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Subject:FW: San Patricio Melaque: Jellyfish!
From:mike miller
Date:Tue, 8 Jan 2002 20:35:41 -0800

Remember I'm only forwarding this.  Don't reply to me.  I'm just as jealous
as you are.

Mike

Jan 7th 2002
San Patricio Melaque
Jalisco, Mexico

Greetings everyone�

Life in the little fishing village north of Puerto Vallarta was so pleasant,
I feared if I remained another day I might never roll up my tent & move on
to new adventures.  Chalk this up to a gorgeous sweep of un-peopled beach
bordered by coco palms with a lagoon at one end (full of colorful birds &
the occasional crocodile).  Throw in a small population of amusing
international travelers with good stories & books to swap--including a
handsome single French Canadian who concocted a divine shrimp pasta, taught
me to play Euker, beat me at gin rummy often enough to keep it
interesting, & offered space in his fridge!

If life in Melaque is not the idyllic existence of the fishing village, it
offers other charms & amenities:  internet cafes, fresh fruit smoothies, a
plethora of good restaurants & markets just steps away from it�s little RV
park on the beach front.  (And for those so inclined, there�s a whorehouse
full of transvestites rumored to sport  stainless steel falsies�or so I am
told by my pal Ed, a wild Irishman & racing sailmaker I met last year.)

Unfortunately, this time through, I am dwarfed here by huge RV�s  & �fifth
wheels� from Canada & the US.  Later
in the season--on my way home--van conversions, tent ampers, & Westfalias
prevail, filling only a quarter of the available spaces. This is the Melaque
I know & love.

So I�ll remain a few days more, then head up into the central highlands.
There�s little peace here now, as I�m hemmed in on three sides.  My nearest
neighbor sprawls in a lounge chair, a cold cerveza clutched in his meaty
fist, monitoring his crackling ship to shore radio & tallying the dorado &
red snapper hooked by sunburnt sport fishermen two hundred miles to the
south.  When he intercepts a fisherman out of gas & drifting toward rocks,
he heaves himself up & out of his lounge chair like a beached whale, grabs
another cold cerveza, & hollers to all within earshot.

�Jee-zus! Some yahoo�s dead in the water again!  Some guy named Bob sez he�s
landed three big dorado.  And there�s a shitload of jellyfish.�

Here, now, I am far younger than these RV�ers.  Normally, I am younger than
even the early retirees I find in RV parks along this stretch of coast, &
since I look younger than my years & travel alone (!)(their exclamation, not
mine) I am highly suspect.  In self defense, I�ve learned to adopt a
detached air.  Rarely, a few of the older women are riendly; the husbands
are another matter:  they appear, as if by magic, to�help me set up�or add
my carton of yogurt to the contents of their fridge.

But in general, I am regarded with disdain by these bewildered older RV
wives, who find my presence unsettling.  For this reason, & many others, I
don�t often stay long in these big-rig RV parks.  I�ve learned, also, to
keep a low profile & reveal little of myself, my unconventional life, or my
travel adventures�lest I am invited for cocktail hour & trotted out to
perform like a trained seal.
�This girl�s been to Peru, Daddy�all alone!  Fancy that�Tell �em, honey.�

Today�s unseasonably hot, in keeping with this winter�s whacky weather
worldwide. Even Melaque�s got jellyfish today, a rare occurence.  (Locals
swear by urine as the best
remedy for painful jellyfish stings, but I prefer Tiger Balm)

It�s just too damn hot to do much of anything.  I�m writing in the shelter
of my large Kelty Sun Shade--& it�s so bright I struggle to locate my
laptop�s cursor.  Lo!  A ten year old boy�s just appeared with a huge  tray
balanced atop his head--fresh baked flan topped with peach slices--to which
I simply must succumb.  Cursor be damned!

My Westy�s just purring along & a shot of WD-40 seems to have fixed my
erratic speedometer.  Once I�ve had my fill of Melaque�s fruit smoothies
I�ll head south.  The current plan is to follow the coast south all the way
to Acapulco,
then head inland. 

�Andele!
Phaedra
�85 Westy �Basecamp�
psavage@mexconnect.com

  

  

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