Merry Christmas from Mazatlan!
We've been having a wonderful time with our daughter, Kelly, in Mazatlan! Since she arrived a week ago, we've been dividing our time between exploring the city, relaxing at the pool or on the beach or in the hot tub, reading, and socializing with some of the other
yatistas, with the occasional boat-keeping task thrown in. It's been really great!
SCOOTS is docked at Marina El Cid, which adjoins a sprawling resort, complete with two pools (one with the requisite swim-up bar, and one with caves and waterfalls), a small beach, and lush grounds harboring iguanas of all sizes. Resorts have never been our family's thing - when traveling, we always chose the vacation rental home route - so being enveloped by a resort and all its trappings is a new experience for us...
Fleets of golf carts (some decorated like sleighs for the Christmas season) transport guests (and their voluminous mountains of luggage) from the registration building to their rooms. Troops of white-uniformed waiters and waitresses stride unceasingly back and forth between guests and the bar, taking and filling drink orders. Legions of guests sprawl on chaise lounges, splash in the pools, or participate in any number of activities led by the perky, young Actividades staff: Bingo! (
en ingles y espanol)! Water aerobics! Kids' club! Movies on the lawn! Disco dancing (with colored lights!) at the beach pavilion!
Here on SCOOTS, we float at the periphery of it all: we're allowed to use all the facilities (and participate in the Activities!) but unlike typical resort guests, we're not having a two-week, away-from-it-all, tropical vacation; we're just spending two weeks of our regular cruising life here. And it's great!
The question posed to us by the "gringo greeter" at the Mega supermarket we visited sums it up well. She asked us, "Are you on vacation, or do you live here?" Ummmm, "Yes." And that pretty much describes what it's like, to live on a boat in a resort area: we're visiting, so technically we're on vacation; but since we live on SCOOTS, we also have to do boatkeeping jobs, as if we lived here, which, in fact, we do.
I doubt that the Actividades staff have activities on their list such as "Take the bus to the supermarket to reprovision!" or "Clean the diesel tank!" or "Buy gas for the dinghy!" or "Wash the bird poop off the deck - again!" on their clipboards. We do.
We've been getting out pretty often, taking the bus or one of the
pulmonias (funky, open-air taxis) to explore or take care of boatkeeping tasks, such as reprovisioning. Old Mazatlan is quite charming, with its colonial buildings and green, inviting plazas. We've enjoyed strolling its streets, and taking a walk through its busy, crowded
mercado, where souvenir hawkers attempted to sell us hats or beachwear or jewelry or carved wooden bulls, alongside farmers selling their fresh, colorful produce, alongside butchers who had ALL parts of pigs and calves laid out for sale. It was a cultural experience, for sure!
The Catedral Basilica de la Inmaculada Concepcion
We strolled along the streets and through the verdant plazas, eventually ending up at a little gallery-cafe called Delirium Taco in the art district. I would describe the fabulous and interesting food served there as a "Mexicanization of non-Mexican foods" such as pesto made with Mexican herbs instead of basil, and pizzas made on tortillas, with local ingredients as toppings. Kelly and Eric had some really amazing and tasty tacos. They also have a homemade mint-cucumber soda that's very refreshing. If you're ever in Mazatlan, I highly recommend eating here.
Lunch at Delirium Taco
We walked along the
malecon one evening at sunset - eventually landing at a beachside restaurant where we had amazing ceviche - and another afternoon, when we took in the beachfront ambiance, including the many beautiful sculptures and fountains along the waterfront.
We also happened upon the performance of one of the
clavadistas - young men who dive from a sharp pinnacle into a narrow, shallow, roiling, boulder-strewn chasm. They only attempt this feat at high tide, and then only when a big wave rolls through, which provides them with enough water to survive the dive. And they do this FOR TIPS. I can think of about a thousand easier ways to get tips. I don't know how this tradition got started, but it seems nuts to me.
The
clavadista diving area
Yesterday our neighbor in the marina, who lives on his boat, told us about a street market ("don't call it a flea market, they get upset") in the Juarez district held only on Sundays: the
tianguis de Juarez. As soon as he told us that it's where many of the locals go shopping for deals ("tourists don't generally go there") we decided to go. We flagged down the Cocos-Juarez bus in front of the resort and rode it into the heart of the city.
As we rode, the glitzy hotels and supermarkets of the tourist areas were gradually replaced by small stucco homes and tiny
tiendas. We knew the
tianguis was somewhere on the Juarez bus line, but since we didn't know exactly where to get off, I asked a friendly-looking older woman sitting in the seat across from me if she would tell us where to get off. "Si," she said, and then she also offered to show us the way, as she was going to the
tianguis as well.
The
tianguis was as described by our neighbor: we saw many, many locals and only two other gringos for the rest of the afternoon. The streets for about four square blocks were lined with tarp shades, under which all sorts of wares were for sale: clothing, leather goods, housewares, produce, candy, hardware, haircuts, toys, and much more. And not one souvenir stand! Food vendors had set up tables on the sidewalk and were making and selling all sorts of Mexican dishes by hand. Eric wanted to buy lunch at one of these, but Kelly and I were a bit leery, so we didn't.
Getting back was a bit of an adventure. We boarded a Cocos-Juarez bus going what we thought was the right direction. We rode it out of town, past the prison, along paved roads and then bumping down dirt roads, past sleeping dogs and strutting roosters, along the train tracks, and finally pulling into a dusty vacant lot, where the driver told us that this was "el fin." When we asked him whether his bus was going back, he said "No" and pointed to another bus across the vacant lot.
The end of the line
The driver of the other bus was also taking his break, so he told us he would leave "en diez minutos." So we hung out for awhile in the dusty vacant lot, and about ten minutes later started back - along the train tracks, past sleeping dogs and strutting roosters, bumping down dirt roads and then paved roads, past the prison - and into town. We had a true tour of the Juarez district, for only 14 pesos (about a dollar) each - 7 pesos each way.
With another week here, I'm sure we'll have some more adventures to share.