Places – Page 3 – Pat the Expat

Death and its Day

We’re rapidly approaching November, and with it, the Catholic feasts of All Saints and All Souls, which are better known locally as Dia de Muertos. No doubt you’ve seen the iconic imagery of Mexican culture: catrinas, calaveras, ofrendas, family picnics in the cemetery featuring foods the dearly departed enjoyed while in this earthly life, and of course cempasuchil petals everywhere.

To the outsider, all this can appear a little, well, ghoulish. But it reflects a deep-seated Mexican (and Catholic) view of the world that I would suggest is something of a corrective to the one most Americans hold. Permit me to explain.

First off, let’s do away with the growing, anhistorical proposition that the practices of Dia de Muertos reflects ancient Mexica (you know them as Aztec) beliefs. This was first posited during the 1930s as part of the indigenismo movement, accentuating Mexica themes in local culture. The socialist government of Mexican President Lázaro Cárdenas promoted these efforts as a counterweight to the Catholic Church’s power. It’s true the “Aztecs” performed ancestor-worship and believed human remains, especially bones, had magic powers. They often built racks of skulls of those sacrificed to demonstrate their power. And they had not one, but eight solemn days of remembrance, including two full months. None of which coincided with Dia de Muertos. I hesitate to consider what an Azteca Dia de Muertos celebration might include, but all other such celebrations involved live human sacrifice!

An *ofrenda* (altar) with *pan de muerto*

What did coincide with the dates, as well as the parties, dances, costumes, altars, etc. were the Catholic feasts of All Saints and All Souls. You don’t need to be an anthropologist to understand this; just travel to any Catholic country in the Mediterranean (not the least, España!) and you’ll see many festivals directly mirroring what goes on in Mexico. I’ve witnessed this false history phenomenon many times: with respect to Easter, Christmas and its trees, even the Camino de Santiago. Yes, some pagans in antiquity walked to Finisterre, as it was known as land’s end (or the end of the world). That hardly makes the Camino Frances a pagan tradition. Anyway . . .

What does Dia de Muertos tell us about Mexican culture, and why do I think it’s a lesson worth learning? Dia de Muertos rejects the notion that the dead are gone. They may not be here, among us in ways we can see, but they are somewhere; they still exist. They enjoy watching us, they appreciate it when we remember them, they take comfort in our successes and feel sad in our sorrows. This is a deeply comforting notion, not the least of which when joined with the notion that someday we will be reunited.

You can never have too many Marigolds (*cempasuchil*)

None of this whitewashes the truth of the deceased’s lives. They are remembered, warts and all, in the hope they have made it to heaven and eternal joy. It is incumbent on Christian believers to hope in the resurrection of the just, even for the worst of all sinners, as that portends well for our own souls!

This emphasis on a hereafter could lead to a certain fatalism, and I have heard gringos opine as much about Mexican culture. It’s true that Mexicans can get less upset about things that would enrage most folks from NOB. If you believe this life is all there is, you will both fear death and try to seize every moment of the life you have. This might lead one to fight every injustice, be more charitable, and seek to be a positive change. It might also lead to constant competition, thrill-seeking, and a winner-take-all mentality. I’ll let my good friends decide which they think is more prevalent today in America.

Mexican culture clearly feels differently. They don’t fear death, as the candy skulls and skeletal face-painting clearly attest. No tragedy in the world is off-limits to Mexican jokes, as a simple search on the internet will show. I won’t give an example, just to avoid upsetting any of my friends, but it’s very Mexican to laugh at misfortune, even deadly misfortune. Mexicans didn’t invent the slogan “stuff happens” (safe-for-family version), but they certainly live by it. The catrinas you see today began as a nineteenth century literary tradition, where living famous people were given a short, rhymed poem announcing the clever or ironic way they died. Think of a corrupt politician whose safe full of ill-gotten gains falls on him, or a glutton who chokes on a large bite of sausage.

The concept of life and its aftermath pervades all aspects of Mexican culture. See the legions of roadside shrines, carefully maintained by families and road crews alike, attesting to the death of a pedestrian. Stroll among the families sharing time together at the cemetery, remembering past generations. Watch the faithful crawl on bloodied knees across the pavement outside the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City, praying for the repose of a loved one’s soul. It’s very real and very important to them.

Gringos ask things like, “Why don’t they do something to improve the safety of the pedestrian crossings?” “Why don’t they spend that money on educating their children instead of flowers for an ofrenda?” “Why do they still believe in such superstitions?” Hearing such things, most Mexicans would simply nod and smile, because by asking the questions, you show you don’t get it. There can be no answer, if you think this is all there is.

Mexicans, even those who no longer practice Catholicism, believe differently. And they live according to those beliefs. They are less acquisitive, less competitive (except with respect to futbol!), more likely to accept bad outcomes rather than rage at them. It’s not fatalism, because it doesn’t signify giving up, just accepting reality. What’s funny is, much of western therapeutic practice tells those who undergo trauma the first thing you have to do is learn to accept it. Mexican culture has that built-in: cheaper, quicker, happier.

While Disney has lately made a hash of its great tradition, I strongly recommend the animated movie “Coco” which even my Mexican friends cite as a fantastically good and true depiction of this aspect of Mexican culture. Warning: I’ve seen it about six times, and I have yet to get through the movie without tearing up. Just sayin’!

So before you go out and buy that Barbie & Ken-themed Halloween outfit, take a moment to remember those you might have forgotten. And for Dia de Muertos this year, pull Coco up and enjoy!

Thanks. Giving.

I know I’ve mentioned before my family’s peculiar habit of moving holidays to suit our needs. Thanksgiving is the big get-together for Judy and I, our kids, their spouses, and the grand-kids. Several years back, we tried moving our celebration of it up two weeks, to coincide with the Veterans’ Day Holiday in the States. It was magnificent! Not only did we have easy flights and easy time off from work, the weather was about the same. Of course once we broke through the notion that Thanksgiving had to be the fourth Thursday in November, inevitably it led to it being a truly movable feast.

This year, our daughter and family from Italy were coming back to the States for a wedding in October, so of course we moved Thanksgiving all the way up to then. Just so happens, Canada beat us to it: in case you didn’t know, Canada celebrates Thanksgiving, much the same as the States do, but on the second Monday in October. We insisted on a Thursday, so our combined family from the USA, Italy and Mexico celebrated almost-Canadian Thanksgiving in October. In Cincinnati, Ohio. Of course.

The trip began well enough. That first morning, Gramps (that’s me) and all the grand-kids got up at the crack of dawn for a ride out into the Ohio countryside to visit Holtman’s Donut Shop, a local legend. We had a list of desired donuts, totaling two per person per day. The entire operation was run with military precision: it is amazing what children will do when properly motivated by a maple-bacon cruller, or an Oreo Cro-nut. Reinforced with all that sugar, the day truly began.

There were a few hiccups. I contacted every local butcher shop, but none had fresh turkeys. Even a local turkey farm said “no bueno.” Judy pre-ordered groceries for delivery, so we would have all the necessary fixings. Except the Meijer grocery store decided not to deliver the frozen turkey. And the cranberries. And the Brussels sprouts. And the gravy. And what they did deliver arrived at ten pm, after saying they would deliver before nine. An unplanned scavenger hunt at local grocery stores the next morning replaced everything except the turkey, and as it was too late for defrosting anyway, we subbed-in smoked beef ribs and pulled pork.

Always take the family pic BEFORE the game, in case of traumatic injury!

While we were shopping, we decided we all wanted to get flu shots (the family that gets stuck together, sticks together, right?), so we asked for them at the Kroger minute clinic, which was advertising “walk-in convenience.” Apparently that means something other than literally what it says, as the flustered clinician told us it couldn’t be done for several hours. He couldn’t explain why, but that was that. We went to another Kroger and did get them done, but it took a good hour and a half.

The weather cooperated fully, and the leaves were starting to turn in southern Ohio, with crisp mornings and bright sunny days. On the day of our movable feast, we walked the kids around some local parks, just to burn off the donuts. By mid-afternoon, we were past the sugar high and ready to feast! And what a feast: the aforementioned ribs and pulled pork, corn and breaded cauliflower and Brussels sprouts and sweet potato casserole, Judy’s famous stuffing (with sausage, chestnuts, onions and bread), cranberry relish, fruit salad, crescent rolls and Outback Steakhouse bread (and yes, a bloomin’ onion, just because), washed down with wine and beer. If it sounds like an odd mix, that’s because Judy insists everybody gets to choose one item for the menu. There’s some horse-trading about the staples, then some one-off selections. And way too much food.

Then with full bellies we settled in for a nap!

No, just kidding. We hadn’t played the annual Turkey Bowl yet, so after just enough time for the food to be moved safely into our lower digestive tract, we walked over to the high school football field. The local team was practicing on their turf, but there was a flag football field helpfully marked off nearby on the grass, and the game was on. A bruising (mostly me, as I insisted on diving for a catch) battle ensued, ending with Team Gramps kicking a go-ahead field goal (3-0). The other team was given one last chance to win (sudden death rules), but their fourth down pass in the end zone fell incomplete.

Notice the human-like goal posts! and “It’s good!”

Post-game celebrations included banana pudding, pecan pie, apple cobbler, and ice cream. Leftover donuts and pie were on the breakfast menu the next day, with ice cream, of course!

The grand-kids conducting in-person connectivity online. ‘cuz that’s what they do.

As we like to say in my family, a get-together with no police visits, emergency room visits, or familial brawls is a success. I wish y’all a Happy Thanksgiving, whenever you get around to celebrating it (here’s to you, Canada!). And if you find yourself stuck in bad weather or crowded airports, remember a better way for next year!

Malta

Continuing our tour of obscure European locales which merit your traveling attention, we bring you: Malta.

Valletta is all ups-n-downs (note the famous enclosed Maltese balconies)

Again you’re thinking: “wait, I know this one! It’s an island. It’s small. It played some role in World War II. It has knights.” All true, and although the knights are all gone, their effect is lasting.

Located midway between Sicily and Libya at a narrow point in the Mediterranean, and also midway between Egypt and Gibraltar, Malta is the epitome of strategic location, whether in the age of knights, corsairs, or U-boats. The island boasts amazing weather, reminiscent of lakeside: sunny, warm, with a rainy season primarily in the winter, although it doesn’t get very cold here. Befitting its history, Malta is an odd mix of cultures, languages, and traditions. It has some of the oldest standing archaeological structures in existence, an amazing port, oodles (a technical term) of history, beaches and resorts. There is something for everyone here, and plenty of sunny weather to go and do it.

Cuisine is a mix of Italian and north African, with a dollop of recent English on top. The language is unique: it is Semitic, heavily influenced by Italian and French. It reminds me of Italian written by someone on a keyboard with the letter “x” stuck. But since the English grabbed Malta after Napoleon briefly had it, everybody understands English, although the locals all speak Maltese, too. They’re part of the EU, so travel is easy and the Euro is the currency.

Three of the embattled forts overlooking the Grand Harbor

St. Paul’s wrist on the left, part of the pillar where he was beheaded right

For thousands of years, Malta was a simple place most famous as a refuge for ships in its grand harbor. During the Roman Empire, Saint Paul was shipwrecked here on his way to Rome. He converted the locals, and other than that, it was a cozy, sleepy island in the sun. When the Ottoman Empire eyed the White Sea (their term for the Mediterranean) and Rome, Malta became contested territory. This led to Suleiman the Magnificent’s Great Siege of Malta in 1565 (Muchas Gracias to my friends who recommended the book Empire of the Sea!), an epic land battle where a few thousand Knights Hospitaller (formerly Knights of Saint John, later Knights of Malta) and Maltese militias held off tens-of-thousands of Muslim Janissaries, Sipahis (cavalry), cannons and ships. The land battle preceded the great naval battle of Lepanto which left the Ottoman Empire in control of only the east and south, with various Christian rulers in the north and west of the Mediterranean. The Knights built a new city/fortress in honor of their victorious commander, Jean de Valette, and Valletta was born.

Malta resumed its quiet history until World War II broke out, then it played a vital role preventing Axis’ domination of the Mediterranean. A German-Italian blockade brought the island and garrison within two weeks of surrender due to starvation, but it held out, and later was the headquarters for Eisenhower’s largest amphibious operation, Operation Husky, the invasion of Sicily. (Great bar trivia bet: Husky was indeed larger–more troops, larger landing zones– than Overlord!).

Saw an open Church door, went in, found this stunner

But enough of all that history! Malta today is a thriving, independent nation. It is a very Catholic (literally) place: the only city where we saw as many churches as Valletta was Venice, and here the churches aren’t museums or art galleries, they’re active parishes! We stayed primarily in Valletta so we could walk around and take in the sights slowly. The challenge of driving a stick with the wrong hand on the wrong side of the road (apologies to my British friends) seemed unrelaxing, what?

The most surprising structure in Valletta is the co-Cathedral of St. John’s, the Knights’ own headquarters. From the outside, it is just another sandstone building, but when you enter, you’re confronted by a degree of baroque extravagance that is hard to fathom. The church was initially rather plain, befitting a military order full of men who took a vow of poverty. But as the Knights accrued wealth in their military campaigns, they donated it to the order, which kept adding to the opulence in their headquarters. This was the result:

The many side chapels belong to the national groupings and were decorated by them. The entire floor of the chapel comprises Knights’ burial plaques :

Finally, I can’t depart without showing Caravaggio’s Beheading of John the Baptist, a legendary work of chiaroscuro located in the Oratory:

Malta’s other military endeavor is also well represented by the Lascaris War Rooms, a series of underground bunkers which the Allied forces used to manage the defense of Malta and later the Sicily invasion. Like Churchill’s War Rooms in London, the facility has been restored to its original setting and is an impressive still-frame of history before the age of computers, satellites, and instant communications.

Belying the notion there is nothing new to see, we chanced upon a monastery housing a group of cloistered nuns who opened their original rooms for tours. . . for the first time in 400 years. Still no interactions with the Sisters, but we got to see how they lived and dedicated themselves for those centuries:

We took advantage of the English heritage to access some cuisine lacking at times back in Mexico: Chinese and Middle Eastern. But we also indulged local flavors:

Foreground: full English brekkie, background: Steak, egg, cheese Ftira

The nation of Malta includes three primary islands: Malta, Comino, and Gozo. Gozo is the less developed little brother with just as much scenery and history. We took a jeep (no really, a jeep, not a Jeep Wrangler) tour that left me with flashbacks from my Army days, but some stunning shots, too:

There were too many museums, forts, churches, and cafes to list. We enjoyed Fort St. Elmo and rabbit, the grandkids liked the Malta 5D experience with moving seats, wind gusts, and water spray.

The saluting battery, still used twice daily, this time set up for a wedding

We didn’t hit the resorts or beaches, but there were numerous ones to visit. I think water sports in general are a big thing here, and there are many small boat/sail tours which provide a day of sun, swim, and snorkel. We did enjoy the sights and tastes including rabbit, which comes close to being the national meat of choice:

Slovenia

Shhhhhhh. I’m going to let you in on a secret, but you have to promise not to tell ANYONE, OK? Covid is gone, or should I say, we’ve stopped caring about it, and travel is back with a vengeance. And that means the crowds are back: the tourist buses, the cruise crowds, the extended families in matching outfits traipsing through the museum. Add in social influencers taking selfies as if the whole world is their stage (“isn’t it?”) and digital nomads turning any neighborhood into an Air BnB wasteland, and well, you get the picture. The only thing missing at this point is the mega-tours of Chinese travelers, but wait another six months and they’ll be back, too.

The secret? Oh, that. You don’t have to deal with all of these travel annoyances. And you don’t have to be rich to avoid them. You just have to know where to go, and where NOT to go. The throngs tend to, well, “throng” at the same places at the same time. They don’t do their research, don’t consider their options. They travel as much to say they’ve been there as to experience anything in particular. If they visit a place no one else recognizes, it defeats the whole purpose for them. But this presents an opportunity for the savvy traveler.

A prime example is Slovenia. No, not Slovakia. You know, that little country directly east of Italy up by the Alps? Yes, that one!

It was a small but prosperous part of Yugoslavia until that country broke apart in 1991. It was ethnically distinct (Slavic and Catholic) and geographically compact, so after a brief ten-day “war” Yugoslavia let it go independent. Which was a real blessing, as Slovenia escaped all the bloodshed and turmoil witnessed by Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia, et al. Slovenes instead busied themselves joining the EU and NATO, trading freely and building up their infrastructure.

What does Slovenia offer?

First off, convenience. It is centrally located in Europe and easy to get to. It’s small with an excellent road system: you can drive across the country in three hours. It uses the Euro, and because the education system incorporated mandatory English language classes, nearly everybody speaks English. Yes, the place names and Slovenian language are a challenge, but the Slovenes we met were happy with a “hvala” and “prosim” (thank you and please).

Second, it’s beautiful on multiple counts. Like rolling farms with vineyards and meadows? Check. Alpine hiking and views? Check. Pristine streams and lakes? Check. Hiking trails, ski resorts, caves? Triple-check. Quaint villages and local diners? Check. If you like your travel to include amazing landscapes, Slovenia has one specifically to take your breath away.

Third, it’s interesting. The cuisine is a mix of influences: Balkan, Austrian, Hungarian, Italian. The ingredients are very natural and organic: locals are interested in making and having the best of their produce, not labeling it, marketing it, and selling it elsewhere. Its history is Europe’s history. There are Roman, Venetian, even Byzantine ruins, little known World War I battlefields, baroque architecture recalling Vienna, and pieces of Yugoslav Communist kitsch.

Fourth, Slovenia is small-town friendly. There are only about two million Slovenes. Theirs is a developed nation with a rich history, but they don’t care to crow too much about it. Furthermore, they haven’t been inundated with tourists yet, so we’re still welcome here.

Fifth and finally, Slovenia is on sale. Being off the beaten path, undiscovered on TikTok, means prices are still reasonable. How so? Farm-stay bed-and-breakfast with huge breakfast buffet: 80 Euros a night. Dinner for two with apps and drinks: 60 Euros.

We stayed in the karst region, with all the caves, for three nights at the already-mentioned farm. It made for a leisurely pace to visit the massive caves at Postonja and the impressive castle at Predjama, which are only about ten kilometers apart. Postonja Jama (cave) is touristy in a good way: easy to get to, easy to park at, with a dual track mini-train doing the hard work of getting you deep into the system, and back out again, and solid audioguides to explain what you’re seeing. But as with any natural wonder, perhaps it’s better just to sit back and take in the beauty. No “turn out the lights” tricks or claims about ghosts, pirates or aliens; just a pretty, large, natural wonder.

Wheeeeeee. I enjoyed the train ride best.

Predjama castle bills itself as the “world’s largest cave castle”: who knew that was even a thing? It is an impressive structure with (of course) a medieval legend about a Robin Hood-esque knight. The tour highlights how the castle, built over and into the mouth of a cave system, provided safety above all else. But it also emphasized how ingenious the builders had been to make the place as livable as possible.

We did a day trip to Lake Bled, which may be the photo op extraordinaire of Slovenia. No doubt you’ve seen the pictures, even if you’ve never visited! The day was overcast with some light rain. We took the traditional pletna boat (rowed out to the island). There is no color/warmth editing in these photos:

You could easily walk around the lake in a few hours. . . you could, we didn’t, as the occasional rain told us to find a restaurant with this on serve:

Foreground: my pork filet over polenta. Background: Judy’s Slovenian style pizza, always with Union unfiltered dark beer!

It only took us thirty minutes to drive from Lake Bled to Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia. The old city is small and nestles around the river under a cliff-top castle. While the city has modern neighborhoods that sprawl out from there, the center is very walkable with good transportation options, including a free mini-bus even in the pedestrian zone. The influence of centuries under the Hapsburgs shows in numerous cafes and pocket parks. There are also interesting elements of baroque architecture (especially the Cathedral of St. Nicolas), art nouveau, and even brutalist buildings from Tito’s reign.

Sadly, the steady rain followed us from Lake Bled, so we spent the next few days dashing about under umbrellas and rain jackets. Happily, there are many (many) cafes and bars to duck into for a forced cappuccino or Aperol Spritz!

The old town area is achingly cute. You can barely turn a corner without seeing something quaint: a museum, a restaurant, a curio shop.

Slovene cuisine tends toward meat (especially sausage and game) and potatoes, although I did find a restaurant with pizza rolls in the menu, a sure sign of highly refined culinary culture!

Foreground: veal cheeks with dumplings, background: bacon-wrapped pork loin with roasted potatoes

There are a number of good museums covering music, art, natural history, national history and the like.

Ljubljana was a real winner in our book. Good food, great scenery, and a walkable environment. We met service staff that were very friendly, and others who were bored with their jobs. Tipping is minimal here, so perhaps that plays a role. Three days is a good visit, and that leaves you time to visit the natural beauty of the coast, the vineyards, the lakes, and of course the mountains.

But go soon, as Slovenia keeps popping up on travel sites as one of the next big things!

Tuscany

Most travelers either have gone, or someday plan to go, to Italy for the Big Three: Roma, Firenze (Florence), and Venezia (Venice). We’ve done it, and highly recommend it, staying at least three days in Rome, two in Florence, and one night in Venice. Such a visit is fairly easy to accomplish, with easy access to either end from international airports, and excellent train connections between them. And of course all three welcome tourists, although Venice has become a little more circumspect of late. It is well worth it, and each city presents unique and complementary aspects.

But I’m blogging today on a different kind of Italy visit: getting off the well-trod path of the Big Three and seeing the Italian countryside in a more personal, less touristy way. You can pick almost any region of Italy to do this kind of visit, but we’re staying in Tuscany, so that’s the example I will use.

Under the Tuscan clouds is none too shabby, either

What makes this kind of slow, local travel more interesting? First off, it’s the absence of the checklist effect. You know, the Rome? Colosseum: check. Vatican museum: check. Forum: check. And so on until you can’t remember what-you-saw-where or what-you-ate-when. The funny thing about staying in a small village or region is that there will still be nice museums, great restaurants, amazing views, friendly locals, cozy enotecas (wine bars) and pizzerias. You might not be at the one everybody else is doing TikTok videos from, but the one you’re at will be (1) less crowded, (2) less expensive, and (3) just as good.

The interesting thing about staying local in Italy is nearly every region, every village, has something interesting to do and very good places to eat. Italians take pride in how they live, and that extends to all aspects: a bad restaurant is an affront to the village, not just the owner. And as any Stanley Tucci fan knows, every region has unique local cuisine that must be tried and enjoyed. So don’t fret about staying in an out of the way place: it will be great!

What’s with the lion? I dunno, he just seemed to demand my attention

But where to stay, if you’re not in a tourist-friendly hotel chain near the center of a big city? I’d recommend choosing either a castle-stay or an agriturismo. Many entrepreneurs have renovated castles, keeps, or watchtowers into boutique hotels in Italy, and they are comfortable and available. They might be a little on the expensive side: you’re paying extra for the experience. And you might have to carry your bags across the moat. But then again, you’ll be able to complain about having to carry your bags across a moat. Who gets to do that?

As to agriturismos, these are government-regulated farm stays. To qualify for the government funding, the property must be an active farm which provides some measure of room and board. There are such farms which welcome you to join in the chores, and many more with a bed-n-breakfast(+) design. You’ll get farm-fresh meals, cozy accommodations, and a chance to meet real locals. While there are a wide range of prices, they can be very affordable.

Once you’ve selected a region and settled on a home base, now comes the fun part. Ask for local recommendations for things to do and places to eat, and limit how far you’re willing to drive. Did I mention driving? Many caution against driving in Italy, and I fully understand why. But that prohibition stands mostly for the big cities. Italian drivers are aggressive (not dangerous, just not defensive), city streets are narrow, parking is limited, gas is expensive, and there are ZTLs (Zona a Traffico Limitato): places where only registered locals can drive, where you as a tourist can get a big fine. But to get around the countryside, driving is fine. Here in Tuscany, the local roads are wind-y, narrow, and full of cyclists. Car trips take time, and the driver doesn’t get to enjoy the beautiful scenery as he/she dodges italianos bent on breaking a personal best on their Colnagos. Remember, the town, castle, or restaurant two hours away is probably no better (just different from) the one five minutes away. Stay at home and visit, and limit the driving.

Now go back to the same places at different times. In a week, you can become a veritable local at the village osteria! Or work your way down the village square hitting every local establishment. Ask for different gelato flavors every day at the nearby gelateria. You can drive yourself (literally) crazy chasing after the next-better wine tasting in Italy, since wines like Chianti Classico and Montepulciano d’Abruzzo aren’t that far apart. And that’s just the DOCs: don’t even try to compare vintners within each DOC: your liver will never make it! (I know, I tried).

We’ve stayed local in Tuscany twice now, and it’s been very rewarding. There are those little hang-ups which make the trip more memorable. Ever have a multi-hundred Euro heating bill at the Hilton? Of course not, but if you heat your castle room with propane, you might! But you forgot to bring your servants and firewood to the castle, now didn’t you?

My dear wife has made it her life’s work to eat Ribollita, the hearty (almost a stew) Tuscan vegetable-and-bread soup at nearly every restaurant; she can even discern the differences in which vegetables and bread are used! For my part, in smaller villages, I’ve found it possible to dress up a little bit and not have everybody automatically think I’m an American. . . of course, the minute I open my mouth . . .

You can still day-trip into those more famous places, experiencing those crowds and selfie-stick hordes, secure in the knowledge that when you’re fed up with it, you can hop back in your Fiat, motor off into the countryside and breathe!

Ever wish they would let the horses loose randomly, in the middle of the day?

The Cruellest Month

My very literate friends will immediately recognize the line from “The Waste Land.” T.S. Elliot began his epic poem with the line “April is the cruellest month, breeding. . .” With all due respect to the great poet, he must never have visited lakeside, for here all know that May, not April, is the cruellest month.

Now in most of the rest of the world, if you ask for a “bad-weather month” you might likely receive December or January in temperate climes, maybe August in tropical ones. Most of the Northern Hemisphere is quite nice and Spring-like in May, the Southern likewise Fall-ish. Lakeside is famous–even if erroneously so, since National Geographic magazine NEVER called it the second best climate in the world–for having great weather. And that much is true. But among all those sunny, dry, comfortable months, May stands out as the worst.

You see, May is the last full month of the dry season. We have not seen measurable precipitation since October, which is the norm. June will herald the arrival of the rainy season, not to be confused with a monsoon. Rather, here it is simply an acknowledgement that it will rain. After seven months without it, it is always welcome. People wander outside during the first real rainstorm just to feel it, much as the MesoAmericans must have with great thanksgiving. No more human sacrifices, though. There might have been a day in those seven months with a shower; for example, the day before yesterday we had a few drops for a few seconds. But that is not rainfall. It was more like what you’d expect if you turn on your yard sprinkler and realize it’s aimed directly at you. Splash, and then gone.

The mountains are uniformly brown, with a splotch of green here and there, from some uniquely-evolved native plant or tree which resists nature’s regulatory palette. The yards and the gardens remain green with an explosion of well-watered and cared-for flora. There is an omnipresent thin coat of dust which settles on all horizontal surfaces, and which magically recreates itself after each sweeping/cleaning. Wearing white or black pants is a newbie’s mistake.

May is the hottest month lakeside. Our average daily high temperature is 85° Fahrenheit, with a low of 60°. May stretches that high into the mid-90s. Now it’s true that temperature is for full sun exposure in the middle of the afternoon, which is why the culture has a siesta: only mad dogs and Gringos go out in the noonday Sun, as it were. And it’s also true the temperature moderates quickly down to a comfortably sleepy level by early evening.

You’re reading this and thinking, “Pat, you’re whining” and you’re right. We are spoiled by a great climate, or as I prefer to say, we just don’t have weather here. Which makes the few negatives stand out all the more. I have transitioned into a local for climatic purposes. I still use Fahrenheit over Celsius, but I swear that the metric measurement for temperature is superior. Why? Because there is no reason for temperatures below zero. We should just stop at 0° Celsius and say, “enough, it’s too cold, stop measuring it.” I haven’t taken to wearing gloves and ski jackets below 6o° as the Mexicans do, but I can see it in my future.

Therefore May is the perfect month to venture out of the slightly uncomfortable paradise at lakeside to the far ends of the globe. Most of the United States is lovely now, although there is the occasional hail of bullets. Europe is in shoulder season and at bargain prices. Heck, even Canada has ice-free roads (for a day or two).

May also heralds the departure of the snowbirds, those semi-annual visitors from up north, who begin returning home in April and finish up in May, leaving us year-round expats with time to savor unclogged roads and restaurant visits without reservations. Like the rain, after seven months we’ll even miss them and want them back!

I admit there is something magical about the four seasons as one experiences them in northern climes. Spring is especially welcome, what with the signs of new life. But June and the rainy season play a similar role here: it is a different world once the rains come. They are eagerly anticipated. Local legend has it that once the rainbirds (aka cicadas) start singing, the rains will come too. Some overly-eager (or is it literal) types compete to announce the rainbirds’ song. Perhaps they confuse correlation with causation. We did have dark clouds, wind, and a few drops the other day, and the rainbirds are giving tinnitus a run for its money.

Or as Eliot later wrote,

Only a cock stood on the rooftree
Co co rico co co rico
In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
Bringing rain.

There is a green cactus in there, but that don’t count!

Mexico City Tips & Tricks

My old college roommate (aka cellmate) Creatch and his lovely wife Tammy visited with us last week, and we all went off to see Mexico City, which was a return trip for Judy and me. Some hints and suggestions from a great trip:

Facade of St. Augustine, in Polanco

Uber works quite well in CDMX. We used it for short trips inside the city, as well as longer trips to Xochimilco and Teotihuacan. As usual, it is cheaper, faster, and more reliable than the taxis. The only drawback is it is still a car on a road, so it is subject to the congestion which is endemic to Mexico City. Which leads to this tip:
Visit during the holiday periods of Christmas and Easter. Our first visit was with Charter Club Tours during Christmas week, and we learned that while most of the attractions are open, many chilangos (residents of the city) depart for elsewhere, so there is much less traffic. I checked with a local, who confirmed the same happens Semana Santa and Pascua (the week before and after Easter). Both are ideal times to visit.
The Mexico City metro is extensive, reliable, cheap, and safe. We used it frequently, and at $5 MXP per trip (about $.25 USD, regardless of length) it is quite a bargain. While it can get crowded, we never felt uncomfortable or threatened. You navigate by the distinct symbols for each station, as well as directions (the endpoints for each line), and there are plenty of signs and people willing to help. There are even cars/areas set aside for women and children, to avoid even the possibility of anyone bothering you. Best of all, no car traffic or congestion.
One thing from which you can’t get away is smog. It’s better when there are fewer cars on the road, but if pollution bothers you, you need to come prepared. And since you’re at 7300 ft elevation, you may feel it even more!
If your stay includes a Monday, many museums, attractions, etc. may be closed, so plan the rest of your schedule around what you can do that day. The Soumaya museum, Carlos Slim’s art gallery and tribute to his late wife, is open every day of the year, and you can spend an entire day there, so it’s a great wild card to visit whenever you have extra time. Oh, and take the elevator to the top and work your way down the spiral levels (less crowded, easier on your feet).
We stayed at the Pug Seal Anatole France, a boutique hotel in Polanco. I can’t recommend it enough if it is in your price range. It had great customer service, very comfortable rooms, a central location, and a made-to-order breakfast to die for.
If you’re going to visit the Teotihuacan pyramids or Chapultepec castle/palace, go early in the morning. It is hot, there is a lot of walking, not that much shade, and the tours/busses start arriving around 1100.
Xochimilco. What to say? If you don’t know, when the Mexica ruled Tenochtitlan, it was an island city in the middle of a great lake. The Mexica created islands (chinampas) around the city to use as farms, and a tiny fraction of those islands are still around, although greater Mexico City has enveloped them. About thirty years ago, some enterprising Chilango started offering boat rides on the remaining canal, where a family could come and picnic on the water. It became a local custom, and now there are a thousand or more little party boats, and other boats with mariachi bands, floating cafes, floating bars, floating trinket stores, you name it. It runs almost everyday, it’s a tourist attraction and a great party. But it has nothing to do with the original chinampas. We found a private eco-tour using the same type of boat, but it went out of the crowded tourist canal to the remaining farm islands, where Ricardo showed us his farm and treated us to a fresh meal of blue corn tortilla chips, vegetables & guacamole, tamales, café de olla, and horchata. The visit was educational, delicious, peaceful, and supported the return of farmers to the chinampas. I highly recommend it: De la chinampa.

We were able to attend the Balet Folklórico,a rousing performance of pre-Hispanic and Mexican culture, music, and dance, at the Palacio Bellas Artes. Both the building and the performance are not to be missed!
If you want to eat at any of the legendary restaurants in CDMX, like Pujol in Polanco, you need to make reservations about two months early, even for lunch. It’s worth it, but you need to plan ahead. There are many just great restaurants in every neighborhood, so you won’t go hungry and don’t need to break the bank.
Among those “must-do’s” are eating at the Casa de Azuelas in Centro Historico, where Sanborn’s has its flagship restaurant, and getting churros at any of the several el Moro franchise locations. They will check your passport to see if you have before you can leave CDMX . . . not really, but they should, and so should you!
Also, you must visit the Zocalo, the main square of Mexico City, which functions as a combination of Times Square, the National Mall in DC, and the Smithsonian. It’s huge, and has the world’s largest Mexican flag (which has raising and retiring ceremonies at varying times around dawn and dusk). It also has government buildings where you can reserve a tour to see fantastic murals of Mexican history, and the top of the original Mexica great temple (Templo Mayor) and the crazy leaning Catholic Cathedral. Note for first-timers: Mexico City is sinking (it was built on a lake-bed in a seismically-active zone) as much a several centimeters a year. As you walk around, you will get a vague sense that “something I am looking at is not quite right” which is caused by the many buildings leaning at weird angles. It’s not you; it’s the city. When you visit the Templo Mayor, just know that there is probably no other place on earth where more people have died: the Mexica practiced mass sacrifice daily for several centuries!
On a lighter note, among the great places to take a break and a picture are the cafe atop the Sears store next to the Palacio Bellas Artes, the restaurant near the top of the Torre LatinoAmericana, and the cafe (la Terraza) overlooking the Templo Mayor in the Centro Historico. Spectacular views for the cost of a cafe and a snack.
Even if you’re not Catholic, if you just want to understand Mexico better, take a quick trip to La Villa, the suburb where Our Lady of Guadalupe appeared to Juan Diego (a Mexica) in 1531. There is a series of chapels and Basilicas there, built over the years, to hold the image of La Guadalupana (named for the hill) which miraculously appeared in Juan Diego’s tilma (or rough native cloak). Ignore the miraculous cures. Ignore the story of the anarchist who tried to blow up the image in 1921, destroying a golden crucifix but leaving the image unharmed. Ignore the fact that scientists can’t explain the image: the tilma should have disintegrated by now, the fact that the image is not painted on, in fact they don’t know how it is “there”, the fact that there are images within the image which are inexplicable. Instead, watch the faithful crawl across the stone and asphalt square on their knees to attend Mass. When Padre (later defrocked) Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla issued his grito to liberate Neuva España from Spain, his army marched under a banner of La Guadalupana. Regardless of faith, all Mexican revere her.
Finally, in Chapultepec park (much larger than Central Park, by-the-by), there is a cultural center called Los Pinos. It is the Mexican White House, and it is free to visit. The current Mexican President decided it was too pretentious, so he declined to move there and turned the various homes (several Presidentes build their own) into a museum open to the public. Undoubtedly the next Mexican President will move back in, and you’ll have visited while it was still available!

Six Years an Expat

Facebook just reminded us we passed our sixth anniversary of moving to Mexico. Time to take a look around and see what’s changed here, and what remains the same.

First and foremost, there are more people around here. Not just expats, but also chilangos and tapatios looking to live the good life. Now that we are post-pandemic, there is a steady stream of NOB social media posts about “moving to Mexico,” and the snowbird season is especially noticeable for the crowds and traffic. But weekends year-round can be overcrowded, too. Now, to keep things in perspective, lakeside remains a string of small villages nestled ‘tween the lake and the mountains, and most of the time it still feels that way. But at times and seasons, one starts to feel the “where did all these people/cars come from?” vibe.

Several of the grand development projects intended for lakeside have flopped. The eyesore along the libramiento, on the hill overlooking WalMart, is in suspended animation: no building, maybe not even any advertising. Just an ugly road zigzagging up the mountain. May it always be only so. The seven story apartment complex on the lake near La Floresta got cut down to three or four stories, which was all it was originally approved to be. The assisted living facility west of town seems to be financially stuck, not completely finished. It’s still hard to do big things in Mexico; that hasn’t changed.

Which is not to say there is no development. Lakeside has been a beehive of what is known as “in-fill,” where small parcels or lots are transformed into little complexes of homes or apartments. This is happening in the village of Ajijic and westbound towards the county line with Jocotepec. There are some larger developments intended along the libramiento, and perhaps in and east of Chapala. There is also a continued gentrification challenge, as cash-heavy gringos buy traditional casas in Mexican neighborhoods, then gut-and-remodel them into much larger, more expensive properties.

Despite all this development, there is still no serious government plan to improve infrastructure. There are condominios with problems accessing water, others areas face sewage run-off. Internet access went from poor to good (not by NOB standards), but it is spotty by location, with the usual problems of intermittence. Still, it is generally good enough for streaming and perhaps working online. And the roads. . .well, they merit some paragraphs all their own.

First, we have mostly cobble-stone streets. They are the local tradition, quaint, difficult to walk on, and easily damaged. And when I say cobble-stone, I do not mean pavers, or bricks, or anything else other than STONES which are cobbled (placed) together to make a surface. During our rainy season, when some streets become streams, the stones get dislodged, and gradually grow into wheel-eating baches. Eventually the government hires someone to carefully replace the stones, usually after the rainy season ends. Rain-n-Repeat.

Given the lakeside villages lie between a lake-and-a-mountain range, there is only one major road crossing the area, with no space for another. The government occasionally adds traffic lights, which don’t help, since they are neither timed nor use sensors. All these lights do is spread the traffic jams smoothly across the area. Everyone notices that when the lights go out during the rainy season, traffic flow actually improves. Add in numerous gringos whose licenses NOB would have been suspended decades ago, young tapatios who think any straight road is a potential drag-strip, trash-trucks, gas-trucks, vegetable-trucks, families on scooters, pizza-deliverers, and people tripping on cobblestones and you can see why some folks find the traffic maddening.

The most obvious and nakedly terrible change was the redesign of the intersection of the libramiento (the main bypass leading in to Ajijic) with the carretera (main street) in front of WalMart. Months of work and apparently minutes of planning resulted in a concentrated series of lights, right turn lanes, no left turns, topes (speed bumps), bus stops, an access road (with dividers which can be driven over) that safely brings all traffic to a standstill, except late at night, when everybody just drives through regardless of the lights. There is literally no legal way for drivers coming from the east to turn into WalMart. It is a spectacle that must be seen to be believed.

The government did complete a cyclopista, a bike lane running the length of lakeside. It was widely derided by expats as a white elephant project, and even locals objected because it ate a parking lane on the carretera. But it turned into a field-of-dreams moment; they built it, and now it’s full of cyclists and pedestrians! Of course, gringos flying down the bike lane in electrified bikes are a new menace to left turns. But that’s Mexico, two steps forward, two steps left, three steps right, one step back, and what were we doing, anyway?

One thing unchanged is lakeside remains dining-out heaven. There are more, more diverse, inexpensive but good quality restaurants than any comparable town on the planet. The restaurants constantly come and go, or just change locations. The staffs move around, too. We often find we are re-introducing ourselves to a waiter by saying, “weren’t you at X and then Y restaurant?” Prices have been hit by inflation and a small appreciation by the Mexican Peso. But here’s a telling example. We went out for German food yesterday. Yes, German food in a tiny Mexican village. We had two suppen as vorspeisen, a bottle of German bier, two glasses of Mexican wine, and two servings of German-style goulash (beef) with red cabbage and spaeztle. Delicious, and quite authentic (we used to live in Germany). Total with tip? $1000 MXP, or roughly $50 USD at current rates. Of course one can eat much more frugally, but you get the point. I can cite German, French, Italian, Spanish, Polish, Middle-Eastern, Thai, Indian, Vegetarian/Vegan, Russian, Jewish Deli, Venezuelan, Chinese, Japanese/Sushi, Vietnamese, Argentine, Tex-Mex, diners, pubs, and maybe even a few Mexican places, doncha’know?

We’re seeing more, younger expats. The pandemic sent several million baby-boomers into early retirement, and that’s something (I can attest to being) much more affordable in Mexico. We also see more young families, who are looking for a quality-of-life improvement. The weather, the cost of living, and the cultural emphasis on family over financial success all play parts. We don’t see as many of the young, single, digital nomads. They tend to head toward bigger cities, as the night-life at lakeside can be limited.

The increase in migration from the United States to Mexico has led the Mexican federal government to be more rigorous about immigration status. The financial requirements keep increasing (they don’t want indigent visitors any more than any other country does), as do the enforcement of things like tourist visas, property ownership, car buying, et cetera. On the plus side, they are streamlining the actual process of crossing the border at airports, so it’s much smoother and faster.

The weather remains near perfect in this expat’s opinion. Long-time expats assure me it was warmer in winter way back when (twenty years ago), but I remind them they were much younger way back when, too. We still don’t have and don’t need heating or cooling. I have yet to start my gas fireplace for any reason beyond cosmetic. I admit the climate here has greatly reduced my tolerance for extremes. I used to run daily in Washington, DC, whether in 100° F “black flag” heat-warnings or two feet of snow and ice, always in just a t-shirt (sometimes long sleeve) and shorts. Our recent visit to Panama left me seeking shelter from the tropical Sun, and our December visit to northern Italy had me shivering uncontrollably. I guess my blood has officially thinned.

Commercial development has started to spread along the carretera west of Ajijic, much like it once did east through Riberas and San Antonio Tlayacapan. There are more restaurants, shops, and services, although again they come and go without any sense of a development plan. Nothing captures this better than the sad tale of the dog shelter, which gringos requested and the local government funded the purchase of a property. Which ended up being next to several developments. Which meant 24 hour-a-day barking. Which led to petitions to move or close it. And another government effort to find a place, which apparently fell through and, well, you get the picture. One thing that has not changed is the absolute necessity of visiting a neighborhood before living here, and also looking at the land around it. Your small set of homes amidst groves could later have an auto-body shop, a dog run, and an evento (party palace) next door.

Some expats tell me the locals are starting to resent the expats for driving up prices. WalMart’s prices don’t change due to the expats, and the locals shop the tiendas, where they never pay “gringo taxes.” Expats do run up real estate prices–the gentrification problem I mentioned earlier–but that happens regardless of who is buying: Mexicans from Mexico City (Chilangos), Guadalajara (Tapatios), or expats (Gringos). The problem exists anywhere there is a desirable place to live. Regardless, everybody seems as friendly as ever, and this remains a great reason to visit or move here.

What about crime? Well, one becomes accustomed to waking to the sound of automatic weapons fire, and cordite-in-the-morning? It smells like victory! I kid of course, the only consistent noises we hear are cohetes (fireworks) and roof dogs. Nothing tells you you’re dealing with a newbie expat more than if they ask “what’s with the fireworks?” or “why are there dogs barking from rooftops?” Seriously, lakeside remains a Mexican Mayberry. We have predictable crime patterns: before Christmas, there are a raft of petty thefts and purse-snatchings, as some desperate people try to eke out some extra cash. After an election, the police are hesitant to make arrests because they don’t know how the new administration will respond. Sometimes a few new crooks come into the area and we have a string of car thefts or mustard-bandits, until they get caught. The degree of violent crime is such that no one thinks twice about walking around at night in the village. Can you do that where you live?

What do we have more of? More hospitals, clinics, doctors and dentists than you would imagine, especially since we are a short drive from Guadalajara, which is Mexico’s medical centro. We have two hospitals and a hospital-like clinic just around Ajijic. A couple more private international schools have opened, along with the existing public schools and the technology training center. More real estate firms (‘natch!). A dozen or more thrift/resale/antique shops. More Costco re-sale shops, who travel up to Guadalajara, purchase from Costco, then stock shelves locally.

Living among an aging retired expat cohort, one change is constant: good-byes. We’ve lost amigos to death, family emergencies NOB, and health issues. More newbie expats arrive than depart, and while this discomforts some old-timers, life here would be less if it was otherwise. Like the steady flow of people into the United States (I’ll write more on that in the near future), the steady flow to lakeside attests to one thing: life really is better here, if this lifestyle fits you. It sure fits us!

Travel Musings

As you may have noticed, we keep hitting the road, the waves, or the tarmac. I’ll often describe where we were, what we liked, what we ate and drank. Other times I just end up with some thoughts about travel that don’t fit in any particular location, but might be interesting nonetheless. This is one of the latter cases:

Airlines still haven’t recovered from the pandemic. Their passenger totals have, but their staffing and service lag. Wait times for simple things like checking in are up. Customer service numbers and chats are major sources of complaints, not ways to resolve them. Lost luggage numbers are up. Most of the large airlines say they’re getting better, but I don’t see much in the way of improvement. It is nice we can travel again. It’s still not nice to travel.
We had a terrible experience with Volaris and Viva Aerobus trying to get from Tijuana to Guadalajara, a simple three hour flight, on the day after Christmas. It took us the better part of two days, with two cancellations and two big delays. That was prompted by some fog in Mexico, just as the severe cold snap brought Southwest airlines to its knees in the States. The airlines have little slack in the system, and any disturbance (weather or labor, for example) can cause a passenger nightmare.
(Most of) Mexico is abandoning daylight saving time effective now. So especially for my fellow expats here in Mexico, if you’re making connections in the US in the summer, you need to check your reservations/flight schedules. As the US “springs forward” it will be an hour later there, so connections you might have made before may not be available now, or your Mexican departure may move up (earlier) an hour.
American pop culture continues its assault on good taste. My daughters tell me I gave them a real phobia as they were growing up about “looking like a tourist” when traveling. Nowadays, I see young locals all over Europe wearing athletic gear as casual attire, with off-kilter baseball caps to boot. Even older locals have taken to casual wear like athletic shoes or leggings. I guess it’s easier to fit in now. The funny aspect of this is the prevalence of rap music (in the local language of course). Can’t really walk around in most big European cities without hearing someone blasting a local rap; I hope the lyrics are better!
Speaking of manners, they’re either changing or declining. I was warned about eating with my hands in France (sorry, but everyone was). The curse of cell phone zombies, people unaware of other life forms because they are face down in a cell screen, is a real global pandemic. I especially dislike the Airpod-ders out there who think we’re all extras in their selfie music video; if they could only hear what we’re saying about them!
If you were lucky enough to get out and travel without the crowds during the pandemic, good for you. The crowds are back, so places like Venice and Santorini and the Amalfi coast are cheek-and-jowl experiences (at least in season). Many tourist haunts are adding visiting taxes which they hope will dissuade some visitors. That’s an experiment still playing out.
Partially, this is China’s fault. Just before the pandemic hit, the number of Chinese international tourists surpassed the number of American international tourists worldwide. Since Mexico is the number one tourist destination for Americans (not so much Chinese), this means Europe was especially overrun by large numbers of big Chinese tour groups. And Europe didn’t like it much. The pandemic was a chance to reset, and European hot spots are trying to change the dynamic. Now China is ditching its “zero covid” (failed) policy, which kept Chinese travelers from leaving the country since it could strand them overseas. Other countries are enacting testing/vaccine policies aimed at China, but this will not deter Chinese travelers, who faced daily testing and vaccine checks just to go outside.
Speaking of illness and travel, our involuntary stays in Tijuana and Monterey left us exposed at airports crammed with people, and guess what? We got very sick. Spent the last half of the week of 2022 through today self-quarantined with a series of symptoms better left unsaid. But therein lies a lesson for 2023. Due to all the pandemic precautions, the world had fewer flu and severe cold outbreaks for two years. Which means you, the traveler, were less exposed to such things for two years, while those nasty flu and cold bugs kept mutating. So you’re more susceptible to such illnesses in the new year. There’s a cheery thought!

When in doubt about your flight, just smile (a little) for the camera

Finally, with all that pent-up travel demand (Chinese and otherwise) coming to the fore, and airlines and tourist sites still recovering, prices have climbed and availability is dropping. You’ll see that some locations/routes are simply full all the way through 2023 already. So if you plan to travel this year, it’s probably best to get reservations now, and if you need it, get some travel insurance. Oh, and some patience. Lord knows, I’m praying for it!

Mexican Riviera

This tourist zone encompasses a series of similar tourist resorts that stretch along the Mexican Pacific coast, from the end of the Baja peninsula down to the Huatulco in Oaxaca. It’s perhaps unfair to call these places similar, since they are in fact different. However, the chief difference is that they are at different stages of development in the same life-cycle: tourist hot-spots.

The oldest of these, and arguably the most famous, is Acalpulco, which became a getaway for the Hollywood rich and famous back in the 1940s. Now it is well past its prime, attracting fewer foreign visitors and having a vaguely seedy reputation. Puerto Vallarta, or PV among expats, is the reigning champion. It has a modern cruise ship terminal and a well-developed tourism infrastructure to host visitors and expats. Probably next in line after PV are the various resort towns at the end of the Baja peninsula, namely Los Cabos (Cabo San Lucas and San Jose del Cabo). We visited Huatulco, PV, and Cabo San Lucas.

What you’ll find at all these sites are plenty of the usual tourist development (yes, Señor Frog is everywhere) but even more amazing ocean/beach activities. World-class sport-fishing? Check. Ditto for surfing. Endless beaches with bars, seafood restaurants and palapas? Yup. Whale-watching? Swimming with Dolphins? Of course. Ocean kayaking, paddle-boarding, snorkeling, yes. Para-sailing: yeah. Back on land, there are tours of small Mexican towns, visits to haciendas, tequila and mezcal tasting, and eco-visits to jungles and deserts. There is quite literally something for everybody along this coast.

Not being beach people or adventure-seekers, we visited small towns in Oaxaca and Baja California Sur. We can certify that the cruise tours provided what they promoted: very authentic sites where locals produced textiles, mezcal, or other crafts, and small towns still mostly as they are, not carefully crafted tourist recreations. The rug-weavers we saw came from the same small town in central Oaxaca we visited back in July. The mezcal producer used the same techniques we saw in Tequila.

We did sneak in some adventure. I finagled Judy’s agreement to go whale watching while in Puerto Vallarta, as December is the beginning of the humpback whale annual visit to the bay. I imagine she envisioned changing out the cruise ship for a large boat and watching for whales from a distance. I didn’t bother to explain we’d be in zodiacs, basically large inflatable rafts (with a hard interior) and an over-powered pair of marine engines. While Banderas Bay is generally calm, there is nothing calming about screaming across the small waves at 30+ knots in a zodiac, chasing whales. Judy survived the experience, so I’m still here to blog about it!

Happy Judy, when the zodiac is going slow

Whales!

Our ship looming over the cruise dock in Puerto Vallarta

New development built to fit in, in *Todos Santos*

Local tour guide claimed this was the inspiration, but it isn’t

Not everything can be authentic!