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Once we entered the property we had to find Fernando. We didn’t know Fernando yet but we had to find somebody. The office had a rusty padlock on it. Sharon found this somewhat short, sweaty guy, working on something with a power tool in the furthest cabaña from the office. That was Fernando.
We discussed our needs and Fernando led us to bungalow #10. It seemed suspiciously like it was the exact same bungalow from 15 years ago. In fact everything looked like it was from 15 years ago. From the plumbing to the fridge it was a museum piece displaying the effects of rust. We decide to go for what’s behind door number 9.
Bungalow 9 was much improved. The kitchenette was fairly functional. The toilet did what it’s supposed to do. The only real exception was another rusty fridge which Fernando promptly carted out and replaced with a shiny new one. He then spent the next 4 hours peeling off the plastic protective film. We suspected it had been a new fridge for quite a while and the film wanted to be a permanent part of the finish.
The brand was MABY (Mah’ – beh) but, knowing our typical luck, Sharon and I decided it was the “Maybe” brand. Honey, is the beer cold? – Maybe.
This machine was a continuous gurgle of noises. Some sounded like actual refrigeration in action. Others, reminiscent of a FAX machine. It wasn’t loud but MABE wanted you to know it was there for your convenience and don’t you forget it.
Turns out MABE has an impressive freezer. We bought some raw chicken for an upcoming dinner to be masterfully prepared in our kitchenette. I think the refrigerators must have different purposes in Mexico. Below the freezer was a vary large section that must be the butter thawing compartment. If you wanted to keep something at room temperature, MABE will meet your needs. Great freezer though. MABE we’ll go out to eat.
Super Salsa
Once Fernando finished up as much film scrapping as he could stand, we started stewing up our own salsa. We filled the compound with the aroma of garlic, onions and serrano peppers. I’m not one to brag but… mighty tasty! We filled a large baggie with what was left over and kept it at ready to eat temperature, thanks to the “maybe” fridge.
December 15. We walked straight out the back of the complex to the beach for morning walk up the coastline. Another nice thing about San Patricio is this beach. It is not “typical”. You pass people only occasionally and the few that you do are always friendly. There’s no floating garbage washing up on the shore. No seaweed. It’s refreshingly beautiful. The beach enters the ocean at an angle that allows every 7th wave to crash with a concussive blast, actually shaking the sand beneath your feet. Seashells don’t stand a chance. They’re pulverized into atoms and wash up shore to become sand.
That afternoon we met our neighbors. Don, Karen, Tony and Morag. Tony and Morag got here ten days ago and are staying till April. They’re getting away from the frozen north at their home on Vancouver Island, (I think). Tony has whipped out a couple of “rescue” instruments, like a mandolin and some funky gourd thingy. Morag has a cool martini glass so I automatically like her. Don and Karen have travelled many parts of Mexico and are also here for an extended period. They’re from Northern Washington State; practically Canada. Collectively Bungalows Azteca has been their regular winter roost.
We all gathered to watch the sunset. Don pointed out another group doing the same; watching the sunset and getting away from their snow blanketed homes. Everyone, just gazing west. Our faces orange. The theme song from “City of Angels” was playing in Sharon’s head.
December 16. Again, we hit the beach, walking south just like we did the previous day but this time, much, much further. The waves were magnified today. We walked barefoot for a mile or so, past a large fresh water lagoon to an area call Barra de Navidad.
Barra reminded me of a Disney theme village, like the “Mexican Villa” part at EPCOT center. This is where people can brag about their purchased “adventures” but are too afraid to leave the security of their expensive hotel room. The spiciest thing on their room service meal is catsup. Okay, I’ll stop.
It took us a good hour or so to walk to Barra. We found a spot for breakfast just outside the EPCOT cloister. Afterwards we walked through the “safe zone” to the malecon. A malecon is like a boardwalk along a lake or coastline, except this one is cement. It’s called Barra because this is like a peninsula. At the end of the peninsula was their huge city Christmas tree and the launch to the Grand Isla Navidad Resort. The only way to get there is by the boats at the launch. Or, you could look at it as a moat, protecting the guests from the locals. Expensive and kinda sad. Okay, I’ll stop. Again. Feet being a little tender, we took a collectivo back to San Patricio.
The morning walk left us sandy and salty, especially from this one powerful rouge wave. We went to the pool to freshen up. I lasted maybe 6 seconds. My gasp convinced Sharon to not jump in.
Just north of here is the quaint little village of Cuastecomate. So we hopped into the car to go explore. It’s on the other side of a coastal mountain. It was a quick but scenic drive. This place was tiny, clean and welcoming. There were only four streets, all leading to the coastline and a poorly maintained boardwalk that took you past all of the palapa’d restaurants. We picked one, had a few beers, some guacamole n’ chips and proceeded to shew away a constant stream of vendors. Hammock, señor? Jewelry, lady? Still, it was a nice visit and the view was exquisite. I didn’t take any pictures so imagine it as you wish. Have fun with it.
