Mehico".

Two men are on the El Dorado deck, one an attractive blonde. They turn to watch me as I dance and I wave. As they leave the blonde guy smiles and waves to me. Bob says . "Ok you're a superstar. Get me another martini." Done. We're having a great time being disco bunnies. Now the lighting guys have discovered this dancing fool. Not clear what they think. Hey Jose there's a crazy guy at the condos dancing so don't worry about the volume.

Bob puts together a supper of lasagna, carrot and Greek salads, all from Mikey's all to be devoured on the now Disco patio.

The sky is anticipatory and though it's a half hour from sunset we've got that Beat. The lights have been covered we suspect in anticipation of a squall but the mc goes on and on and the music continues. "Particularly pretty out there", says Bob, "the rain with the particles in the lights. " Vurrry nice.
                                                                                                

And then an amazing light show. Just for us as far as we're concerned. And for this the owner apologized. Hee hee.

PV JUNE 23 SUNDAY
Supposed to be special enlarged moon morning. I open the balcony doors; the sky appears brighter to me; Bob emerging later says it isn't.

Breakfast is a bagel with cream cheese and peanut butter.

News says Edward Snowden has landed in Russia. Chuck Schumer saying Russia likes poking US in the eye. Yup.

At last we get the gazebo at the River Cafe, live jazz saxophonist in background (that wonderful mournful sound of Moonglow. "Sounds like being on the corner of a big city," says Bob. On the way a vendor we “no gracias” to, "Where you going with my money?" His cohorts laugh merrily.

Buffet of course. Custom scrambles. The biscotti is nice. Bring on the 2 X 1 Margueritas which are excellent. 3 of them each at $17.75 total. Yea.

Bob's signal of a raised glass is perceived by a certain distant swimmer and brings him ashore for yet another blended and frozen Marguerita. We are brave at 3:30 after the requisite nap to hie forth when there are occasional raindrops to be felt. Makes the beach moody, which is actually pleasant.

It’s Sunday at the beach and so much is happening. Vignettes. We're fascinated by a guy throwing a plastic bottle that his dogs race after. Seems a different place than the weekday beach. Much picture snapping. Oops thunder. Doesn't seem to deter anybody in or out of the ocean. Now serious rain, welts on the water rata tat on our umbrella.
We decide to leave the very moist beach after donning our rainbow blankets and taking necessary photos of our cuteness.

Soon we are dry at home and slurp our evening martini as we look out at the sea. Little girls summersaulting on the El Dorado deck until the workers spread tarps in preparation for more rain. "Heartbreakers" and "future Olympic hopefuls" from those in the delicious and box seats.

Din din is catered by Mikey's: ribs and vegis. Most gorgeous sunset even though we don't see it but its effects, a pink wedding cake behind a castle of clouds. Photos rule.
G'night.

PV JUNE 24 MONDAY

"Cold beer. Special discount today." This on the "vendor walk" along the beach back from the gym. Somehow we are moving more slowly this morning.

Overcast day.

La Palapa. Bottle of Mexican Chenin blanc (Reuel "strange" Bob "It will grow on you." Their wonderful Amuse Bouche plantain and sweet potato strips with dips and a mix whose ingredients we ask the server to recite: including but not limited to corn, papaya, mango and mints.
Reuel's Chicken Quesadilla: Mushroom, corn, huitlacoche, and molcajete sauce. Bob’s sizzling chicken fajita poblano pepper, pineapple mushroom. We always like this classiest of bayfront places. Service is like being on a cruise ship. Pelicans soaring gracefully over the bay which laps at the shore 30 feet in front of us.
Our waiter Maximo gives us a 100 peso certificate for the Vista Grill (Note: use it next year) and a request to mention him on Trip Advisor. Fascinating how tuned into the new social media responses these vendors are. Just got a request from Vallarta Food tours for a positive blurb.

Menacing boys on their water speed machines look like they're sizing me up for a target so I walk to the adjacent beach to enter the water as they now aim and speed the noisy malevolent things onto the El Dorado beach, home for the evening.
Just as well that I got out of the water (for my 5 pm swim) when I felt the nascent rain and detected the pull of swells on my way approaching Blue Chairs. It's now pouring (lovely and lively as viewed from the martini provisioned balcony) and the bay is . . . uneasy. It's pelting now.

Energy after a very relaxing - torpor defines it - day. When post-lunch we found Lola still cleaning we decided to view the model condo up the hill at Pinacle development's Signature with charming Shantelle as our guide. Swanky yes. I like the swim up bar pool of course. Good views. But at approx. $400,000 for either a 1 or 2 bedroom, small, and for Bob "not a felicitous arrangement". No Grasias. And at a low season rent of $2,880 for the month, we realize that Gary's larger condo right on the bay with it's minimal flaws ("dated") at $1000 a month is much to be preferred. Yea.

                                                

We count zero people on the beaches below. If they're there they are huddled under an umbrella. One person on the pier. "Not going to be much of a sunset tonight", Bob.
The rain is unrelenting.

We watch a cheesy bachelor show, gorgeous (homogenized) men pursuing a pretty woman for prizes. Wine flows and Bob's fajita leftovers from La Palapa are just the trick.

PV JUNE 25TUESDAY
"Another near-death experience" says Bob after our t-shirt drenching step class with Hugo. We stop off at Blu to make reservations for massages this afternoon. Awaiting Supreme Court verdict on same-sex marriage tomorrow. They disappoint on the Voters Rights Act today.


Cleaned up, we make our way past the gently importuning masseurs sitting on the steps of their various emporia on our street "looking like low rent hustlers" says Bob. At Joe Jacks ("one person and he's usually in the kitchen" according to the kitchy newspaper menu) Fish Shack where we are at first the only customers. Sitting on the upstairs terrace. We have as suggested by our food tour guy Alex the ginger Mohito (fab) and the "best hamburger in Vallarta" we'll or rather Bob will see. Verdict: "By Mexian standards high, by American so-so". We're learning hamburgers are not their thing. I order the fish sandwich (on a hamburger bun - quite good fish- wonder what it is). The place has energy - very Anglo oriented. At Bob's prompting the English speaking waitress shows us the root (huge) we are eating as Amuse Bouche. Great French Fries. Chubby Checker on the speaker. Other couple having mahi mahi salad and a salad nicoise with fish both of which the waitress says are very good especially the former. Next time. Next mojitos are
Strawberry and mango. (Prefer ginger.) We're eclectic. And if not ecstatic, happy.
Lunch for $27 pre-tip ( we had a 10% coupon from the tour co.) Mr. Dan Diego should be so accommodating.

            

And then the hour arrives for our massages. This time I have a tall young man Leo, who is very good, strong hands, sensual, seems to know where the knots are (and despite total relaxation here in the same tropical meridian as Hawaii there are plenty of them) and Bob draws Martin himself, the owner, and declares this "the best massage of my life". Note. Next time Bob request Martin! He goes home and I stay on for a much needed and wonderful pedicure from Ana. Note. Get pedicures! I feel almost foolishly sybaritic sinking into my plushy armchair while she attends to my “crappy” (my podiatrist’s word for them) feet. Hence after 40+ minutes for a $15 pedicure I give her a 100 peso tip which is what we give for our massages. Cost of the massages and the pedicure about $100 pre-tips. Well worth it. Another Vallarta plus.

                                                                                           

Fun walking back to the condo through the streets of Vallarta by myself and then back again a veritable ex-pat (Bob sweetly says that’s what I look like and I swoon) to the liquor store for final vodka when I use my massage greasiness and relaxed muscles as an excuse this one time to avoid a swim in the ocean below.

Only a gentle rain this evening, just that old debbil bay with nothin to do but lap against the shore and support boats laden with roosting pelicans. Coupla martinis and leftovers.

PV JUNE 26 WEDNESDAY

It appears the big rain of Monday night has knocked out our TV reception for good, so there's a pleasant peacefulness here as we breakfast, me on La Palappa quesadilla leftovers for the first time in our dining room at table with serene bay view, Bob on his iPhone with traditional toast and peanut butter at the enormous coffee table in the Living Room.

At the gym I tell the English (and Spanish) speaking lady about Bob's "near death" characterization of yesterday's step class. She's hysterical and relates it to the other guy in zumba who Bob and I refer to as "the hottie" for reasons obvious to us. Great last PV Zumba class with Hugo. Hope he's doing it next year.

After Zumba we buy baskets containing foodstuffs and tequila for Gary and Don. Too early to go to Gaby's nearby for lunch so it's a beach/lunch day.

"Cigars?" No. "Weed, blow, ecstasy?" Maybe we should indulge. It's a great day for celebration as we have just discovered through the web (TV being out for underground repairs) the Supreme Court's decision announced when we were at the gym nullifying Prop 8 and defeating DOMA. Another step forward for equality.

At the beach I say "let's kiss." Bob agrees but asks why. Understands instantly when I reference The Decisions. Our margaritas are another opportunity to Kiss and celebrate. Very high tide and walls of waves breaking, the highest yet on this holiday, so Reuel waits to plunge in (though it offers a dramatic front row show, the water almost reaching our variously pedicured toes) and orders the seafood salad, Bob the "golden brown chicken strips".

                                                  

Although it’s been overcast, the weather has been pleasant today. What a lovely holiday this has been. Spoke soon. It rains so our attentive server moves us back to the protection of a straw covered palapa. Our new home away from home. Neat.

Several treads out to determine the sea is sufficiently roiling to discourage even the most foolhardy, this one 3 margaritas strong passes by the few youths looking wary with their expectant boards and ventures into the marginally less turbulent ocean. In tribute to the last sea day I swim to the seahorse statue to the north (beware the rock formations closer in) and to the south past the El Dorado within yards of the new pier and the boats we look out on from our balcony. A long swim too near a speedboat towing Mexican tourists in a banana boat and then being dragged into the undertow; but my twisting leg survives despite those seconds when my life passes before me (and found wanting).

I'm cleaned up and wearing my "whites". No more vodka in the larder so we head off to Herman and Garbo's for a martini, eager to talk of the Supreme Court victory and Herman, a lawyer (and smart bartender), listens intently. Mexico City has same-sex marriage rights as it turns out. Some ex-pats come in but that's not at the forefront of their attention. We hug goodbye. Next year.

Back home deciding we're not hungry enough for a sit-down somewhere and are happy for leftovers and wine and a last charming evening view over the ocean. For appetizers, today's chips with Ley supermarcado's salsa; supper is chicken from Mikey's with veggies from La Palapa all on a taco with some Salsa Ranchera (no flies on us). Fabuloso. Really.
The ocean makes strenuous sounds as it crashes to the shore but in the distance it is peaceful, unperturbed (Pacific if you will).
We argue about God knows what (as "Real" married couples will- not the inauthentic kind ) so we have a Popsicle and all is wonderful as the rain comes in again at sunset. Beautiful.

We read about the rulings on our iPhones. We wonder the impact of our filing our personal taxes jointly (at least the preparer fee should be cheaper ). . !

PV JUNE 27 THURSDAY

Last day. Up at 7 and Bob knocks on the balcony glass to see rays of sunrise peeking out to the North. I say that sunrise is also included in our condo package.

Still no TV reception despite Sam's promise that it would be back on yesterday. At least we don't have to endure CNN's new New Day morning mess of a program. Bob says he never knew how much he misses Chuck Todd. Vacations have their value.

Bob settles on toasted thins but I concoct a rather quirky breakfast of leftovers, yogurt, Mikey's fried chicken thigh and Fusion's coconut fish concoction. Yum.

Bob decides to stay home and pack while I am to go to "near death" step class. It is, near death that is, but I feel worthy and enjoy ambling back through once again familiar streets.

Last minute preparations for the journey back, final packing mostly. Since our Phoenix flight will be delayed a half hour we decide to cancel Rocko's 7:30 training session tomorrow.

"Beautiful day" Bob says as we sit down at our ringside table at La Palapa after stopping off for pesos at the peso spitting machine. I order an extra dry stoli, "so dry you can eat it” says Bob. Nice hearing the rattle of the shaker at the bar - like a maracas serenade. I hear the echo of Rocco's client Mikey saying "you guys know how to live." The precious liquid is up to brim and requires delicate balance to get the glass to the lips. (The way God intended.) We are the only ones being served in the big palapa.
Again (this is our 3rd time here this holiday) the Amuse Bouche is wonderful plantain and sweet potato strips with all kinds of marvelous sauces varying in degree of spice - beware the orange colored one - and mixes to apply thereon.

We decide on the 3 course menu for 250 pesos. After all it's our last day. I say that we've come to believe we're entitled to the best. (La Palapa is highly rated in PV.) Bob says that's because we're old.

Pork potstickers as an appetizer. (Beached on, thank goodness, a delicious sauce) Entree:
Bob has pork. Huaraches with green tomatillo sauce. Beans w fine herbs, cream, guacamole and fresh cheese. "It's very good. Excellente. They do a nice job." Reuel tries the Vallata fish fillet with shrimp, white wine sauce, creamy rice and vegies. "Its all spectacular". I attempt to extoll its fabulous virtues to Bob but he still is impervious to the blandishments of dreaded dishonorable Fish.

We watch the negotiations going on with a vendor peddling an elephant tapestry with the prosperous looking winter/summer Mexican couple. She's had a boob job and really thinks she's entitled. Finally no sale.

Dessert: Bob doesn’t love his flan with Mexican chocolate caramel. Reuel’s crepes w cachet and cinnamon ice cream-- Spectacular!

It's 2:30. We say our goodbyes to the ever upbeat Lola (1000 pesos) and to the vary-mooded Lupita at the lobby desk (100 pesos) and a cab at the corner instantly and happily solicits us.

Next year.