Puerta Vallarta
Everything about Puerto Vallarta is compact so it’s an ideal place to stay alone – 7km from the airport, a walk to the Old Town and the nearest supermarket. I suspect it’s not poor by Mexican standards, but the heat and humidity and afternoon downpours leave the cobbles slippy and a not so faint smell of hot sewage floating in the air. There are a few, but a lot less beggars than San Francisco and Los Angeles. The people are friendly and helpful and I am remembering a few words of Spanish and trying to learn more. Of course, I could be more sophisticated and use google translate, but I get by winging it.
On either side of the hotel complex are plots of land which are probably worth a fortune in real estate terms. The plot on the right is a swamp with giant green iguanas in who sunbathe on the pavement and slide into the water as you approach and the other side looks like a fenced gypsy encampment except there is only one family with a giant 4×4.
I took two trips away from the coast, one to the Botanical Garden and the other up in the mountains to San Sebastien, an old mining town that used to have 30,000 inhabitants and now has about 600. The countryside is lush and verdant with a vast cross section of trees and there are jaguars in there somewhere.
The hard sell is still there, but not quite as bad as Cancun.
A day trip from Cancun, Mexico – BORN 59 (hazeldurbridge.com) One of guides explained it as a way of bringing business into the hinterland and stopping so much migration north over the border. That made sense to me.
Both trips had a tequila production stop, a coffee stop and a food stop. Both restaurants served extremely good food. The second also had a jewellery stop.
The Botanical Gardens is like going in a Kew greenhouse without the glass and beautifully laid out. There are signs telling children to be quiet, but the adults are noisy, shrieking and laughing in attention seeking ways. There are huge butterflies everywhere, tortoises, swinging bridges and exotic flowers.
San Sebastien was quaint and cobbled and high up with quirky tourist shops – very different from the town scape which Is high rise and concrete with shopping malls they call shopping villages, but are anything but.
I haven’t met another British person yet. What few tourists there are, are American, some Canadian – friendly, ‘hey neighbour’ at the pool, but loud, some extraordinarily large and most on permanent holiday retirement. They are talking politics, heated politics – they talk more than they swim.
I am staying in a Sheriton complex which the locals think is super swish, but the timeshare is not the poshest I have been in with my American timeshare points, but it’s fine for me. I am on the 11th floor with a balcony I wouldn’t want to be on with children, but an amazing view over the Pacific Ocean.
I am not eating my main meal at the resort as the only restaurant open is a bit soul less cafeteria with few options beyond fast food style. I hope I am taking my money to the locals and eating a lot of fish even though my first attempt at asking for breaded fish ended up with breaded fish and a big pile of bread which I secreted for morning toast after a lengthy struggle to work out how the toaster worked.
I am treasuring these expeditions as I think they will be coming to an end. Next year, my holiday slots are already booked up to visit the children which will be lovely, but also require a lot of diplomacy. It is a different thing to pop in for a Sunday afternoon to descending on them for 2 weeks.
Finally, hats off to the sweet shop in Puerto Vallarta and the caramelised pecans – to die for.