On that note… a HUGE thank you goes out to MJ for alerting me to the super cheap airfare a whopping SIX months ago! “A deal that comes along once in a decade,” as she put it and she’s right! I have been in the habit of comparing everything to that airfare… my recent orthotics purchase which will hopefully allow me pain-free trekking in the valleys and canyons cost me 1.54 NYC-Lima Round Trip Tickets. (NLRTTs). My recent travel gear purchases at Paragon Sports added up to 0.68 NYRTTs. My passport renewal fee equates to 0.27 NLRTTs. My ability to hem my own way-too-long-for-me trekking pants for the cost of some thread: priceless. You get the picture… it was a great deal!

Hopefully I’ll be able to update anyone who cares with some tales from the trails along with photos and HD video via this truly neglected blog site. You are welcome to vicariously and virtually join me in my journey below the equator. (For those uninitiated, blog reading is a great way to while away the hours while away at the office!)

I bid you farewell for now so I can continue where I left off on preparation panic. As usual, I’ve much to do and little time to do it. When next we “meet” it may very well be from a museum in Lima, a sand dune in Huacachina, a plane over the Nazca lines, an Incan temple in the Sacred Valley or a 2-mile high lake on the Bolivian border.

Oh yeah… and don’t forget to wish me a happy birthday when the time comes!

I climbed 19,340 feet to Africa’s highest point — Uhuru, the highest peak of the giant volcano’s crater rim over the course of 3 1/2 days. The first three days beginning on June 30th were truly enjoyable. I loved every minute of them. That last bit, though — well, that’s a different story.

The most difficult part, the final ascent, began at 12:07 AM on Saturday, July 3rd — yup, that’s the middle of the VERY COLD night, folks! We walked up the equivalent of 9 Empire State buildings lying at perhaps a 60 degree grade (we’re still trying to find the exact steepness) for more than 6 1/2 hours to reach Gilman’s Point, our first glimpse of the volcano’s crater rim. We reached Uhuru, the highest peak of the rim 2 hours later. The views were breathtaking — oh, hold it, we HAD no breath by this point!
But seriously, the glaciers and the crater were absolutely magnificent.

After celebrating and picture taking, we began our descent. We had to go down back to Kibo, the base camp from whence we came. I passed through the gate of base camp at 12:07 PM, exactly 12 hours to the minute from when we started. After sleeping for an hour and refueling with food, we continued our descent of what wound up to be 12 kilometers (we took the longer scenic route!) to Horombo, our base camp for the night. Imagine how well we slept that night!On the afternoon of July 4th, we all made it back down to the base of the mountain where those of us who reached the summit had our certificates filled out, to be presented to us by our guides later that evening.

I wish I could say that all of us who started together made it to the top, but climbing that mountain is hard and altitude does funny things to the human body. Much of it is a matter of stamina, much is a matter of will, but much of it is a matter of luck. If you fall ill, you must descend. I was fortunate enough not to have ever been sick. I was one of the lucky ones. I don’t know how I made it. There were dozens of times I thought I wouldn’t. I could just have easily turned around and descended before reaching the top. I certainly wanted to. I owe so many thanks to so many people — old friends and new, strangers whose names I’ll never know — because they inspired me to keep going. The trek was grueling beyond words.

I must agree with the dozen or so Kili veterans I talked to prior to my climb — it was, by far, the most difficult task I have ever undertaken, both physically and mentally — and it is the most rewarding thing I have ever done. I am still a bit in shock. I still don’t think it has completely sunk in yet. Every now and then, it hits me and I get choked up, but I think it will continue affecting me as time goes by.

I want to extend a very special thanks to my fellow summiters, Kristin, Mike and Brenda. If it weren’t for them, I probably wouldn’t have gone beyond Gilman’s Point. I didn’t think I could take another step, but that darn mantra “Gilman’s doesn’t count” certainly did the trick!

Rough itinerary:

• 4 days in London, hanging out with some old friends.
• Meet with rest of Africa group - fly to Tanzania via Nairobi, Kenya
• 10 days of safari through 4 national parks / conservation areas in Tanzania
• 5 days hiking up Mt. Kilimanjaro, africa’s highest point measuring 19, 341 feet (give or take)
• 2 days recuperating in Africa
• return home to NYC via Nairobi and London

Check in later. I will update this blog when possible.

I think it´s Friday — the day after Thanksgiving. I wouldn’t bet on it, though. You´re all Xmas shopping, I presume. Here I sit in Cuauhtémoc, a rather strange city full of Menonites and stores selling cowboy hats and boots in every color under the rainbow in all sorts of animal skins. I passed an occasional Tarahuamaran eating potato salad from KFC (yes, Kentucky Fried Chicken). Go figure. I think there are a couple of kids looking over my shoulder at the moment while I type. Hmmm… I think I´m an anomaly to them.

Anyway, I am alive and well and am having a banner time here south of the border. Apart from some scratches, a slightly twisted knee and about a zillion bug bites, all is groovy. The hiking in the canyons was an experience for the books. It was a LOT harder than I expected, but I did it! I loved camping out. It was absolutely beautiful there in the middle of nowhere. I think we were all a little disappointed when we resurfaced yesterday and saw our first automobile in 6 days. It was nice having no connection whatsoever to the “real” world. My hiking group was fantastic. I’ve said good-bye to most of them and I miss them already. The few of us that are here in the Land o´ Boots will be crossing the border into Texas tomorrow and I´ll be home the day after that.

At the beach I had a positively magnificent couple of days. As usual, I crammed too much in to too few days. I would have liked to have stayed on the coast a bit longer. I met some really interesting people there, too, and have a couple of really fun stories to tell. Also, an experience for the books. Nothing beats travel. What I’ve experienced in two weeks surpasses what I experience in 2 months of “normal” life.

So, I will write again with more detailed stories and will eventually have pictures to share, but I will be signing off now. Just wanted to send you a quick “Hi” from Méjico. It´s a great country, at least what I’ve seen of it. Put it on your list of places to see. I will certainly return.

¡Hasta luego!

So, I made it through Mexico just fine so far – planes, buses, cars, and now trains have taken me to all sorts of places.

I left Chacala yesterday late morning to catch the taxi and 2 buses I’d need to get me back to the Guadalajara train station. There I reclaimed my checked luggage, rearranged my packing a bit and got a cab to the airport to catch my plane for Los Mochis. (BTW – the Guadalajara departure section of the airport is quite nice.) My flight was without incident and upon arriving in Los Mochis I got a cab to my hotel, Hotel Fenix. For $25, it’s a great deal. I’d be spending only about 7 hours in the place so I just needed a decent place to lay my head. The Bible recommended it and so do I. I woke up at 4AM today to get a cab at 5AM to take me to the train station to catch the 6AM train. I had all sorts of anxiety dreams that I’d miss my train or oversleep or something. There was absolutely no problem at all. Back at home, I had pre-arranged a seat reservation for the Friday morning train rather than assuming a seat would be available when I arrived at the station. I knew I just had to be on this train. There is only one first-class train per day and if tickets sold out before I arrived at the ticket office, I’d be up that proverbial creek! Winds up I didn’t have to be so anal about it. Oh well. Whatever.

I’ve got myself a nice window seat for a trip that promises to be absolutely beautiful. The taxi driver told me the canyons are the 5th most beautiful natural sight in the world. I’m eagerly anticipating it. Right now we’re just leaving Los Mochis which I’ve been told is an unimpressive city. We’re riding by a kind of shanty town now. There are a few chickens running around, too much garbage and a house with strung up Christmas lights. From what I can tell so far, the Mexicans LOVE their Christmas decorations. They may not have running water, but they’ve got Christmas lights!

** Later on, Same day…

The train ride through the canyons was beautiful, but I must admit I expected to be wowed a bit more. We passed over several bridges and through even more tunnels. It truly is an engineering marvel. The train ascended over 6000 feet by the time I got off. The train itself was very nice. The seats all very plush and comfortable. There was a dining car with a bar and restaurant and a lounge area. I went to get some coffee and toast and sat in the dining car for a while. As I took my first sip of coffee, a young man sitting across the aisle from me asked me if I thought refills were free. I told him I didn’t know as this was my first cup of coffee and hadn’t thought about refills yet. Well “he” wound up being Tim and Tim and girlfriend Zita left their lives in Belgium behind for a year of traveling around the world. They were half way through when we met on the train in Mexico. We talked for a while there in the dining car. They were so very nice. They were taking the train to Creel, and hence would be on the train 2 hours longer than my 6½ hour trip would last. They would be wrapping up their year away in New York in June.

I returned to my seat and found I had a Mexican woman heading for Chihuahua, the end of the line, sitting in the seat next to mine. She was very pleasant. We talked a bit. She wondered why I didn’t have a husband. I can’t be exactly sure, but I think she was conveying to me that in Mexico you don’t just have one partner, but two. One you’re married to and the other you’re not. Then again, I may have completely made this up. It was a little difficult to understand her with the sound of the train in the background.

I got up from my seat again to stretch my legs and get some fresh air by standing in between the cars. There I bumped into my Belgian buddies again and we talked for a long while – it was a long train ride. We agreed to meet in NY if I was there when they passed through. They gave me their contact information. We agreed that although the canyons were beautiful, perhaps it was not all that necessary to spend too much time there. They had the flexibility of moving on from there when they felt like it. I, on the other hand, was starting to regret that I had booked so much time for this hike. Maybe it was too much time hiking in the canyons with people I didn’t know. Maybe I’d tire of it quickly. Well, there was no going back at this point. We shall see what the week of hiking will be like.

Back at my seat, Guillermo, one of the conductors who had stopped to chat with me several times during the train ride, sat next to me and asked me to join him for a tequila when I got off at my stop, as he was getting off at the same place. I told him thank you but explained that someone was meeting me at the station and I couldn’t keep him waiting. He was a character, this Guillermo. He told me he had two houses in Mexico – one at each end of the line – and when he learned I live in NY, he told me he had a house there too! Victor, another conductor, was sweet on the woman seated next to me. The two of these guys teased us that we could have a double wedding ceremony. Before I disembarked the train (an hour and a half later than the scheduled arrival time, by the way – I have no idea how that happened), Guillermo asked me for my phone number! In NY! I’m telling you, Mexican men have chutzpah.

On my way off the train I bid a final farewell to Tim and Zita. Tim blatantly asked me how old I was. Since he was so blunt with me, I felt it was completely acceptable for me to play the role of big sister to him. I told him not to ask women their age in the future, reminded him to tip when he stayed in NY and ordered him to quit smoking. I liked meeting those two very much. Hopefully our paths will cross again.

Many people were bustling around the train station in the very small town of Arepo. Somehow I found Rudy, the teenage son of the Mancina family that owned the small lodge where I was to meet the rest of my group. Two other fellow hikers also stepped off the train to be greeted by Rudy. Josh and Janey were from Manhattan as well. They had been sitting in the row directly in front of me during the whole train ride but we hadn’t exchanged any words until we met in the Mancinas’ van. We drove down the unpaved road to the lodge to meet the rest of the hikers which had driven to Arepo from El Paso, Texas.

In our next chapter we’ll find out more about my fellow hikers to the Copper Canyon…

I went back to the main beach and rented myself a lounge chair and set up camp for the next few hours. I took a dip in the ocean – the water was like bath water. I loved it. I stretched out on my chair and read for a while, watched some kids play in the calm waves, and listened to the music coming from a jukebox at one of the palapa restaurants nearby. The beach was buzzing more than it had been the afternoon before but was by no means crowded. It was just right.

I don’t know what time it was exactly – I refused to wear a watch – but I knew it was time for lunch. People were being served la comida, the mid-day and main meal of the day, and my stomach started to rumble. I thought about going to the same palapa as I had the night before to have the same perfect meal I had then. Why mess with perfection? But, I decided to give another place a try – a palapa called Acela. I was not disappointed. I had the local beer again and Camarones a la Cucaracha – shrimp cockroach style! Basically, it was just shrimp cooked in butter with picante (spicy sauce) with rice and beans and again those glorious homemade warm tortillas. I don’t know which meal was better – this shrimp dish or the fish I had the night before. I think they tie. I was in heaven.

As I finished up my lunch, I noticed another table of restaurant patrons nearby. Two people were obviously Americans and the other two were Mexicans. The American woman saw me and invited me to join them. I paid the bill for my meal and went to sit with these folks. The Americans turned out to be Lisa and her boyfriend Terry – both 42 years old from Olympus, Washington. The Mexicans were Luís and Francisco, two local fishermen born and raised in Chacala. Luís spoke very good English, having spent 3 years in the States. Francisco didn’t speak a word of English and the Americans spoke no Spanish, so Luís and I translated various parts of the ensuing conversation to whomever didn’t understand.

I spent the next several hours hanging out with this foursome. Lisa and Terry were enjoying their first vacation in many many years. They were truly kicking back and enjoying themselves which was nice to see. They were given this trip at no cost by Terry’s boss and were staying in a condo in the relatively nearby and more touristy town of Bucerías. They had driven to Chacala for the day and wound up spending the next two nights there! They had spontaneously met up with Luís who generously invited them into his home for as long as they liked and were enjoying their time in this small little beach town more than their comfy and modern condo back in Bucerías. They even discussed finding the local judge and getting married on the beach!

Everyone was very generous to me. We ordered several rounds of beer, a little tequila and some ceviche and watched the sun set over the ocean. No one would take money from me. A young boy approached the table hoping to sell some of his plastic bead bracelets and anklets. Lisa bought several from him and doled one out to each of us. (Mine has variously colored elephants and crescent (or is it gibbous, Jo-Jo?) moons for some reason.) Once the sun set we moved the party to the shore line and built a fire on the beach. We circled the bonfire with some chairs and watched the stars while we sipped our cervezas and chatted.

Luís is the captain of his fishing boat. Francisco, his assistant, calls him “General.” Luís’ fishing boat, or lancha, is probably about 27 feet long with a few slats to sit on and an outboard motor off the back. To be honest, there’s not really much to it. In any event, Luís invited me on his boat for his daily fishing excursion the next morning. Lisa and Terry had accompanied Luís and Francisco the previous morning out on the ocean and planned on joining the fishermen again. They convinced me to meet them at Luís’ house the next morning to experience a day in the life of a Mexican fisherman. “Morning” meant 3AM, so I bid everyone a goodnight after learning where Luís’ house was located and went to catch some shut eye.

I set my alarm for 2:30 AM and was able to sleep for a few hours. I woke up, grabbed my flashlight and walked down the cobblestone street to Luís’ house, avoiding the occasional growling dog that wasn’t all that pleased with my presence. All the while I thought that what I was doing was absolutely crazy. I told myself that if Lisa and Terry bailed on the boat trip that I, too, would go back home and return to sleep. Well, when I arrived at Luís’ house, Terry and Lisa were still sleeping and when we woke them up, they told us they were going to stay in bed and sleep. Uh-oh. Now what? Me and these two fishermen out in the middle of the ocean for several hours? Hmm… I’d have to rethink this. It sounded like an incredible opportunity, but now I was questioning things a bit more. I listened to my internal radar – I had a good feeling about Luís. I didn’t feel like I was in danger. To be honest, the thing that concerned me the most was the very real possibility that’d I’d get seasick out on the ocean. I’ve been known to get nauseous very easily once the boat drops anchor and the engine is shut off. Again, I thought about the craziness of this situation. And then I thought how necessary it is to have a little dose of crazy every now and then. I climbed into Luís’ truck and headed for the “pier.”

I learned that Francisco had a little too much tequila the night before and was unable to help on the boat the next morning. Luís therefore recruited his cousin Roberto to assist him with his fishing nets. Chavo, Luís’ little terrier, also joined us. He follows Luís wherever he goes. The four of us made the 2 minute drive to the pier and boarded the boat. Luís manned the engine in the back of the boat and Roberto and I chit-chatted at the front of the boat. I could understand his Spanish very well as opposed to Francisco’s which was a bit rougher. The sky was black, or course, but was speckled with zillions of stars. We motored out rather far into the ocean – far enough that we couldn’t see the shoreline in the darkness. We trolled the water while the fishermen released the net into the sea. The net was attached to a lit buoy on one end and to the boat on the other. The net stretched so far I could barely see the lit buoy floating far out on the water. Once the net was in the ocean, there was nothing much to do but wait until the sun rose at about 6AM when Luís and Roberto would retrieve the net and remove the fish caught in it. So, Luís took out a few mats and a whole bunch of blankets and laid them out on the deck of the boat. We all found a spot and lay down. Roberto seemed to sleep continuously for the next 2 hours. Luís slept but would wake up often to ensure that his net was not getting in the way of any passing boat. At no point did a boat approach us at all, but he told me that sometimes a larger boat will come close and mess up his net. I lay on the deck mesmerized by the stars above. I kept an eye out for shooting stars. I thought perhaps I saw one or two, but they were more than likely satellites. The water was rather calm, fortunately, and I was relieved that my stomach was handling the rocking water without a problem. It was like laying in a hammock.

Just before 6AM the sky began to brighten a bit. I sat up and anxiously awaited the sunrise over the hilly backdrop of the shoreline. It was so quiet there in the middle of the ocean. Pelicans (often called alcatraz in Mexico) flew all around us and bobbed up and down in the calm waters around our boat. The birds came so close to us and I was able to note that some had blue eyes and some had brown eyes. They were really beautiful and had what appeared to be soft pale yellow tufts of feathers atop their heads – like fine baby hair. I petted Chavo while I watched Roberto and Luís haul the fish-filled net from the water. (Chavo was a sweet dog, but was in need of a bath. Then again, so was I!) It took a full hour for the fishermen to pull the net back into the boat and pluck the fish from it and onto the floor of the boat. The radio was playing music and Roberto sang to just about every song as he worked. Poor thing also got stung on his forearms quite a bit by the jellyfish (called aguamala which means bad water) which got caught in the net as well. I was awestruck by everything I witnessed. The setting was surreal to me.

They caught about 60 fish, I’d say, and almost all were Siera fish – I don’t know what that translates to, but I know I had eaten one back on land the day before. Luís said it was neither a good nor bad fishing day. (Así así.) On our way back to land Luís spotted a fellow fisherman who was attempting to haul in his net by himself. Apparently this fisherman’s assistant also had too much to drink the night before and failed to show up for work. Luís spent about half an hour helping this guy pull in his fish. It is definitely a 2-man job. Those nets are heavy. While Luís helped his friend the fisherman (while getting stung by jellyfish himself), Roberto, Chavo and I sat on our boat. Roberto proceeded to get sick and vomited over the side of the boat. I don’t know if he was seasick or if he, too, had too much tequila the night before. I thought it best to leave him alone and not ask questions. I was granted one more very special treat before heading back to land. Luís spotted a mother and baby dolphin porpoising in the ocean. He steered the boat closer to them so I could get a better look at them. The whole morning was magical.

Back at the “pier” (I really can’t call it that – it was just a launching area on the beach) I climbed out of the boat with Chavo. Luís piled his catches of the day into some crates. Apparently, it was not a great fishing day for most other fisherman so relatively speaking, Luís did quite well for himself. There were several pickup trucks with scales to weigh the fish. Buyers from other towns and cities more inland (even as far away as Guadalajara) come to the beach every morning to purchase fresh fish to bring back home with them. Every fisherman kept a few fish for himself to bring to their families or perhaps to their own palapas on the beach. I watched all these transactions take place. I was the only gringo there. Heck, I was the only woman there! An older man approached me and asked me if I had gotten seasick. I proudly told him that I had not, and although I was tempted to do otherwise, I decided to keep Roberto’s purging a secret from the old man.

I bid Luís and Roberto a farewell and told them I’d find them later on at the beach. I wanted to get back to my room, have some coffee and pack up for my impending bus ride back to Guadalajara. On my walk up the cobblestone walkway to my B&B, Luís passed me in his truck. Roberto and Francisco were with him and they honked, waved to me and shouted my name as they drove by. I was glad to see Francisco had sobered up.

Back at my B&B I finally found my hostess Susana and we sat and had coffee and chatted for about an hour. I’m so glad we got a chance to spend at least a little time together. She is a fascinating woman and I really enjoyed talking to her. She originally hails from the Bay area in California, so it figures I’d like her! She shared with me her story of how she and her husband came to Chacala and the goings on in the town itself. (Apparently that cool yoga/spa/retreat place I mentioned earlier is not as cool and altruistic as I had thought it to be.) Susana does a lot of work improving the community and has plans to do even more. She is in search of bilingual people to assist her in her projects which made my wheels spin a bit. I shared with her my plans to see the world and she wholeheartedly supported me and encouraged me to be a positive ambassador of the U.S. Despite feeling ill, Susana was incredibly upbeat and optimistic. I would definitely stay at her home again.

I left the B&B and walked down into town with my bags hoping to find Luís, et al before catching the taxi colectivo to Las Varas in order to board a bus back to Guadalajara. I couldn’t find Luís, but I did see the taxi driver there in his van. It was a little earlier than I needed to leave, so I asked the taxi driver when he might be returning to Chacala to collect passengers. He said he wouldn’t be back for an hour or an hour and a half. I figured that really meant he might not be back for two hours or more and that would be cutting it too close for me. So, I had to hop in his van then without saying good-bye to Luís, which I felt very badly about. Before leaving Chacala, I did spot Luís’ cousin Ángela and I stepped out of the van for a minute to ask her to tell Luís that I had to leave sooner than I had planned and to tell him good-bye and thanks.

And that’s my story about my too short a time spent in a little fishing village by the sea. I’d like to return. It was an excellent place. Stay tuned for the next installment of my Mexican adventure… on the road to the Copper Canyons…

Bus ride #1 was eventless. It took almost an hour just to get to an open highway. A couple of times we’d make stops to let people on and allow street vendors to board the bus in attempts to sell food to the passengers. It’s pretty amusing to see the vendors go up and down the aisle while at the same time people are trying to board holding all their luggage. The vendors don’t care – anything to make a sale. 3 minutes after we stopped we stopped again so the driver could get a snack at 7-11. Whatever. It’s Mexico, land of the slow, we’ll get there when we get there. The buses in Mexico are surprisingly good, comfortable and cheap and will take you just about anywhere. Their service has been upgraded over the years to compete with the airlines. I took a first class bus which had all the amenities of a new and modern Coach at home, complete with movie and AC, etc. There are deluxe bus lines which have stewards and meals just like on a plane, but I think that’d be going overboard a bit. I watched the scenery as much as I could, but I must admit that sometimes I was drawn to watching the rather disturbing showing of “Final Destination” on the TV screens. Actually I just read the Spanish subtitles. (I had my Maná CD playing in my headphones to get me into the Mexican spirit.) The scenery was beautiful – vast amounts of green hills. Cactus would appear at times – prickly pear and some other kind as well (Organ Pipe or Pitaya). Corn fields were prevalent (imagine that!) as were, what I think are, blue agave plants. That’s what they make tequila out of.

We arrived in Tepic at what I thought was a 30-minute late arrival time when in reality we arrived 30 minutes early. Unbeknownst to me, we drove across a time zone change, so we gained an hour just like that! I don’t think I’ve ever driven across a time zone before. So get this – I was in Central time this morning and drove into Mountain time this afternoon. Thursday, I will drive back from Mountain to Central to catch a flight which will fly me back to Mountain time. I thought that the next day I’d train it in to Central time again, but apparently, there is no time change across the canyons. I’ll be in Mountain time until I return home, I suppose. It’d be cool if we hiked across a time zone, but that won’t be happening. I caught Bus #2 from Tepic to Las Varas. Buses leave every 20 minutes and I caught the one leaving at 1PM (actually it was more like 1:08. Whatever.) We weren’t even out of the city limits of Tepic when the bus driver said something about “gasolina”, took his shirt off (but not his rosary beads!) and played around with the underside of the bus. We started up again yet stopped again after a couple of minutes. The bus was not going to take us to where we wanted to go. So, we all got off the bus and waited for another one to pass by. You know that hour I gained? Well I lost just about all of it with these shenanigans. Whatever. We drove through mostly unpopulated areas with the exception of a town or two. I’ve seen a few stray dogs in Guadalajara and now in some of the little towns. None have seemed too mangy or sick. However, I did see one dog outside of Guadalajara during one of our bus stops which broke my heart. I won’t go into detail, but it looked like he was beyond repair. At that same moment the food vendors boarded the bus. I certainly would have lost any appetite I might have had after seeing this dog. I wish I could have taken him to the vet we passed a few minutes later and had him put down. He can’t be happy.

When we arrived in Las Varas I found the taxi colectivo, a van which carries about 8-10 people, to take me to Chacala. I had to wait half an hour to leave though, because the taxi driver said we had to wait for more passengers, which is understandable. I got dropped off and then walked up the hill to this paradise I’m in now.

It was my hope that Chacala would be one of those rare finds that I wouldn’t want to tell anyone about and keep all for myself. When I read about it, it sounded like a perfect place to escape; a place that is not that familiar to tourists, that’s quiet and pretty. This place has little phone service. I love that! It is a poor town of about 300 people. There are probably a dozen palapa restaurants along the shore. (Palapas are basically straw huts serving food.) There are one or two cobblestone streets on which there are a couple of small markets and a store or two selling trinkets and beach goodies. There are houses along the roads which are simple structures. A few stray dogs roam around along with several chickens and roosters (with the most beautiful feathers I’ve ever seen!) and a few goats. I was at first a bit disappointed to see the palapa area along the main bay’s shore line because it seemed a little cheap in a commercial way. Buildings still have Coca-Cola or Corona signs painted on their walls and each establishment is right on top of its neighbor. We shall see how I feel about the place when I’ve been able to spend some more time here. After settling in at my B&B, I walked down to the beach in hopes of snagging myself a cerveza and some dinner. I chose one of the dozen palapas on the beach called 3 Hermanos (brothers). The town isn’t too busy, apparently, as most places were empty, but then again, I arrived for dinner rather late. Anyway, I had the local beer (Cerveza Pacífica) and what was one of the best meals I’ve ever had: whole fish (yes, head, tail, bones, etc.) cooked in garlic with homemade salsa, rice (with some spice) and a bucket of homemade tortillas. I made little fish tacos with the tortillas and put a little salsa picante on them. (You can’t have a meal in Mexico without something picante!) Oh so good!! And the best part was that I sat there under a straw covering watching the waves roll in with the fishing boats out in the distance on the ocean while the sun set. Not a bad introduction to Mexico’s Pacific coast. I can’t wait until tomorrow to do it all over again. I had thought of dining at this very nice hotel on a hill in Chacala, but now I think they can’t offer me anything better than fresh fish and beer right on the ocean. Oh, and you can’t beat the price – about US$4.50!

There seems to be just enough to do here in Chacala to make it interesting yet doesn’t have all the flashy high-rise kind of atmosphere that the majority of coastal towns possess. I, however, intend to do nothing for the next day or so. But, I could hike or look at petroglyphs, or go bird watching. In another month I could have gone whale watching. There is an interesting center here called Mar de Jade which is a retreat center offering yoga, Spanish classes and a spa. I think I’ll just be a beach bum – maybe go snorkeling at the most.

One interesting thing that Chacala has is a program called Techos de Mexico (Roofs of Mexico.) It’s similar to Habitats for Humanity. It’s a community project which handles the creation and promotion of homes to be used as tourist facilities, in part. The community builds a home for a family. The family lives in one half and rents out the other half to tourists. Once the house is paid off all revenue belongs to the family hosting the guests. There are about 6 families who partake in the program. A new library (or learning center) was recently built here, too. There’s also some kind of volunteer medical program here. Lots of volunteer opportunities in this little town.

I have a huge cricket on the wall of my room. I wonder if he has been to Times Square. (Anyone know the book I’m referring to?) I wonder if he wouldn’t mind leaving! I’d rather not be kept up all night with his chirping.

I’m due to check out of my hotel in Guadalajara within the hour. I’ll be off to the sunny shores of the Pacific. I can’t wait. I’m ready to leave Guadalajara. I liked it very much and would definitely return and I recommend visiting. It’s a lovely city. But, like most cities, it’s a hubbub of activity. People and cars are everywhere. I basically just walked around a LOT! (Actually, I’m a bit concerned because my knee is bothering me a bit.) People aren’t rude. In fact, those who have spoken with me have been quite nice. But I’ve encountered the same frustrations here as I do at home – people don’t move out of the way, there’s always someone who needs change for the bus or worse, to feed their family. I guess I’m just ready for some “intense relaxation” which is hopefully what I’ll find at the beach. Granted, I did not go to the museums here. Monday was my day to stroll the city itself and most museums are closed on Mondays. I did not partake in the nightlife, either. Being alone and more of a “day person” than a “night person” means I missed out on some fun stuff, I’m sure. I haven’t even had a cerveza or a tequila. Oh well – next time. Who’s going to accompany me then??!!

Then I was off to stroll the city streets for the last time. I walked past the University area to a section of the city called La Zona Rosa which is meant to be a bit of an upscale residential and business district. There were some decent looking restaurants, but for the most part, I was unimpressed with the area. Nevertheless, it was a nice walk away from the more bustling central area.

Next I walked to a kind of quirky area called Nueve Esquinas (Nine Corners). The Bible stated that some of the city’s best restaurants are located here, again, away from the touristy city center. This area had a few nice small plazas and small residential streets which I explored. The restaurants, however, served very meaty meals so again, I passed on those. I wound up back in the city center and just took a seat in a central zócalo and people watched for a while. I was actually a bit bored. I had run out of things to do. And then I realized that sitting there watching the world go by was rather fun.

Some observations about the Guadalajara area in particular:

Like I said, there are lots of zócalos (plazas) and pedestrian malls, many of which have gazebos or fountains – LOTS of fountains! They’re all different and are very pretty, but inevitably, their bottoms and sides are painted blue as if they were public pools. Some fountains have pipes that stick out to create a certain effect and they, too, are painted blue. I guess they’re painted for some practical reason, but it takes away from their appeal.

Babies – there are tons of babies around. Everywhere I go there are many women toting babies, which brings me to my next observation…

Weddings – I saw three different weddings in the chapel next to my hotel. People (generally) get very dressed up for them – except for this one guy who sat in the back of the church in red, white and blue shorts and t-shirt. He was with a very stylish woman who wore a sexy black dress. Weird. Seems like long hair that flips out on the ends (think “That Girl”) is “in.” And now for…

Wedding dresses – I have never seen so many stores selling wedding dresses and, for the princesses-to-be, I assume either Communion or flower girl dresses. These shops are concentrated in a particular area not far from my hotel. (One shop was called Novia Laura.) Apparently, what is in fashion are HUGE dresses. The bigger and poofier the better. Some styles are going back to the 1800s with cinched sleeves, antique yellow-ish fabric, lace and ribbons. These women look like marshmallows or parade floats! Vera Wang would have a heart attack if she saw this stuff. I found another pocket of wedding dress stores near the University area. I wonder why that is. I hope the mentality is not, “Yes dear, you go get an education as long as you remember that the best degree you can get is an MRS.”

Speaking of dress, The Bible says that places inland, such as Guadalajara, dress “more conservatively.” I guess compared to the beach, yes. I mean, people aren’t roaming the streets in bathing suits. But conservative? Hmm. I don’t think that’s the word for it. Women and girls are wearing belly tops, exposing their midriffs (whether they have the stomach for it or not.) Strappy and low cut shirts are the norm. Girls wear jeans barely covering their panty lines and 12-year olds are wearing sweatpants with words and labels stamped across their asses. It’s just like home. Guys are casual, not particularly well-dressed. I suppose some are. There are many men, mostly older ones, in cowboy-like attire. Some have shirts with tassels, some wear those rope ties like the Texas oil tycoons, many more wear wide brim hats and some wear cowboy boots which leads me to another strange observation…

Shoe Shine stalls – they are EVERYWHERE. I suppose it would make sense to have so many if everyone wore cowboy boots, but I’d say only 10% of the men do. But these stalls pop up everywhere. In one large zócalo, I counted 32 stalls. The surrounding zócalos had their share of stalls, too, as do many small side streets. How these people make a living shining shoes when the city is inundated with shoe shine stalls is beyond me.

Cars – many of the cars we have in the U.S. exist in Guadalajara as well. There are minivans, SUVs, Oldsmobiles, Chevys, Toyotas, Hondas – I even saw a stretch limo just like at home. (The streets of Mexico have been spared of the incredibly ugly Hummer thus far.) There are still some older cars. I saw a couple of Pacers or maybe Gremlins today. I notice the seatbelt rule is not in effect here, or at least, not many pay attention to it if there is one. 3-year old kids bop around in the backseat – no seatbelt, no car seat, no booster seat. Some cars don’t appear to have seat belts at all. Fortunately, the city is not filled with that awful diesel air I experienced in Costa Rica’s cities. Old Volkswagen Beetles are VERY prevalent on the streets here in all colors. Some are in very good condition, others have seen better days. Many are used as commercial vehicles and are customized with logos, etc. The Mexicans call the VW Bug the “Vocho”. It doesn’t seem that the new Beetle has made its way to Mexico yet. However, I walked by a toy store window and saw that Mexican Barbie does indeed have her own set of keys to a brand new VW Beetle. Funny. You go girl! İVete, chica!

I failed to mention the weather here in Guadalajara is ideal! I love it! There are those of you who would find this to be too warm. It has probably been in the 80s every day and dips into the 50s at night, although it has felt warmer than that. To me, it’s perfect. And if I do say so myself, I have had some excellent hair days here!

Tomorrow I leave the city for the beach…