2017 PUERTO VALLARTA JUNE 30-JULY 21.
FRIDAY JUNE 30.
Here in the Alaska Air waiting area--no lounge in Terminal 1 like the terrific one in Terminal 2 that makes flying an almost pleasant experience. Our Uber driver,an interesting chap originally from Egypt (which he says we can indeed visit; I just haven't found any tours that will take us) tells us it's much easier these days to fly from Tijuana--nah.
Easy time through security. Not shoeless cause old and have TSA pass. Alaska's telling us they'll give us 500 bucks and a free trip to Hawaii if we don't get on the plane. Tempting. Hope they don't drag us off.
Why are so many people going to PV in July? It's hot and rainy. Why are we? Because . . . We can. (Hope the experience will provide a better excuse.) Actually I've planned not to write much of a blog post since we've been to PV so often--same condo and all. But I screwed up the last blog with its great photos and fascinating and all-encompassing (ahem) narrative by deleting photos and diminishing type in the draft to copy fewer than the 60 or so pages (!) for a reference to the restaurants we like and so on but it got re-published that way--so I'll Need (need?) to make some notes and take some pics on this trip--meant to be a relaxing one where I can work on my newest play (a full length version of The Gift) between swims while Bob tries to avoid the sun as he takes cover under a palapa. Time to cue up.
Girl in seat in front does not shut up for one second--remarkable breath control. We decide to break our liquor fast (5 weeks without a drop! Because of marginally successful nutrisystems diet. Actually lost 12.5 pounds. Now weigh 154 (still too heavy). Chardonnays for 2 please.
Looking forward to packing it back on in PV tacoville.
We've got this getting into PV thing down. Taxi is about 20 bucks and tip the driver 100 pesos cause he helps (thank god) with our 50 pound bags.) Yes! I can write my play and blog at the same time--chewing gum etc. A bassoon improbably is playing in the near distance from my balcony perch over the beach. What's that about? We're here! Lupita at the reception desk loves us. Well maybe likes a little. She remembers us, saying "it's been 3 years." Right. "Everything the same. " Pretty much. Yea.
Sitting with our martinis and I inventive traveler fashion a toothpick for the olives we thought to pack out of a paper clip. What's that insistently playing? Bob insists it's a faugel horn not a bassoon. Ok. It's still wonderfully silly, incongruous and just right for martinis on our balcony. Yea.
OMG. This is wonderful!
It's Alessandro at Bohemios. Our first night hangout for supper Year after year. Mango margaritas. 2 for 3 dollars. Lentil soup (very acceptable) comes with our Fabuloso Fajitas dinners.
I say we never regarded Bohemio as haute cuisine. Bob. "But it's good for what it is. Home cooking somebody's mother would make." (Not either of our mamacitas.)
A couple of glasses of cab. Ok. Tastes red. Across the street is a place called Barbers and Booze. What could be more perfect. Gotta send this to Rick, owner of my haute hair emporium. He loves PV in his way as everyone does in their way.
We talk of anticipated travels not up to our dreams of them. I say we let fall the raiment of our expecting on the floor behind us. (Booze talk.)
Bob says very satisfying dinner--didn't eat the rice. Ok. When we leave there is a downpour--of course. Can sleep be far behind? We're already on Vallarta time.
SATURDAY JULY 1.
Welcome to July. And a dandy welcome for us it is. Imagine--sleeping whole night through. Tip: next time bring even more extension cords and charger cables for the many indoor and outdoor charging opportunities here.
Good for Olivia DeHaviland at 101 suing FX for unauthorized use of her identity. Sweet Melanie is a bitch! I should be as feisty at that age (hmm.) Ruminations on our balcony quaffing brewed tea (me) and instant coffee (him).
At 6's and 7's by 10:30 am. In betwixt time for dining and one or both of us will get irritable so decide to have protein bars to fend off that option--perhaps.
Long line at the exchange Machines and we require almost humiliatingly the services of others to change the direction language from Spanish to English. Let's try the Saturday farmers market and get some provisions so we won't face dreaded breakfast-time hunger again. CLOSED and abandoned forever. So we hobble (BOB's hip affliction presumably incurred at the gym--is really causing him pain) over to Mikey's and spend almost $60 . . . On delightful foods.
And the same amount for four bottles of wine at the bodega stocked with liquor, stopping for Bob to rest at various benches along the way back home.
12:45 we're at Dacquiri Dicks where our waiter CARLOS speaks great English. Jesus does bus. Oscar he says works only evenings so I guess we won't see him. I note that this isn't a place visited by nationals. "It's for people like us--upscale old people". On target.
We enjoy our salads. My Asian salad quite good though I'm wary of the lettuce--"die is cast anyway if it's not well washed." Bobs Caesar salad's carne is not stringy--since I asked. "Muy excellente." Interesting character very gregarious disabled fat guy wheeled in knows everybody on staff, very positive, vocal. I admire people like that--first of all singles who manage singly never mind disabledy.
We almost forget that we're supposed to ask for the check--reminded when Bob says they're not interested in turning tables. The bill comes to 780p plus 150 cash tip=$57.
It's close to 3 and no sign of the rain Bob promised "at 3" so I will go swimming "with the Mexicans" though they don't swim, just stand around and socialize pretty much. The good news is that there's now a wooden walkway to the beach past the Eldorado restaurant below us which means that this year I don't need to walk through catshit deposited by the downstairs lady's cats. The water is bathtub warm which is most suitable indeed and I swim a little way North toward the pier--not too close lest I be decapitated by a speedboat and more of the way South close to the famed Blue Chairs gay resort. I take pleasure in watching a dad place his tiny son on a surfboard to the child's delight then horror when he realizes he'll be out on his own--a metaphor there. When I return and rinse off, Bobs out on the balcony reading a Ruth Rendall novel "The Vault" when I return.
Big martinis finally get us off the balcony and dipping into our new cheese, a delicious sharp cheddar. Then the conundrum of the tv. There's something Called Idiom that translates back into English from the translated Espanol. Finally find the channel that gives us Jeopardy (we can't keep up--must settle into accepting old age) then Wheel of Fortune--Vanna White is anti-feminist with grace (find those letters honey)which makes her a favorite with Trumpian middle American ladies, I opine stuffily. That's the kind of talk that supposedly lost the Demos the election/s.
Now that we're drunk--hey it's a bottle of red. In our colloquial I come up with the phrase out of century experience--was in context.
Screw the weather report. We'll actually see the sunset today. Where's the f...ing rain? Ha!
SUNDAY JULY 2.
Another good long night of sleep for both of us interrupted for me only by the creaking of the living room fan and the necessary bathroom break. A dream of buying a new Buick which I can't find after purchase. Meaning? Not your father's Buick? Before Bob rises (having as usual gone to bed later) I've had toast slices (from our "expensive but good" batard as Bob describes it--isn't that so for everything at Mikey's deli but what the hell) one with melted cheese, the other peanut butter accompanied by brewed tea in a glass Russky style. A satisfying breakfast. This repast while the only mildly interesting Sunday shows drone on in the living room had on the balcony now overlooking little fishing boats some manned by fishermen, most by pelicans all hopeful that the now placid ocean will yield up food.
I find Face the Nation which will have to do for a Sunday news fix because soon the wrong buttons are being pressed (note passive construction) and a wall of Spanish noise invades. Bob showered and getting ready (unlike moi) announces that if we're going to the River Cafe, brunch closes at 1:30 and it's a 13 minute walk (TMI!).
Love River Cafe--the slightly better situated but more expensive Oscars is always empty. What drug kingpin keeps it alive? Buffet. Daniel waiter I recognize. He asks do you watch porn? Yes. That's how you know me. Ta da. GReat seating in a tented area over the cuale. I think it's a kind of Gringo gulch. Obligatory iguanas climbing the trees. All the selections are excellent. A couple of chards each and the total is $54. Were not cheap dates. Meet a charming voluble lady there from Houston Texas staying 6 weeks. Keisha?
On the way back-necessary stops for still-ailing Bob, I climb Blu MASSAGE's steps to reserve 2 massages for us tomorrow at 4. Me with my bad neck. Bob with his bad leg. I promise many more.
I get to swim among the Mexicans and bob along with the fat men at Blue Chairs. I'm an anomaly this funny old guy swimming, actually swimming with goggles as the only one On The beach swimming, the entire beach. A guy I think I recognize from some years past as I hobble out of the waves with my googles smiles at me--does he perceive me as a decrepit old guy or is he just taking pleasure. Bob has a lovely Mikey's meal ready with my Martini then wine. We converse. It's deep content and it passes as the breezes over the Mexican ocean.
MONDAY JULY 3.
Tomorrow will be July 4th and we will display our patriotism by showing our support for our good neighbor Mexico having traversed over the real or imagined Wall.
Today it's the continuing pursuit of pleasure. Not tough to do here. I've slept 10 hours or so. Breakfast of toast, peanut buttered, and a hard boiled egg--watching the placid ocean. By 10 we are at Fit--3200 pesos for 30 visits. (Not cheap.) Where's the Zumba instructor? When she hasn't arrived by 10 after I inform the desk and shortly thereafter a sexy Mexican guy appears and puts us (4 Mexican women and me) through our paces. At points he dances with me, at one point gesturing that I should butch it up. Hilarious. At the end he gives me one of those knowing looks and says a laudatory "yeah" both of which I give him back. Bob meanwhile has walked the treadmill and plied the weight machines.
So we're ready for a $50 shopping spree at nearby Mikey's fabulous deli. That Mikey knows how to make a mean portabello pizza and Greek, tuna and garbanzo salads, chicken breasts, and knows how to charge for them. I point out to Bob, who clearly plans to buy all of the eponymous Mikey's goods, that it's ok--we know how to raise rents too.
After trudging with our bags along the beach, Lupita at the condo tells us the electricity will be turned off for five minutes. I pretend to be enraged and tell her I won't stand for it but alas she doesn't fall for my ruse. "We'll live" I say. But it's hot out and more than five minutes might be a problem.
Can lunch be far behind? It's a beach day (what isn't) and it's off to Ritmos Beach, our favorite, despite guys along the way trying to sell us on the neighboring time-share beach. Front row seating (I.e. Oceanfront) since it's a weekday. Norbert takes our order for 2 Tecate lights and 2 steak quesadillas 350 pesos with tip--under $20--despite my warning in the last Mexico blog that one steak quesadilla is enough for sharing. Looks like we'll take home one rather warm order and hope we don't die of some terrible stomach ailment. I get to swim in the untreacherous warm water (is it that July is better than June for the ocean--we'll see) before and after food service. Working on the play is difficult with the blaring of disco style music from both Ritmos and it's neighbor. We've actually got a dj it turns out. Back well before three to take showers before the next event, our massages at Blu Massage.
Our partner massage therapists are both excellent--mine, Raoul an older guy, has strong hands though I don't think he's done much for my pesky neck pain. 2 massages for 1000 pesos plus 150 p each for a tip.
TUESDAY JULY 4.
How will this day be different than all other days with the obvious exception that it's July 4th--notably uncelebrated in Mexico.
I watch iTunes videos of Glide classes which are scheduled for 9 at Fit and decide it's too treacherous for an aging fall guy like me. A trip to Fit un-class-ified however for a desultory workout where we get to watch the brawny personal trainers show assorted elderly but fit gay men how it's done.
On our return, Bob makes tuna fish Sandwiches which we have with Greek salad and wine on the balcony--not on the beach but over the beach today.
For $5.55 including a 30% tip, we get two Tecate Lights, ocean front seating and a delightful afternoon--at least Reuel gets to swim a couple of times. Strangely as the afternoon rolls on the beach gets more crowded. And our timing is perfect. We leave as the sky is darkening before three and by 3:45 we're on our balcony watching a drenching rain afflict the coastline (and knock out our dish tv service). Love the sound and the look of the real spectacle in front of us. And, slut and fool for atmospherics that I am, I stir up 2 martinis even though it's only 4 pm.
By 4:30 the deluge has called it quits and the air is cooler--win win. However we're still imprisoned (hearty ha ha) on our balcony with the martinis and cheese h'ors deuvres (Bob asks is that the expensive cheese-only possible answer is yes). "You pay for your hifalutin' lifestyle party boy." (Made that up--didn't really say it--not that clever.)
This day July 4. North Korea aims an intergalactic missile at us--can reach Alaska. Do we want Trump to deal with this? And item two on the 4th. His admin wants personal info on us voters-/thank god for the vestiges of democracy that 44 states say no way Jose. But of the others? Can there be this amount of erosion in our democracy? I'm scared. I'm angry. I'm scared.
Chardonnay at 6. And Bob fiddles in the kitchen. What of Mikey's specialties will emerge?perfection. And our wine is a 2016. What could be better?
WEDNESDAY JUL5.
Reuel makes himself another big breakfast with a perfect egg frittata (just add cheese sliced, butter and milk) with salmon toast and cottage cheese. Need energy which will be required for Giovanni's Latin dance class. The guy's one of the best yet. He's charming and has flair. I'm exhausted. Get to pal around with tall blonde lady who says she's from Holland (sounds American to me) and Mono, plump former criminal attorney in San Francisco with her husband both of whom moved here and have "a political show" here.
On beach I'm going to try a massage. 400 p. Santiago. (I'll give him 500.) We've seen him for years. His is not a gentle massage but he's got a lot of knots to unravel with me.
It turns out that out that our usual beach spot, Ritmos, is closed on Wednesdays--thanks for not telling us. So our search begins. Next door at Altamar charges 200p per person as "rent" plus a 250p minimum. We've had lunch so that's not an option. Blue Chairs has quarters too close and is full. Finally we settle on Sapphire which has the rent fee but no minimum. Their free bottled colored water will have to do.
Why is that man holding a giant balloon that says "Luis and Xavier Together Forever"? Straining against the chords that hold it up he stands there forever.
The water is so calm that I can float on it.
Bob refuses to leave until 4 pm. I guess he wants his money's worth. Home to finish the last of our vodka with a supper Bob rustles up.
THURSDAY JULY 6
10:3 and We're a half hour early for Ritmos Green Chairs to be ready for us. They've just started sweeping the sand though shortly we take our rightful green seats followed by the umbrella guy, then the tables guy while Reuel has his first swim of the day, delighted to be solitary, unimcombered by the floating flotsam and jet boat fuel and other human creatures of later in the day.
Of course at 11:24 since we're the only guys on the beach the vendors are particularly insistent, incredulous we have a no gracias interest in their cigars or weed. Finally 11:25 another couple.
Another swim while our bloody Mary's arrive. And they are yum yum. We'll have another young Gencel (pronounced Kensel) while awaiting our order of chicken quesadillas to share.
Note that the best body on the beach guy of 3 years ago now has with his more Hispanic looking husband two adorable Anglo-appearing children. How shall I write this story?
12:35 the Latin disco music starts. Oh well.
Some writing. More swims. $27.58 for a lovely afternoon. And back home by 3, in time to . . . Nap.
FRIDAY JULY 7
Damn those bloodies are good. And here comes our steak quesadillas (to share). I've already had my first swim. Life's good. Had a good Zumba workout with Fernando earlier. He's funny. Has this sort of butch affect--just indicates a step and then retires until the next combination comes up. Has his little coterie of mexgirls. There was the very pleasant Dutch woman, Alika (?) and lo and behold Bob gives it a whirl--and enjoys it. Yea. Then we are released into the world to spend rather extravagantly at Mikey's deli (Bob is an addict) and at the liquor store--we are officially out of the vodka we brought. Guess 3 Rum Runner containers are a week's worth. (And who's the addict?)
First time the sea has gotten a little rough. Still offers a pleasant experience.
The "how many, how many" lady of years past has worked herself from vendor of chochkas to a masseuse and pedicurist of the beach.
Quick swim before we leave at 3. Got to get ready for our 4 pm massage. Responsibilities! Shower and this time it's Long haired Omar (for me) and Gabriel for Bob--our couples massage, only 1000 pesos for both of us. We splurge on 150p tips each. And make another appointment for
next Friday. They are both excellent masseurs, Bob saying Gabriel was even better than his last masseur.
Shower and we're ready for our close ups at . . . Garbo's at 6:30. Lovely chatting with German, the proprietor. It's as if we never left. There was some refurbishment since we left--German can't believe it's been three years. He's gotten into real estate sales--inevitable Since he's an entrepreneur superior and an attorney.
Stagger around the corner to Bohemios. Our guy--the only guy Saul (in Palm Springs) leaves for his summer customers--announced that a couple (only couple there) have our table. We've got our choice of all the others. We have the most expensive items on the menu--my seafood paella (needs spicing but it's all there) is $9, Bobs sizzling platter is $7 and a bottle of red from Chile is $13.50. Such a deal. And I get a doggy bag for my dish. (Will we really eat all the food piling up in our fridge--Mikey's and doggies?)
Stop off at Oxxo for Red Devil chocolate popsicles which are incredibly good. Nice bit of sweet topping off a sweet day.
SATURDAY JULY 8.
TV is all about the end of the G20 summit. Great violence there in Hamburg. Don't these people like government leaders meeting, some--not all--having productive conversations? What's the harm? Most leaders stabbing at Trumps refusal to join the Paris Accord. We are so f-ing doomed.
It's gym or a long walk and very long walk had it. After all it's a relatively pleasant day (we're lucking out thus far). First to the fabulous glass place where we once bought lots of swizzle sticks to give as gifts but kept them for ourselves anyway--the way god intended. This time I find a curious snow globe for our international snow globe collection (given pride of place in our hallway niche and of untold value). Though we have a PV one, this item sports palm trees with diamonds (pronounced Dye-munds). Who could dast pass up?
We pass Gaby's restaurant just beyond the great PV church with its almost silly-/if I were a religious man--crown headpiece--tourists cramming in--but at 11:30 it's too early for lunch. Locals are having breakfast there. There's more beautiful malacon to walk and avoid the Cuban cigar and tequila hucksters: "Amigos! " To find the big old supermarket and search for BOB's coffee and peanut butter-I appalled to find he packed a bottle now defunct--the guy tips the old lady packer--classy guy. Really.
We are in Gabys (owner Christina, daughter Gaby)now at 12:30 and destined to be the sole customers, cynosure of the server Muriel--a man- and the resident cat who stares at me appealingly until futility turns to feline disdain. Muriel is a great character. Despite back and forth quip no smiles in evidence.
We order the Cadillac margarita large por favor with as Muriel would have it ricea not tequila. He says tequila gives you throat cancer but ricea will make us live longer. Turns out he and his brother on the "reservation" two hours south of here make the ricea brew. He shows us the month long process-overground distillation "all natural"--on his iPhone. Of course he sells the stuff and since I'm into this longer life thing especially if I can be drunk enjoying it will no doubt buy as I promise for a later visit. We order the well-remembered Cadillac margarita--lets go swimming in the bowl--and later he will be required to replenish with another margarita, this time the smaller version. I say we're going to have a real long life. He says you'll never get sick. As to the shared sizzling steak, chicken and shrimp fajitas--simply the best! Oh joy.
Somehow we manage to get back home--to nap--for hours! The ricea is already making us healthy. (Oops. Just sneezed loudly and the mechanical bird in a cage in the living room loft starts pchirping. An amazing, if annoying, artifact that we suppose, a fixture all the years we've been coming here, adds to the fey charm of the place.) I get up, find Bob on the balcony manipulating his iPhone and I send an email to the president of the company that purloined ten years ago millions (gasp) from us on a West Sacramento apartment project. I ask if it will finally, please mammon, be sold. We'll see. Maybe we'll buy a condo here in PV among other bizarre projections of still unrealized gain.
Looks like we're in for the evening. Bobs got his Chardonnay, Reuel his martini. The chirping bird for the moment is silent. Bob has an understandably hard time distinguishing between me and the old guy Solly in my play--as do I . Solly can be offensive. Oops. Am I hiding in him?
Do you need to know how lovely a time we're having on our balcony--plash sound of waves-ok talk about who we are as old guys--what's fulfilling for each of us now--but that's subsumed under the alcohol and Bob's exit to rustle up some vittles.
SUNDAY JULY 9.
Peanut butter on toast is irresistible. I see now why it's Bob breakfast of choice.
We watch the pigeon of the eaves systematically deconstructing the roof of the palapa below and then watch it fly back up to create its nest. Bob wonders if will see its babies before we leave this enchanted isle. All that determination, that effort to propagate the species. I break away from watching the glacially moving movie about Keats and Franny Braun, BRIGHT STAR, to watch the pigeon lose its (is it the father or the mother?) footing on the steep incline and struggle at its dutiful task.
I leave to take a shower and Keats is still dying, Fanny mourning. A Jane Campion film, wonderfully acted, Ben Wishaw as Keats (we saw him as John Proctor in Miller's The Crucible on Broadway a few years ago).
At beachside La Palapa downstairs from our condo. Bob: Here the ladies have hooks for their purses. I note that River Cafe offered the same amenity. I say "it's a better culture. And they don't have Trump," which puts me in an instantaneously bad mood. Our server suggests a locally brewed beer Vida Latina, amber colored, pleading aroma and quite tasty. My seafood enchilada is muy delicioso though I should not have tried the pepper embedded in the accompanying rice paddy.
The beach is humming. Occasionally venders walk by and wave their goods at us--a hat, a hand puppet. Not tempted gracias.There's a mariachi band serenading of diners on the beach competing with the soft jazz of the bar behind us. Bob likes his club sandwich and the fries "not too salty but crisp", which reminds me of an interview on one of the shows this morning with Matthew Gladwell who in his newest book lambasts McDonald's fries as having changed for the worse in an attempt to be healthier. The network is at pains to allow McD's to rebut this and the host claims he loves the fries as they are now. We live our corporate culture. 740p before tip.
Nappy. So we are playful after our entirely full martinis of the reprehensible Sky vodka (next time plunk down the extra pesos for the Usual) and we play improv word games and feel clever even if tipsy tips the scales.
I'm only mildly despondent that the play I'n writing is unworthy. I'm collecting anecdotal pieces from the news about recent intolerance in America and violence thereof. An Indian doctor moving to middle America who must--fearfully after the election--explain Islam, a widow of a murdered Muslim man and so on must be the next play. It needs to be . . . Said! But for now I must finish/edit the present one about the gap between an old queen, a young transgender and the people around them living and dead.
Bob is in charge of rustling a little something up. The noises that result from our tiny kitchen are comforting
.TUESDAY JULY 11.
What a treat for Bob. I get to make him toast and eggs. And he likee.
FIT is a trip this morning. There's muscley laconic Fernando who gives me a big smile (Bob says he's showing evidence of being human). Some aggressive American guy being strange with Mexican muscle guys. What's going on there? It's the weight machines for us.
Beach: The waves are strong today--big at a certain time--it's essential I give it a try. The idea is to swim beyond the crashing waves. Two bloodies for Reuel, two Tekate Lights for Bob. The nice couple next to us lets me know
After a delightful comparatively small (albeit telling) martini at home, Bohemio's offers a cordon blue special with that bottle of wine for $13 or $14, a $2 markup we noted in the big market where we discovered Alessandro the manager/server shops--not gonna find that anywhere else in the world. Lentil soup comes with. Always a good choice. Then a popsicle at Ozzo.
It's not MSNBC but CNN is ok and the conversation is all about D. Trump Jr. and his meeting with a Russian operative. Heady stuff. What next? Dan Rather: "This is Shakespearian in tragic terms for the country. . . . We've never had a presidency that disintegrated this fast . . . One of the great scandals of American history. . . . We need to know the facts. . . . What else are they hiding?"
WEDNESDAY JULY 12
It's glorious Wednesday when we have the fabulous Georgio for Latin dance class (not to be confused with Zumba or Fernando's) class. I wear my special Zumba pantaloons, matching shirt, socks and watch which Bob insists no one will notice. Wrong. Alika, our Dutch Canadian friend, comments as I do about her gold lame outfit. Georgio gives us what I call "off-off-Broadway" class routines requiring great finishes--curtsie, bows, flamingo poses. Bob enjoys it. Yea.
But we must get back to demand pride of place at beach side Mantamar (or whatever it's called) Beach Club at 215p each just for the privilege of luxe divans and towels. Against our 250p minimum (no problem there) we have Cadillac margaritas (Bob loves 'em and has three!) a club sandwich (Bob) and a cheeseburger (Reuel). Alas the fries are good.
I come in from my 2nd swim only to discover Bob has finally succumbed to the complete sybaritic life and is having his feet massaged by a nice looking young man, Ivan, whose brother soon joins us--not to massage but to rest until they go off to their next clients. It is indeed a good experience--I have one too. (1000p with tip.) When a server comes over to give us some more shade I whisper to Bob that we've achieved the good life.
Which continues when we've showered at home and settle into martinis with a not bad Polish vodka.
THURSDAY JULY 13.
From our balcony we listen to the waves pounding the shore (does rougher water await today?), hear the insistent coos of either mother or babies in the eaves above, and watch a black bird perched atop a palapa below struggle with its food. Less struggle with our toast topped with either that creamy pepper cheese or peanut butter.
And then inside to watch the pomp of Trump's reception in Paris for Bastille Day. Verdict: he's happy to get out of Washington and the cauldron where his first son and his presidency is boiling. And Macron is one smart French cruller.
We're delighted although surprised that Stanley and his sig. other Reuben actually show up at 5:15. Stanley rents a 2 bedroom here (which means--condo rules--that there's no air conditioner in the living room). Stanley is a stitch. Turns out he barely speaks Spanish and Reuben, at 47 is 32 years Stanley's junior, doesn't speak English. He is one of 18 siblings--"number 10". Stanley bought Rueben an apartment in a Mexican community--"not my style"--for $22,000 but Rueben would like a house. Stanley is hysterical describing the neighborhood of an available lot Rueben likes. Very companionable guys. After they leave we're in no mood to go out so the last of our pizza does nicely. and a nice pate. For supper with Anderson Cooper, who is outraged at the White House lies about jr. Bob rustles up meatloaf, veggies and portobello mushroom courtesy of course of the blessed Mikey.
FRIDAY JULY 14-
Well here's a bit of gossip. After muscle guy butch Fernando does a most suggestive dance step in the genre of a female stripper, I wonder if he isn't in fact a stripper. And that's when Alika confides that she's heard he is. I ask where. Anthropologie--which is pretty down and dirty. We both agree a guy's got to make a living.
Afterward when we're bringing our bottles of merlot and cab to the clerk she asks "No vodka today?" We're getting a rep here.
Beach. Paradise. Few swims. Couple of bloodies. Breaded chicken strips for Bob. "Delicious." Fajitas and steak Reuel. Nice.
Home in time to shower for our massages at 4 with Gabriel (Bob) and Omar (Reuel). Bob loves Gabriel's ministrations, Reuel less enamored with Omar. Nevertheless I make a reservation for next Thursday.
Trading messages with Sheryl about a charitable remainder trust.
It's French onion soup today's special for us exclusively apparently since we're once again Alessandro's only customers at Cafe Bohemio. We've actually walked through the rain to get here. It's Friday night and we can't stay at home. The soup as always is unspiced. "Basic cooking" reminds Bob. The chef and his sous chef from next door are sitting reading their I-phones. At least we're giving someone business. Bob has chille Reyeno. "If my mother could have made it, this is exactly how she would have made it. . . . The most charitable thing that can be said about Cafe Bohemia is that they have a shitty Mexican cook." "We love it." I've got the ever-popular shrimp dish and it's not bad at all. There's a breaded pineapple flavored shrimp and a sort of pork chop shrimp. (Gotta be there.)
Lovely at this time walking along the malecon, watching with everybody the gorgeous sunset. And the breeze keeps the temperature just fine thank you. We pass Alika and her friends having dinner at the beachside restaurant next to La Palapa. She calls out to us and we mine Zumba dancing. Fun. We're connected. And there are Stanley and Ruben sitting in the lobby of our condo building El Dorado. Connections.
At the River Cafe, we are assigned Daniel again, I suppose because he speaks English. It's a lucky pairing because he's funny and attends to us as does the maitre d'. They carry our buffet selections back to our table--one we've often had by the Cuale. As to those selections, very sweet lady makes a fabulous omelet for us. Then there's the fresh fajitas we get shredded beef to fill, and a rolled blintz-like something that's delicious. This accompanied by a bottle of Chardonnay though Daniel replaces a glass when there's "wine in a fly"--one of many buzzing about. I wonder where the Iguanas have gone--"have they migrated to Oscar's Cafe?" Daniel finds one for us and it's a beauty. We promise to return next year.
At last we're dining at Archie's Wok. Forever here in PV
and a favorite of John Houston when he was filming Night of the Iguana. Oh the
soups! Bobs gazpacho and my spicy shrimp and coconut soup. My goodness. Glad
they've changed their closing days from June-July to Sept, which German
explains is when the Mexicans go back to school--makes sense. I await my Crispy
whole red snapper and Bobs cashew chicken. Both good but not brilliant. I'm not
I'm a fan of digging out the meat of a fish. Our Chillayan Chardonnay
wine is wonderfully inexpensive: 255p.
(Less than $15). Of course the instant we leave it starts to rain. Fortunately
most of the way back is under eaves--but 5 minutes earlier . . .
Mikey's frittatas are terrific for breakfast. There in
the lobby as we start in our walk to FIT gym is Stanley telling Sam the manager
about a naked bath in New Mexico. E pretend to Sams amusement o be shocked and
invite Stanley to join us on our trek to the gym where it's Fernando, dressed
In remarkable ugly red tights that do manage to accentuate his enormous
buttocks, taking the class rather than
Georgio much to Stanley's distress. (Stanley wonders what kind of toilet seat
can accommodate that derrière to Elika's and Bob's amusement).
A lad bucking the waves. Does the effort make him even
more beautiful. We are at Mantamar (planned provocative name?) where we have an
elite experience on Wednesday when Ritmos--"Green Chairs"--the
neighboring less elite beach is closed.
Enrique is our beach server but we choose to have our lunch in the giant Palapa alongside the beach--view of the poolside skinny gay boys drink in one hand ciggy in the other moving to the insistent disco beat. I have the glorious gin and tonic especiale, Bob the light beer, steak wrap (me), club sandwich again for Bob. All indeed just right. We won't mention the lovely fries.
It's been a busy morning. I'm pleased that a morning swim
at 8 am in the ocean is a suitable prototype for next year's schedule. Very
pleasant--no speedboats or other swimmers for that matter. So to Blue Chairs
and back with an occasional hallucinogenic float thrown in. Shower and then to
Fit for our last sentimental workout--noticing Fernando has a TX class. Then to
the cuale shops for a large (it will shrink says the wily shopkeeper) black
t-shirt proclaiming "Be calm. You are on the fun side of the wall--Puerto
Vallarta" which prompts the shopkeeper to declaim against "piece of
shit" Trump. "Si." "250 pesos". $14.25 in Trumpland.
At least it's "Fabrique au Mexique". Some cheese at Mikey's and wine at the
mini-market for tonight's company.
Can dessert be far behind? Jesus says it's our specialty. I choose the "combination of Austrian apple pastry and "sacher" and Bob the"Copa Maximilian, vanilla and pecan ice cream, pecan My Mexican brandy hits the spot. OMG. We consult with Jesus about when KM will open next year (probably July the 18th when "the Kaiser" an Austrian native who will be visiting his homeland will be back in PV) and declare we will make our trip reservations accordingly. And are we really joking?
And a nappy in The now-cool bedroom is absolutely in
order.
Before that we have breakfast at Coco's this time sitting
In the outdoor plaza. It's crowded today, especially with a table of 20 ladies/-so
the food takes its time. Our gay waiter is moderately Apologetic. Bob. Potato
pancakes and bacon. Reuel papaya juice and a half order of potato pancakes and
the American (ham and cheese) omelette-used to be called the Gringo omelette
but pc no doubt intervened. Woman at another table keeps complementing me on my
"style"--the colorful shirt, the colorful watch. Earlier Stanley
allowed that I like color. A given.
FRIDAY JUNE 30.
 |
Here in the Alaska Air waiting area--no lounge in Terminal 1 like the terrific one in Terminal 2 that makes flying an almost pleasant experience. Our Uber driver,an interesting chap originally from Egypt (which he says we can indeed visit; I just haven't found any tours that will take us) tells us it's much easier these days to fly from Tijuana--nah.
Easy time through security. Not shoeless cause old and have TSA pass. Alaska's telling us they'll give us 500 bucks and a free trip to Hawaii if we don't get on the plane. Tempting. Hope they don't drag us off.
Why are so many people going to PV in July? It's hot and rainy. Why are we? Because . . . We can. (Hope the experience will provide a better excuse.) Actually I've planned not to write much of a blog post since we've been to PV so often--same condo and all. But I screwed up the last blog with its great photos and fascinating and all-encompassing (ahem) narrative by deleting photos and diminishing type in the draft to copy fewer than the 60 or so pages (!) for a reference to the restaurants we like and so on but it got re-published that way--so I'll Need (need?) to make some notes and take some pics on this trip--meant to be a relaxing one where I can work on my newest play (a full length version of The Gift) between swims while Bob tries to avoid the sun as he takes cover under a palapa. Time to cue up.
Girl in seat in front does not shut up for one second--remarkable breath control. We decide to break our liquor fast (5 weeks without a drop! Because of marginally successful nutrisystems diet. Actually lost 12.5 pounds. Now weigh 154 (still too heavy). Chardonnays for 2 please.
Looking forward to packing it back on in PV tacoville.
We've got this getting into PV thing down. Taxi is about 20 bucks and tip the driver 100 pesos cause he helps (thank god) with our 50 pound bags.) Yes! I can write my play and blog at the same time--chewing gum etc. A bassoon improbably is playing in the near distance from my balcony perch over the beach. What's that about? We're here! Lupita at the reception desk loves us. Well maybe likes a little. She remembers us, saying "it's been 3 years." Right. "Everything the same. " Pretty much. Yea.Sitting with our martinis and I inventive traveler fashion a toothpick for the olives we thought to pack out of a paper clip. What's that insistently playing? Bob insists it's a faugel horn not a bassoon. Ok. It's still wonderfully silly, incongruous and just right for martinis on our balcony. Yea.
OMG. This is wonderful!
It's Alessandro at Bohemios. Our first night hangout for supper Year after year. Mango margaritas. 2 for 3 dollars. Lentil soup (very acceptable) comes with our Fabuloso Fajitas dinners.
I say we never regarded Bohemio as haute cuisine. Bob. "But it's good for what it is. Home cooking somebody's mother would make." (Not either of our mamacitas.)
A couple of glasses of cab. Ok. Tastes red. Across the street is a place called Barbers and Booze. What could be more perfect. Gotta send this to Rick, owner of my haute hair emporium. He loves PV in his way as everyone does in their way.
We talk of anticipated travels not up to our dreams of them. I say we let fall the raiment of our expecting on the floor behind us. (Booze talk.)
Bob says very satisfying dinner--didn't eat the rice. Ok. When we leave there is a downpour--of course. Can sleep be far behind? We're already on Vallarta time.
SATURDAY JULY 1.
Welcome to July. And a dandy welcome for us it is. Imagine--sleeping whole night through. Tip: next time bring even more extension cords and charger cables for the many indoor and outdoor charging opportunities here.
Good for Olivia DeHaviland at 101 suing FX for unauthorized use of her identity. Sweet Melanie is a bitch! I should be as feisty at that age (hmm.) Ruminations on our balcony quaffing brewed tea (me) and instant coffee (him).
At 6's and 7's by 10:30 am. In betwixt time for dining and one or both of us will get irritable so decide to have protein bars to fend off that option--perhaps.
Long line at the exchange Machines and we require almost humiliatingly the services of others to change the direction language from Spanish to English. Let's try the Saturday farmers market and get some provisions so we won't face dreaded breakfast-time hunger again. CLOSED and abandoned forever. So we hobble (BOB's hip affliction presumably incurred at the gym--is really causing him pain) over to Mikey's and spend almost $60 . . . On delightful foods.
And the same amount for four bottles of wine at the bodega stocked with liquor, stopping for Bob to rest at various benches along the way back home.
12:45 we're at Dacquiri Dicks where our waiter CARLOS speaks great English. Jesus does bus. Oscar he says works only evenings so I guess we won't see him. I note that this isn't a place visited by nationals. "It's for people like us--upscale old people". On target.
We enjoy our salads. My Asian salad quite good though I'm wary of the lettuce--"die is cast anyway if it's not well washed." Bobs Caesar salad's carne is not stringy--since I asked. "Muy excellente." Interesting character very gregarious disabled fat guy wheeled in knows everybody on staff, very positive, vocal. I admire people like that--first of all singles who manage singly never mind disabledy.We almost forget that we're supposed to ask for the check--reminded when Bob says they're not interested in turning tables. The bill comes to 780p plus 150 cash tip=$57.
It's close to 3 and no sign of the rain Bob promised "at 3" so I will go swimming "with the Mexicans" though they don't swim, just stand around and socialize pretty much. The good news is that there's now a wooden walkway to the beach past the Eldorado restaurant below us which means that this year I don't need to walk through catshit deposited by the downstairs lady's cats. The water is bathtub warm which is most suitable indeed and I swim a little way North toward the pier--not too close lest I be decapitated by a speedboat and more of the way South close to the famed Blue Chairs gay resort. I take pleasure in watching a dad place his tiny son on a surfboard to the child's delight then horror when he realizes he'll be out on his own--a metaphor there. When I return and rinse off, Bobs out on the balcony reading a Ruth Rendall novel "The Vault" when I return.
Big martinis finally get us off the balcony and dipping into our new cheese, a delicious sharp cheddar. Then the conundrum of the tv. There's something Called Idiom that translates back into English from the translated Espanol. Finally find the channel that gives us Jeopardy (we can't keep up--must settle into accepting old age) then Wheel of Fortune--Vanna White is anti-feminist with grace (find those letters honey)which makes her a favorite with Trumpian middle American ladies, I opine stuffily. That's the kind of talk that supposedly lost the Demos the election/s.
Now that we're drunk--hey it's a bottle of red. In our colloquial I come up with the phrase out of century experience--was in context.
Screw the weather report. We'll actually see the sunset today. Where's the f...ing rain? Ha!
SUNDAY JULY 2.
Another good long night of sleep for both of us interrupted for me only by the creaking of the living room fan and the necessary bathroom break. A dream of buying a new Buick which I can't find after purchase. Meaning? Not your father's Buick? Before Bob rises (having as usual gone to bed later) I've had toast slices (from our "expensive but good" batard as Bob describes it--isn't that so for everything at Mikey's deli but what the hell) one with melted cheese, the other peanut butter accompanied by brewed tea in a glass Russky style. A satisfying breakfast. This repast while the only mildly interesting Sunday shows drone on in the living room had on the balcony now overlooking little fishing boats some manned by fishermen, most by pelicans all hopeful that the now placid ocean will yield up food.
I find Face the Nation which will have to do for a Sunday news fix because soon the wrong buttons are being pressed (note passive construction) and a wall of Spanish noise invades. Bob showered and getting ready (unlike moi) announces that if we're going to the River Cafe, brunch closes at 1:30 and it's a 13 minute walk (TMI!).
Love River Cafe--the slightly better situated but more expensive Oscars is always empty. What drug kingpin keeps it alive? Buffet. Daniel waiter I recognize. He asks do you watch porn? Yes. That's how you know me. Ta da. GReat seating in a tented area over the cuale. I think it's a kind of Gringo gulch. Obligatory iguanas climbing the trees. All the selections are excellent. A couple of chards each and the total is $54. Were not cheap dates. Meet a charming voluble lady there from Houston Texas staying 6 weeks. Keisha?
On the way back-necessary stops for still-ailing Bob, I climb Blu MASSAGE's steps to reserve 2 massages for us tomorrow at 4. Me with my bad neck. Bob with his bad leg. I promise many more.
I get to swim among the Mexicans and bob along with the fat men at Blue Chairs. I'm an anomaly this funny old guy swimming, actually swimming with goggles as the only one On The beach swimming, the entire beach. A guy I think I recognize from some years past as I hobble out of the waves with my googles smiles at me--does he perceive me as a decrepit old guy or is he just taking pleasure. Bob has a lovely Mikey's meal ready with my Martini then wine. We converse. It's deep content and it passes as the breezes over the Mexican ocean.
MONDAY JULY 3.
Tomorrow will be July 4th and we will display our patriotism by showing our support for our good neighbor Mexico having traversed over the real or imagined Wall. |
| PILL HEAVEN |
After trudging with our bags along the beach, Lupita at the condo tells us the electricity will be turned off for five minutes. I pretend to be enraged and tell her I won't stand for it but alas she doesn't fall for my ruse. "We'll live" I say. But it's hot out and more than five minutes might be a problem.
Can lunch be far behind? It's a beach day (what isn't) and it's off to Ritmos Beach, our favorite, despite guys along the way trying to sell us on the neighboring time-share beach. Front row seating (I.e. Oceanfront) since it's a weekday. Norbert takes our order for 2 Tecate lights and 2 steak quesadillas 350 pesos with tip--under $20--despite my warning in the last Mexico blog that one steak quesadilla is enough for sharing. Looks like we'll take home one rather warm order and hope we don't die of some terrible stomach ailment. I get to swim in the untreacherous warm water (is it that July is better than June for the ocean--we'll see) before and after food service. Working on the play is difficult with the blaring of disco style music from both Ritmos and it's neighbor. We've actually got a dj it turns out. Back well before three to take showers before the next event, our massages at Blu Massage.
Our partner massage therapists are both excellent--mine, Raoul an older guy, has strong hands though I don't think he's done much for my pesky neck pain. 2 massages for 1000 pesos plus 150 p each for a tip.
TUESDAY JULY 4.
How will this day be different than all other days with the obvious exception that it's July 4th--notably uncelebrated in Mexico.
I watch iTunes videos of Glide classes which are scheduled for 9 at Fit and decide it's too treacherous for an aging fall guy like me. A trip to Fit un-class-ified however for a desultory workout where we get to watch the brawny personal trainers show assorted elderly but fit gay men how it's done.
On our return, Bob makes tuna fish Sandwiches which we have with Greek salad and wine on the balcony--not on the beach but over the beach today.
For $5.55 including a 30% tip, we get two Tecate Lights, ocean front seating and a delightful afternoon--at least Reuel gets to swim a couple of times. Strangely as the afternoon rolls on the beach gets more crowded. And our timing is perfect. We leave as the sky is darkening before three and by 3:45 we're on our balcony watching a drenching rain afflict the coastline (and knock out our dish tv service). Love the sound and the look of the real spectacle in front of us. And, slut and fool for atmospherics that I am, I stir up 2 martinis even though it's only 4 pm.
This day July 4. North Korea aims an intergalactic missile at us--can reach Alaska. Do we want Trump to deal with this? And item two on the 4th. His admin wants personal info on us voters-/thank god for the vestiges of democracy that 44 states say no way Jose. But of the others? Can there be this amount of erosion in our democracy? I'm scared. I'm angry. I'm scared.
Chardonnay at 6. And Bob fiddles in the kitchen. What of Mikey's specialties will emerge?perfection. And our wine is a 2016. What could be better?
WEDNESDAY JUL5.
Reuel makes himself another big breakfast with a perfect egg frittata (just add cheese sliced, butter and milk) with salmon toast and cottage cheese. Need energy which will be required for Giovanni's Latin dance class. The guy's one of the best yet. He's charming and has flair. I'm exhausted. Get to pal around with tall blonde lady who says she's from Holland (sounds American to me) and Mono, plump former criminal attorney in San Francisco with her husband both of whom moved here and have "a political show" here.
On beach I'm going to try a massage. 400 p. Santiago. (I'll give him 500.) We've seen him for years. His is not a gentle massage but he's got a lot of knots to unravel with me.
It turns out that out that our usual beach spot, Ritmos, is closed on Wednesdays--thanks for not telling us. So our search begins. Next door at Altamar charges 200p per person as "rent" plus a 250p minimum. We've had lunch so that's not an option. Blue Chairs has quarters too close and is full. Finally we settle on Sapphire which has the rent fee but no minimum. Their free bottled colored water will have to do.
Why is that man holding a giant balloon that says "Luis and Xavier Together Forever"? Straining against the chords that hold it up he stands there forever.
The water is so calm that I can float on it.
Bob refuses to leave until 4 pm. I guess he wants his money's worth. Home to finish the last of our vodka with a supper Bob rustles up.
THURSDAY JULY 6
Of course at 11:24 since we're the only guys on the beach the vendors are particularly insistent, incredulous we have a no gracias interest in their cigars or weed. Finally 11:25 another couple.
Another swim while our bloody Mary's arrive. And they are yum yum. We'll have another young Gencel (pronounced Kensel) while awaiting our order of chicken quesadillas to share.
Note that the best body on the beach guy of 3 years ago now has with his more Hispanic looking husband two adorable Anglo-appearing children. How shall I write this story?
12:35 the Latin disco music starts. Oh well.
Some writing. More swims. $27.58 for a lovely afternoon. And back home by 3, in time to . . . Nap.
FRIDAY JULY 7
Damn those bloodies are good. And here comes our steak quesadillas (to share). I've already had my first swim. Life's good. Had a good Zumba workout with Fernando earlier. He's funny. Has this sort of butch affect--just indicates a step and then retires until the next combination comes up. Has his little coterie of mexgirls. There was the very pleasant Dutch woman, Alika (?) and lo and behold Bob gives it a whirl--and enjoys it. Yea. Then we are released into the world to spend rather extravagantly at Mikey's deli (Bob is an addict) and at the liquor store--we are officially out of the vodka we brought. Guess 3 Rum Runner containers are a week's worth. (And who's the addict?)
First time the sea has gotten a little rough. Still offers a pleasant experience.
The "how many, how many" lady of years past has worked herself from vendor of chochkas to a masseuse and pedicurist of the beach.
Quick swim before we leave at 3. Got to get ready for our 4 pm massage. Responsibilities! Shower and this time it's Long haired Omar (for me) and Gabriel for Bob--our couples massage, only 1000 pesos for both of us. We splurge on 150p tips each. And make another appointment for
next Friday. They are both excellent masseurs, Bob saying Gabriel was even better than his last masseur.
Shower and we're ready for our close ups at . . . Garbo's at 6:30. Lovely chatting with German, the proprietor. It's as if we never left. There was some refurbishment since we left--German can't believe it's been three years. He's gotten into real estate sales--inevitable Since he's an entrepreneur superior and an attorney.
Stagger around the corner to Bohemios. Our guy--the only guy Saul (in Palm Springs) leaves for his summer customers--announced that a couple (only couple there) have our table. We've got our choice of all the others. We have the most expensive items on the menu--my seafood paella (needs spicing but it's all there) is $9, Bobs sizzling platter is $7 and a bottle of red from Chile is $13.50. Such a deal. And I get a doggy bag for my dish. (Will we really eat all the food piling up in our fridge--Mikey's and doggies?)
Stop off at Oxxo for Red Devil chocolate popsicles which are incredibly good. Nice bit of sweet topping off a sweet day.
SATURDAY JULY 8.
TV is all about the end of the G20 summit. Great violence there in Hamburg. Don't these people like government leaders meeting, some--not all--having productive conversations? What's the harm? Most leaders stabbing at Trumps refusal to join the Paris Accord. We are so f-ing doomed.
It's gym or a long walk and very long walk had it. After all it's a relatively pleasant day (we're lucking out thus far). First to the fabulous glass place where we once bought lots of swizzle sticks to give as gifts but kept them for ourselves anyway--the way god intended. This time I find a curious snow globe for our international snow globe collection (given pride of place in our hallway niche and of untold value). Though we have a PV one, this item sports palm trees with diamonds (pronounced Dye-munds). Who could dast pass up?
We pass Gaby's restaurant just beyond the great PV church with its almost silly-/if I were a religious man--crown headpiece--tourists cramming in--but at 11:30 it's too early for lunch. Locals are having breakfast there. There's more beautiful malacon to walk and avoid the Cuban cigar and tequila hucksters: "Amigos! " To find the big old supermarket and search for BOB's coffee and peanut butter-I appalled to find he packed a bottle now defunct--the guy tips the old lady packer--classy guy. Really.
Somehow we manage to get back home--to nap--for hours! The ricea is already making us healthy. (Oops. Just sneezed loudly and the mechanical bird in a cage in the living room loft starts pchirping. An amazing, if annoying, artifact that we suppose, a fixture all the years we've been coming here, adds to the fey charm of the place.) I get up, find Bob on the balcony manipulating his iPhone and I send an email to the president of the company that purloined ten years ago millions (gasp) from us on a West Sacramento apartment project. I ask if it will finally, please mammon, be sold. We'll see. Maybe we'll buy a condo here in PV among other bizarre projections of still unrealized gain.
Looks like we're in for the evening. Bobs got his Chardonnay, Reuel his martini. The chirping bird for the moment is silent. Bob has an understandably hard time distinguishing between me and the old guy Solly in my play--as do I . Solly can be offensive. Oops. Am I hiding in him?
Do you need to know how lovely a time we're having on our balcony--plash sound of waves-ok talk about who we are as old guys--what's fulfilling for each of us now--but that's subsumed under the alcohol and Bob's exit to rustle up some vittles.
SUNDAY JULY 9.
Peanut butter on toast is irresistible. I see now why it's Bob breakfast of choice.
We watch the pigeon of the eaves systematically deconstructing the roof of the palapa below and then watch it fly back up to create its nest. Bob wonders if will see its babies before we leave this enchanted isle. All that determination, that effort to propagate the species. I break away from watching the glacially moving movie about Keats and Franny Braun, BRIGHT STAR, to watch the pigeon lose its (is it the father or the mother?) footing on the steep incline and struggle at its dutiful task.
I leave to take a shower and Keats is still dying, Fanny mourning. A Jane Campion film, wonderfully acted, Ben Wishaw as Keats (we saw him as John Proctor in Miller's The Crucible on Broadway a few years ago).At beachside La Palapa downstairs from our condo. Bob: Here the ladies have hooks for their purses. I note that River Cafe offered the same amenity. I say "it's a better culture. And they don't have Trump," which puts me in an instantaneously bad mood. Our server suggests a locally brewed beer Vida Latina, amber colored, pleading aroma and quite tasty. My seafood enchilada is muy delicioso though I should not have tried the pepper embedded in the accompanying rice paddy.
 |
| LIFE ON THE UNDERSIDE |
Nappy. So we are playful after our entirely full martinis of the reprehensible Sky vodka (next time plunk down the extra pesos for the Usual) and we play improv word games and feel clever even if tipsy tips the scales.
I'm only mildly despondent that the play I'n writing is unworthy. I'm collecting anecdotal pieces from the news about recent intolerance in America and violence thereof. An Indian doctor moving to middle America who must--fearfully after the election--explain Islam, a widow of a murdered Muslim man and so on must be the next play. It needs to be . . . Said! But for now I must finish/edit the present one about the gap between an old queen, a young transgender and the people around them living and dead.
Bob is in charge of rustling a little something up. The noises that result from our tiny kitchen are comforting
.TUESDAY JULY 11.
What a treat for Bob. I get to make him toast and eggs. And he likee.
FIT is a trip this morning. There's muscley laconic Fernando who gives me a big smile (Bob says he's showing evidence of being human). Some aggressive American guy being strange with Mexican muscle guys. What's going on there? It's the weight machines for us.
After a delightful comparatively small (albeit telling) martini at home, Bohemio's offers a cordon blue special with that bottle of wine for $13 or $14, a $2 markup we noted in the big market where we discovered Alessandro the manager/server shops--not gonna find that anywhere else in the world. Lentil soup comes with. Always a good choice. Then a popsicle at Ozzo.
It's not MSNBC but CNN is ok and the conversation is all about D. Trump Jr. and his meeting with a Russian operative. Heady stuff. What next? Dan Rather: "This is Shakespearian in tragic terms for the country. . . . We've never had a presidency that disintegrated this fast . . . One of the great scandals of American history. . . . We need to know the facts. . . . What else are they hiding?"
WEDNESDAY JULY 12
It's glorious Wednesday when we have the fabulous Georgio for Latin dance class (not to be confused with Zumba or Fernando's) class. I wear my special Zumba pantaloons, matching shirt, socks and watch which Bob insists no one will notice. Wrong. Alika, our Dutch Canadian friend, comments as I do about her gold lame outfit. Georgio gives us what I call "off-off-Broadway" class routines requiring great finishes--curtsie, bows, flamingo poses. Bob enjoys it. Yea.But we must get back to demand pride of place at beach side Mantamar (or whatever it's called) Beach Club at 215p each just for the privilege of luxe divans and towels. Against our 250p minimum (no problem there) we have Cadillac margaritas (Bob loves 'em and has three!) a club sandwich (Bob) and a cheeseburger (Reuel). Alas the fries are good.
I come in from my 2nd swim only to discover Bob has finally succumbed to the complete sybaritic life and is having his feet massaged by a nice looking young man, Ivan, whose brother soon joins us--not to massage but to rest until they go off to their next clients. It is indeed a good experience--I have one too. (1000p with tip.) When a server comes over to give us some more shade I whisper to Bob that we've achieved the good life.
Which continues when we've showered at home and settle into martinis with a not bad Polish vodka.
THURSDAY JULY 13.
From our balcony we listen to the waves pounding the shore (does rougher water await today?), hear the insistent coos of either mother or babies in the eaves above, and watch a black bird perched atop a palapa below struggle with its food. Less struggle with our toast topped with either that creamy pepper cheese or peanut butter.
And then inside to watch the pomp of Trump's reception in Paris for Bastille Day. Verdict: he's happy to get out of Washington and the cauldron where his first son and his presidency is boiling. And Macron is one smart French cruller.
We're delighted although surprised that Stanley and his sig. other Reuben actually show up at 5:15. Stanley rents a 2 bedroom here (which means--condo rules--that there's no air conditioner in the living room). Stanley is a stitch. Turns out he barely speaks Spanish and Reuben, at 47 is 32 years Stanley's junior, doesn't speak English. He is one of 18 siblings--"number 10". Stanley bought Rueben an apartment in a Mexican community--"not my style"--for $22,000 but Rueben would like a house. Stanley is hysterical describing the neighborhood of an available lot Rueben likes. Very companionable guys. After they leave we're in no mood to go out so the last of our pizza does nicely. and a nice pate. For supper with Anderson Cooper, who is outraged at the White House lies about jr. Bob rustles up meatloaf, veggies and portobello mushroom courtesy of course of the blessed Mikey.FRIDAY JULY 14-
Well here's a bit of gossip. After muscle guy butch Fernando does a most suggestive dance step in the genre of a female stripper, I wonder if he isn't in fact a stripper. And that's when Alika confides that she's heard he is. I ask where. Anthropologie--which is pretty down and dirty. We both agree a guy's got to make a living.
Afterward when we're bringing our bottles of merlot and cab to the clerk she asks "No vodka today?" We're getting a rep here.
Beach. Paradise. Few swims. Couple of bloodies. Breaded chicken strips for Bob. "Delicious." Fajitas and steak Reuel. Nice.
Home in time to shower for our massages at 4 with Gabriel (Bob) and Omar (Reuel). Bob loves Gabriel's ministrations, Reuel less enamored with Omar. Nevertheless I make a reservation for next Thursday.
Trading messages with Sheryl about a charitable remainder trust.
It's French onion soup today's special for us exclusively apparently since we're once again Alessandro's only customers at Cafe Bohemio. We've actually walked through the rain to get here. It's Friday night and we can't stay at home. The soup as always is unspiced. "Basic cooking" reminds Bob. The chef and his sous chef from next door are sitting reading their I-phones. At least we're giving someone business. Bob has chille Reyeno. "If my mother could have made it, this is exactly how she would have made it. . . . The most charitable thing that can be said about Cafe Bohemia is that they have a shitty Mexican cook." "We love it." I've got the ever-popular shrimp dish and it's not bad at all. There's a breaded pineapple flavored shrimp and a sort of pork chop shrimp. (Gotta be there.)
Lovely at this time walking along the malecon, watching with everybody the gorgeous sunset. And the breeze keeps the temperature just fine thank you. We pass Alika and her friends having dinner at the beachside restaurant next to La Palapa. She calls out to us and we mine Zumba dancing. Fun. We're connected. And there are Stanley and Ruben sitting in the lobby of our condo building El Dorado. Connections.
SATURDAY JULY 15
It's Saturday so everything will move a little slower. I take my time making eggs with toast and a side of salmon. Then off to the gym just before our maid, Charlie, is about to enter and make everything right.
At the glass factory, wonderful place, where this time we actually buy: A lovely hand blown drinking glass for Don in a swirl of colors; 2 hand painted martini glasses for our odd collection, and beautiful long glass teardrops for BOB's study window.
DacquiriDicks on the way back we order just off the terrace (our usual location where we gratefully catch the ocean breezes) chardonnays, pulled pork sandwich for Bob, fish tacos for Reuel. Next time (next year?) order the bottle. We're not the only customers. There's a lone guy as well. Blockbuster business in old Vallarta--Not. Bob: "I love this place. I really do. Always a treat to eat here." This as we are about to order a (delicious) key lime pie and a few wealthy nationals come in.
Back at 1:45, I say "moment of truth; what's it to be for the rest of the afternoon?" Bob. "As little as possible" and promises he'll go to the beach tomorrow." As he lies on the sofa, "such a hard day we had, plowed the back forty, killed a pig, harvested the grapes of wrath . . . Zzzz."
Gotta get ready for our visit to Stanley and Ruben upstairs. There's the scary ride in the tiny elevator to the 4th floor of the front building. Stanley's condo (which he rents 5 months a year) is actually quite charming, painted in cheery colors, 2 bedrooms 2 baths, the master with a pano view as of course from the balcony where we'll later sit. lLarger kitchen than ours but no air conditioning in the living room. Wine and nibbles. I especially like the chopped liver Stanley buys at a little deli. Stanley as always is a stitch. After we reveal story about Fernando (whom Ruben seems to know) we learn that our friend German, owner of classy Garbo's, also owns the naked strippers club and that the massage parlors across the street all do "happy endings" and attempt to roll their customers. Also about Stanley's alcoholic friend from NYC visiting who caused mayhem by bringing an underage boy to the El Dorado condos and going off the wagon. Good dish. Anyway by the time we're back home we decide we won't go out for dinner as we initially planned; some wine and Mikey's will do just fine.
SUNDAY JULY 16.
It's Saturday so everything will move a little slower. I take my time making eggs with toast and a side of salmon. Then off to the gym just before our maid, Charlie, is about to enter and make everything right.
At the glass factory, wonderful place, where this time we actually buy: A lovely hand blown drinking glass for Don in a swirl of colors; 2 hand painted martini glasses for our odd collection, and beautiful long glass teardrops for BOB's study window.
DacquiriDicks on the way back we order just off the terrace (our usual location where we gratefully catch the ocean breezes) chardonnays, pulled pork sandwich for Bob, fish tacos for Reuel. Next time (next year?) order the bottle. We're not the only customers. There's a lone guy as well. Blockbuster business in old Vallarta--Not. Bob: "I love this place. I really do. Always a treat to eat here." This as we are about to order a (delicious) key lime pie and a few wealthy nationals come in.
Back at 1:45, I say "moment of truth; what's it to be for the rest of the afternoon?" Bob. "As little as possible" and promises he'll go to the beach tomorrow." As he lies on the sofa, "such a hard day we had, plowed the back forty, killed a pig, harvested the grapes of wrath . . . Zzzz."
Gotta get ready for our visit to Stanley and Ruben upstairs. There's the scary ride in the tiny elevator to the 4th floor of the front building. Stanley's condo (which he rents 5 months a year) is actually quite charming, painted in cheery colors, 2 bedrooms 2 baths, the master with a pano view as of course from the balcony where we'll later sit. lLarger kitchen than ours but no air conditioning in the living room. Wine and nibbles. I especially like the chopped liver Stanley buys at a little deli. Stanley as always is a stitch. After we reveal story about Fernando (whom Ruben seems to know) we learn that our friend German, owner of classy Garbo's, also owns the naked strippers club and that the massage parlors across the street all do "happy endings" and attempt to roll their customers. Also about Stanley's alcoholic friend from NYC visiting who caused mayhem by bringing an underage boy to the El Dorado condos and going off the wagon. Good dish. Anyway by the time we're back home we decide we won't go out for dinner as we initially planned; some wine and Mikey's will do just fine.
SUNDAY JULY 16.
So it's breakfast time and Bob says "Shouldn't we have a little toast?" I say "L,chaim!" (I've been waiting years for the opportunity to make that joke . . . Any thing's possible in Vallarta.)
When I wake up it's three and rather late for a trek to Green Chairs so I make my way down to the beach below for a swim and float in the waters crowded mostly with Mexicans. Then it's Bob's turn for a nap. We won't have cocktails until 6--such restraint.
But then the rains came. A deluge. Guess we're in for the evening.
MONDAY JULY 17.
Just toast and tea/coffee is a wonderful breakfast. We're
in for a pleasant surprise at Fit when Fernando is a no-show and Georgio comes
in. Elika introduces us to BARBARA a trim expat living here. And I overhear
that Fernando is suffering from the loss of "the love of his life" a
fellow Zumba instructor-/aha-/ and they opine he has no energy to come in. I
say it's because he's dancing late at Anthropologie--laughter--and applaud
Elika on her good "dish".
Mario at the beach gets the right instruction this time
that it's steak quesadillas we will share with our bloodies. Though I've left
behind my goggles (dummy) I still go for dips in the lovely sea--a bit of eye
salt burn must be endured from underwater forays. And we're back to nap and
shower for 6:15 appearance at Garbo's. Belvedere vodka martinis German thank
you. Before . . .
Balcony to visit sunset and listen to guitar music from
El Dorado below and above are the now hatched chicks--all received with pleasure and
a glass of red.
I make terrific eggs for both of us this AM despite
difficulties lighting the stove--nothing's worthwhile without a whole lotta
trouble--as my new play's character Rosie would say.
Today is treadmill and weights day at the gym. We notice
that Fernando is back being more or less a personal trainer. I guess he's getting over losing "the
love of his life".
As it approaches 1 we decide lunch is in order--look up
Joe's Fish Shack menu. It's a go. Just up the block on temporary quarters while
they renovate. Bottle of
"decent" blend of cab--Syrah/-Tempranillo. Not crowded the way it
would've in high season. But who do you have to kill to get your food here? My
filet of fish sandwich and Bob's cheeseburger which he has uncharacteristic
ally well done for fear it will otherwise be a mess. Both ok.
Home to relax/nap and then rather than swim at the beach
downstairs (me) Bob suggests a walk on the malecon--always a good idea--except
that we experience a downpour midway through about 4:30--earlier than usual for
such a phenom. Run Don't walk back.
What to do around 6 when it's clear out and clear there's
no vodka in the fridge. Off we go to Street Bar, Pto. Vallarta's new Palm
Springs cousin. There we are on the patio rather exclusively--at least 2
Belvedere's are 200p (not the 290 of German's Garbo's) but not all that much
point. Certainly no sociability. To be found.
Then Oxxo's offers a 2-fer pizza for about
$2.70--irresistible deal for the evening's repast. Oh god we love our Oxxo pizza.
And the topping is pepperoni And watching a panel on
Anderson Cooper (we disastrously don't get MSNBC) discussing Trump Russian
meeting horrors--pretty satisfying. And my lovely Charles Blow putting it to
the man. But does it, will it finally, matter? Red sales in the sunset; Charles
Blow on TV. Competing interests. Sunset patio; air conditioned TV Room? Blow
wins. Though I'm aware the sunset is gorgeous.
WEDNESDAY JULY 19.
Enrique is our beach server but we choose to have our lunch in the giant Palapa alongside the beach--view of the poolside skinny gay boys drink in one hand ciggy in the other moving to the insistent disco beat. I have the glorious gin and tonic especiale, Bob the light beer, steak wrap (me), club sandwich again for Bob. All indeed just right. We won't mention the lovely fries.
I've had my swim. Ivan is back and this moment is
massaging Bob. I've ordered another round of drinks from Enrique. How sad our
lives are. Dissolute. Unrepentant. And so forth. Ha ha. My iPhone translator
tells me that's "ja ja". My turn to be massaged. Ivan does not stop
smiling. I guess, behind the novel I'm reading, I am too.
Feeling very content--is that a sin for a Jew?
Ivan's massage is even better than before. Poor guy
insists we'll see him tomorrow but we've got appointments at Blu Massage.
One more swim and we're outta here--won't see Mantamar
BeachClub until next year. Home feeling totally relaxed as the tuba tubas away
in the beachy distance.
THURSDAY JULY 20.
Sitting here now without air, without internet--this
apparently happens every once in a while. The electricity goes out. That
explains why the Oxxo on the corner is closed and there is no boom boom of
music from the restaurants below and why Sam, the manager, and Maxine, the
downstairs caged condo lady who writes the English newspaper (Bandaras
News) all day were sitting in the lobby
admonishing all who enter not to lick the door behind. All we can do in the diminishing
cool/increasing heat is read the flyer menu picked up from Kaiser Maximillian
announcing its half price specials now that it has reopened and where
consequently we intend to go shortly.
A
t KM the atmosphere is very old world and pleasant
contrast to everything else.
We vaguely remember dining here with Danny and
Brian years ago. Our server, Jesus, has been here 13 years. I say, "yes I
remember you standing right there." He laughs and says patting his stomach
but not so big. I order veal scallopini, Bob the short ribs. We really like the
wine. At one table an elderly American guy seems really pleased to be with his
young good looking Mexican companion. Why not? And this being the pumpernickel
capital of Mexico the bread is just right. :) actually we determine that this
is the best meal we've had in PV this go-round.
We vaguely remember dining here with Danny and
Brian years ago. Our server, Jesus, has been here 13 years. I say, "yes I
remember you standing right there." He laughs and says patting his stomach
but not so big. I order veal scallopini, Bob the short ribs. We really like the
wine. At one table an elderly American guy seems really pleased to be with his
young good looking Mexican companion. Why not? And this being the pumpernickel
capital of Mexico the bread is just right. :) actually we determine that this
is the best meal we've had in PV this go-round.
Can dessert be far behind? Jesus says it's our specialty. I choose the "combination of Austrian apple pastry and "sacher" and Bob the"Copa Maximilian, vanilla and pecan ice cream, pecan My Mexican brandy hits the spot. OMG. We consult with Jesus about when KM will open next year (probably July the 18th when "the Kaiser" an Austrian native who will be visiting his homeland will be back in PV) and declare we will make our trip reservations accordingly. And are we really joking?
FRIDAY JULY 21.
So what happened. All of my text for today has been
erased. And all I'm left with is a sad little face. Mexican gremlins?
Here we sit in the last two seats of the misnamed VIP
Lounge at the airport. And it will not be the first--or last--time I've got to fill in precious (?) verbiage.
Crowded, not air conditioned and the wi-fi connection stinks but finally
find comfortable seating and are served some chardonnays. Bob declines
sandwiches and damnit so will I. Mostly
well-heeled Mexicans.
To recap. 8:15 R swims and floats in the bay below to
blue Chairs and back 1/2 layer while Bob packs. Give Charly our
"maid" 1000 pesos. I've translated through the auspices of my iPhone
translator a note of thanks. Drop off the remaining two days on our gym pass
upstairs enduring the nasty claustrobia inducing elevator at Stanley's. He
calls to thank us--and we'll see him and Ruben in the lobby later as we leave
around 12:30. Cab ride is only 250p so that even though the driver has been
basically surly he gets a 100p tip.
Before that we have breakfast at Coco's this time sitting
In the outdoor plaza. It's crowded today, especially with a table of 20 ladies/-so
the food takes its time. Our gay waiter is moderately Apologetic. Bob. Potato
pancakes and bacon. Reuel papaya juice and a half order of potato pancakes and
the American (ham and cheese) omelette-used to be called the Gringo omelette
but pc no doubt intervened. Woman at another table keeps complementing me on my
"style"--the colorful shirt, the colorful watch. Earlier Stanley
allowed that I like color. A given.
We leave our lounge of alcohol and food possibilities not
completely realized only to discover that our flight has been retrastado which
translator says "delayed" --an hour in this case. Blech. And the
airport is frightening, teeming, remarkably uncomfortable seating, whine whine.
Board at 4:15. We've got the entire exit row to
ourselves. (I think I paid extra.) announcement that air conditioning needs
servicing but taxiing starts at 4:50. Aloft 4:58 but hot as hell for a while.
Well the flight attendant "tops off" our wine
to the tune of another glass of wine. I've decided I love Alaska Air. Landing. We've lived through another (wonderful) trip.
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