It used to be that I never really thought much about Mexico. It was one of those places that other people went, and it was one of those places that we went only on relocation cruises – never once have I actually worked a mexico run, though I know they exist, and the bigger ships on the line do them on a regular basis – it’s just that I’ve always been somewhere else during that time of year. For a lot of the crew Puerto Vallarta is a supply stop – there’s a Wal-Mart directly across the street from where the ship docks, and since we’ve usually come off several sea-days, most of us make a bee-line to stock up on everything from toiletries to air-freshener.
So until today, I can’t say I’d really seen Puerto Vallarta. As it turns out, I had no idea what I was missing. I owe the repair of this vast gap in my knowledge to Nikki, who many years ago was one of my (many) dance teachers, and who moved to Puerto Vallarta some years back. The two other times I’ve ported here I’ve tried to meet up with her, but the timing has never worked out (at one point she was back in Canada while I was in Mexico, which did neither of us any good). She scooped me up at the ship today and went from there.
What strikes you first is the colour really. The entire city is so colourful, everything is bright. Nowhere is this more evident than in the La Paroquia de Nuestra senora de Guadalupe. If churches back home looked like this well…I’d probably be tempted to spend more time in their company. I’ve been fortunate enough to see a lot of cathedrals in my travels, from the sweeping arches of Westminster to the ruins of what was once the one that stood on the grounds of Glastonbury Abbey – but I’d never seen one quite like this. It was …confectionery…and where I’m used to walking into a church and seeing carved heavy stone, the inside of La Paroquia is a brilliant blinding white trimmed with gold. The best I comparison I could make is that it’s…ice cream colours. And I don’t mean that in a disrespectful way at all, it was stunning it was so different from what I was used to! The really wonderful thing about it, is that the statues are wooden, not stone, and they’re painted – so you get the sense that you’re looking at real people, kind people, rather than the ‘traditional’ imposing edifices. If Bernini had worked in wood instead of marble, perhaps the product would feel something like this…
From the sublime of course you journey to the ridiculous – one of the many restaurants along the main boardwalk was selling everything from fried snickers bars to fried butter (no I’m not kidding) – so I can now say I’ve finally had a fried chocolate bar. Terrible for the diet I’m trying to stick to (and probably not so good for the designer bathing suits I bought today either for that matter) but so very definitely worth it. Now the Hibiscus water on the other hand was probably a lot better for me…
I suppose I should also mention the superficiality that is shopping for a designer bathing suit. Normally these things would be well out of my price range (the last bikini I bought, which has served me faithfully for the last year and a half, cost me $20 at Bluenotes)…but Nikki’s sister is a swimsuit designer, and as such things became a little more attainable. I now actually own a swim suit that fits me, and I’m almost afraid to go in the water with it – but that’s beside the point.
The main boardwalk itself has just been redone and is truly lovely, statues everywhere – including of course, the famous seahorse that is the symbol of the city. I once again succeeded in killing my camera’s battery…and along the way I even ran into friends from my last ship, which I have to say was very unexpected indeed.
And then I flew.
No really I did!
Granted, I was wearing a parachute and attached to a very long rope which was attached to a speedboat but still…
The only part of para-sailing that’s terrifying is the take off, the split second where your feet leave the ground and you realize that there is no going back. Once you get up there it’s wonderfully peaceful (that is, it is as long as you don’t think about how high up you are). There’s no sound at all, no wait, I correct myself, there’s no noise. All the day to day background noise that we become used to just disappears when you’re that high up. No whirring engines, no people talking at you, nothing pressing in on you. Just you, and the wind, and the water waaaaaaaaaaaaay below you. I think the reason I wasn’t scared was because I was attached to a parachute, should the rope attaching me to the boat have snapped, I’d still be attached to the parachute…which would likely do a great deal to slow my plummet to the ground.
So now I’ve zip-lined, para-sailed and gone hot-air ballooning, it’s possible that the next thing might just be jumping out of a perfectly good airplane…