Misadventures Around Puerto Vallarta
Mexico. Confused, lost, misunderstood, homesick. Let’s just say, the first few days didn’t go too well. But in all fairness, it wouldn’t be so bad if we weren’t so… unusual. You see, normal tourists rent a hotel BEFORE they get to Mexico. But we were too smart for that. In our defense, we did try; We arrived in Mexico after a 2.5 hour flight - and convincing the airport that we weren’t going to try to hijack the plane with my toothbrush - to the surprising news that our hotel wasn’t what it had seemed on the Internet. (This came as quite a shock to us since we knew that if we read it on the Internet, it must be true.) The Internet’s infallibility notwithstanding, the best comparison for our 3 star hotel was trying to fit three beds into a refrigerator. Our conclusion was that in Mexico the star system, like the peso, is devalued by a factor of ten. Hence our 3 star hotel would be have 0.3 stars in the states.
But I admit, the first few days weren’t all bad. And the parts that were lousy, in all fairness, were mostly our fault. And if nothing else, this trip has taught us the value of some things that we have taken for granted back home. Like hot water. Washcloths. Elevators. Toilets that flush. Air conditioning. Taco Bell.
It is strange the things that stand out to you on your first visit to foreign countries like Louisiana and Mexico.
Case in point; one of Mexico’s most salient features to me was… you guessed it – speedbumps. You see, when driving in Mexico you’ll see signs that state when to turn, where to turn, how fast to go – little details like that. And to the casual tourist nothing seems out of the ordinary. But when you actually drive yourself in Mexico you soon realize that they don’t actually USE the traffic signs, they just put them there because all the other countries have them. Seriously, driving the speed limit here is never done. I have yet to see anyone driving within 20 kph of the speed limit.
So road signs are largely ignored. All Mexicans know this. But be that as it may, there are times, yes, even in Mexico, when you really are supposed to slow down. And for these times they use road bumps. If they are really serious they will use a bunch of them. For example, before entering a small town I saw no less than 30 small speed bumps, spaced 6 feet apart, punctuated by a (40 KPH) road sign and a BIG speed bump.
Then there is another way of making sure you are aware of the speed limit – repetition. In another small town we were advised to slow to 40 KPH (about 25 MPH) and to show that this sign was meant to be obeyed was obvious from the enormous speedbump that scraped the undercarriage of our rented Jetta. 20 feet down the road we encountered another 40 KPH sign, and another monster speed bump. 20 feet down the road… you guessed it. Another sign, another bump. All in all, in 100 feet we saw 5 speed bumps and 5 40 KPH signs.
But not to worry. These indications can safely be ignored too, with a bit of local know-how. In this case, by driving on the wrong side of the road until the speed bumps have been cleared. This is not recommended in cases where oncoming traffic is likely.
Since noone pays any attention to road signs, it is senseless to waste precious tax-payer dollars, er, pesos, on cleaning them. And this brings me to a very important lesson, on the subject of road signs. Do not trust them. One road sign might say 67 kilometers to Puerto Vallarta. The next, less than a minute later, might say 96. And then there are street addresses! We literally drove by 5 houses on the same street, with numbers as follows: 1506, 1309, 1428, 901 and 1112. Sequential house numbers are evidently a luxury that we take for granted at home.
But really, we’ve had a good time all things considered. The dollar doesn’t go as far here as it used to, though. Particularly in the case of Hotels, you often pay first-world-price for third-world-quality. Even in relatively out-of-the-way places. Ah, and that reminds me of something that happened to us a few days ago… it went like this…
We were driving south from Puerto Vallarta hoping for a Hotel that was less touristy and less expensive. IE, a second-world hotel for a second-world price. Unfortunately, we, like the unfortunate stock-market gambler, were always waiting for something just a little better and, like him, wound up trying to save our skins and wanting to jump out of a window.
Once out of Puerto Vallarta we found fewer and fewer, and finally zero hotels. But by the time we were sure of this, we had already gone too far towards our destination, a breezy 2 ½-3 hour drive (or so the locals told us) to turn back. This was at about 7pm. Suffice it to say that at 11pm we were still not to our destination, and were still looking for a hotel to bed down for the night.
And so not surprisingly when we saw a sight that said “Hotel Allende – Right 3 km” (In Spanish of course) we grasped at the opportunity to sleep for the night – regardless of the quality of the accommodations. So we turned off onto what appeared to be a little-used dirt road. And drove. And drove. After at least 5 kilometers, just when we were ready to turn around and go back to the main road we found a tiny little Mexican village. Despite the late hour there were a half-dozen people setting out in front of the local Mini-super, which passes for the 7-11 in Mexico. You can buy anything here from Papayas to Tequila.
But back to the point, we saw few other signs of life so I asked, in broken Spanish, if there was a hotel here. They acted like I was from Mars and said in a very strange voice “the Hotel… Allende??” I said “Yes…” They pointed and said take that road and stay to the left and go another 3 kilometers, and pointed to a tiny dirt road we hadn’t even noticed before going out of town. Incidentally, everything is always another 3 kilometers, or 6 more blocks, or 10 more minutes away in Mexico. And of course, when you arrive at 3k, 6 blocks, or 10 minutes, it’s STILL another 3k, 6 blocks, or 10 minutes away. Strange. But again, back to the story…
And so we followed this dirt road, through mud puddles and potholes big enough to bury a greyhound in (the bus, not the just the dog), for the 3 more kilometers indicated by the villagers. As we left we could see them trying to hide their smiles and knew that the gringos were the topic of tonight’s joke. We hoped that Gringo Stew wasn’t going to be the punchline. Anyway, our fears were unfounded for what did we find at the end of that road but a huge, brightly lit guardhouse!
This guardhouse, though clearly not military, was obviously designed to keep your average wandering villager out. This beautifully lit guardhouse was surrounded by neatly kept flowerbeds and trees and was manned, even at this hour, by an alert guard – who even spoke english! Well, I asked him if we could have a room for tonight and again got the impression I was being laughed at. In fact, I was sure of it. Nonetheless he quite soberly informed me that the rooms were available by reservation only. I explained to him that it was 11:30 and we were tired, and were there no exceptions, but he wasn’t to be persuaded. He was however nice enough to give me a brochure in case I wanted to return sometime with a reservation.
Taking his brochure and encouraged by his promise that Melaque wasn’t too much farther down the road and would be sure to have hotels, we returned over the same bad road as before, wondering what on earth we had stumbled into. A religious compound? A nudist colony? As we returned to the main highway we again passed the villagers who had by now gathered in a large crowd to watch, wave, and laugh at us. This time they made little attempt to hide the fact that we were really very funny.
Curiosity got the better of me and so I started reading the brochure by flashlight. It described a tropical paradise of seclusion and beauty, the perfect place to relax and get away from it all. And the more I read, the more I thought that this would be a perfect place to spend some time here in Mexico. It even had an airstrip, (not that I expected to need that), meals were included, you name it. And the prices were even great! The rooms cost between 800 and 1400 a night, which was normal for a place of this quality, as most hotels started at about 500 pesos (50 USD) a night where we’d been.
And then my dreams of first world quality at a second world price were shattered as I noticed a tiny notation at the bottom of the page “All prices quoted in US Dollars”. Looked at in light of this new information it became clear that we wouldn’t be staying at this charming secluded getaway in the near future. Apparently, it was a place designed so that movie stars can hang out away from the cameras and where businessmen can meet to close a deal when they need privacy for a top-secret plan. Since we fit neither of those categories, we cruised on down the road, a little wiser and a little tired-er
However, we soon discovered that, like Mexican road signs and distances, Mexican times are also relative. As a Mexican security guard once told me while I was waiting for my ride to pick me up in downtown Puerto Vallarta… I had commented to him that they would be picking me up in 20 minutes, and he said “ah si, Senor, but ees that Mexican minutes or American minutes? Because if eet is American minutes the time she be come and gone like that, but if she be Mexican minutes could be sometime tomorrrrrow, si”
That happened just a few minutes before Jimi Hendrix came up to us and tried to borrow money for a beer. At least, he claimed to be Jimi Hendrix, and for all I know he could have been. Although he seemed too drunk to be trusted to know his real name. Of course, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t Jimi Hendrix. All these things notwithstanding, it was an interesting trip to the south and even fun, in a masochistic sort of a way.
In a small town, Melaque, we were cruising through the deserted back streets to discover the “real” Mexico, we discovered an Iguana perched on a post. I, being me, worked my way close enough to it to grab it’s tail, all the while with it puffing it’s chin at me. I think it was quite impressed with itself. Anyway, we were on our way to being close pals when a local walked along, about 15 feet away, and yelled out “Ay, listo para comer, Senor!”, which means “Hey, ready to eat!”, with a knowing grin and a wink.
I kid you not, the minute that Mexican said “Comer” that Iguana jumped about 20 feet into the bushes and refused to let me approach him again! He clearly spoke spanish and did not relish the idea of becoming… well, relish. Or whatever they make Iquanas into.
Anyhow, next we started out from Puerto Vallarta for Lago de Chapala. Did I mention that the locals ignore road signs? Well, Mexican officials found a way around that. They put up another road sign, saying “OBEY ROAD SIGNS”.
The irony of putting up a sign to remind people not to ignore road signs is priceless. That this sign was often ignored was clear from the fact that a few hundred yards down the road we saw another sign “Obey road signs”. That neither of these signs had the desired effect upon the locals, and indeed, was producing a negative attitude in local drivers, was evidenced by the next road sign, which said:
“DO NOT MISTREAT ROAD SIGNS”
A sign telling people not to abuse signs telling people to obey signs… yeah, let’s see you top that.
But as I said, we were on the way from PV to LC. Along the way we saw many fruit stands, ate my first home-grown pineapple (I know it was home grown because it had a bug’s home in it!), and bought a fruit that looked like a cross between a giant green hedgeapple and a peanut. The locals informed me that it was called a Yaka and assured me that it tasted sweet and good, like a Papaya, Mango, or a Melon. It weighed about 10 pounds and smelled like a cross between a rose garden and old gasoline. Unfortunately, it tasted like a cross between a raw squash and tree bark. I gave the unused portion, (which consisted of all of it minus one bite), to a grateful local who beamed at the generous American. Me. She did concede that this one was a little bit green, so I may give this odd looking fruit one more chance. But not tonight. Tonight we eat the old standby in Mexico, fresh corn Tortillas, refried beans, Tomato, Avocado, and Salsa.
You know, we had more trouble finding the simplest things in Mexico. Some things that we take for granted, even some we assume came from Mexico, don’t exist here. Like Tomato Salsa. It is much harder to find that here than in Texas. Butter is practically nonexistent, and even Margarine is uncommon. But what surprised us most is that there is absolutely no cream. Half-and-half. Coffee creamer. None. Oh, they have stuff they call cream (well actually, they call it crema) but it is the consistency of banana pudding and tastes like sour cream that isn’t sour. Yeah, I know, it makes no sense, but trust me – it isn’t cream. Even imitation coffee creamers are few and far between.
On the other hand, Mexico does give you some things that are long lost in America. Like motels that use keys, not pieces of magnetized plastic. The doors don’t auto-lock behind you every time you leave the room without the keys. The independent stores, stands, and supermarkets outnumber the nationwide chains owned by Wal-mart. You can actually buy locally grown produce at the farmer’s market, not produce that was shipped in from California and sold at the farmer’s market and then sold at 20% above the retail value. The people are friendly and the vast majority of them are actually smiling as they work – a thing that has long since vanished where I come from.
But despite all of that, it is hard to overcome the culture shock and deal with the totally different and often totally illogical way things are done here. Not that the US doesn’t have it’s own eccentricities, but I know what most of those are. But here… well, when you get directions, whatever you are being directed to is always 6 blocks away. Of course, it is almost never where you are told it is. But it is always 6 blocks away. You can’t blame the people too much though, because even the signs are wrong. For example, today we saw one sign saying “Chapala – 12 KM”. 3 KM down the road, while traveling TOWARDS Chapala, we encountered a sign saying “Chapala – 17 KM”!
And standing head and shoulders above all these experiences is one that is so complicated I’m not even sure I can capture it on paper. Webpage. Computer screen. You know what I mean. Anyway. It happened like this; we had come into Guadalajara to go to Wal-Mart and Sam’s for serious shopping before going to Chapala. Although the map showed Guadalajara having a loop, and we were looking for it, we never saw anything that remotely resembled a loop. As a result, we wound up taking a spur into downtown Guadalajara.
A sample of typical Guadalajaran road signs. These were not the exception, but rather the rule, in Guadalajara. And indeed, much of Mexico. 
On the way, we noticed Sam’s on the right, but naturally, we had already missed the exit. The next exit was about a mile down the road. Taking it, we began our experience in what I can only describe as a “unique” city. Imagine trying to drive in Dallas, Texas except that it seemed that all the roads were one way – the wrong way – and when we finally did find a road going the right direction, it dead-ended and we had to take a one way street – the wrong way – to get back where we started.
After doing this for 30 minutes, asking the locals, and going the by-now-familiar 6 blocks several times, we sighed with relief to find Sam’s and Wal-mart… only to discover that the real adventure was just beginning. See, apparently, in this part of the country they charge for parking. Now that by itself seems innocuous, but their manner of collecting fees was… well, just nuts.
We approached this enormous parking lot, with Wal-Mart and Sam’s on the one side and Sears and a mall on the other. This is the parking lot of the largest Wal-Mart in the Western Hemisphere, and assuming that it functioned in a way reasonably similar to American pay-parking lots (this was our mistake, by the way) we pulled up to the computerized gate, pressed a button, and received a ticket that looked like a credit card on a diet, magnetized strip and all. Parking for the first 15 minutes was free, 50 cents per half-hour or so after that.
Well, after driving around this intricate, complicated parking lot full of islands, lanes, and arrows (many of which pointed directly to a curb and went nowhere) we discovered that this parking lot was cut in half – and, (big surprise here), we were in the wrong half. So we set about skirting the many hazards in this man-trap and finally found the exit lane. Along the way we deduced that by designing a parking lot this way they ensured that people would never get out without paying for parking. Just finding a way to a parking lot through the maze would take all the time that was free!
Pulling in, we placed the card we had received at the first, about 10 minutes ago, in the appropriate slot, expecting to pass easily through the gate. Hah! There seems to be no end to our Naivete. Naturally, the machine immediately spat the card back out. We turned it over. Same result. Next we tried end-for-end, up-side-down, backwards, we were about ready to try folding it in half when a merciful local took pity on us and came to help us use it. Of course, it rejected it when he tried to use it too. All this time, of course, there were cars piling up behind us waiting to exit this Minotaur’s lair. Impatiently.
Well, through broken Spanish and animated gestures, we finally deduced that the key to exit lay within the Mall itself. Pun intended. So, waving the traffic back out of our lane behind us (who, no doubt, were thinking “Yankee, go home!”), we went to the mall. Asked a security guard, who pointed out a machine that looked like it belonged in Goldfinger, into which I placed the card. It accepted it, validated it, and at last! We exited our first Mexican pay parking lot!
… only to enter our second. Fortunately, by now we were wise, received a new card from the Wal-Mart lot, who doesn’t charge at all for the first 2 hours, and did our shopping and left with minimal ado. Of course, since everyone had forgotten to get the new card validated I did have to go back into the exit of Sam’s and take it back to the checkout counter and get it stamped, but… these things happen. The moral of the story is… travelers, beware of pay parking lots in Mexico. Although I have to admit that this was one of the most frustratingly, ironically, funniest things that has happened to us yet.
Next we finally arrived in Chapala. Nothing of particular interest happened here. By now we were jaded to the normal things, and almost stopped missing those little things that we take for granted in the States. Like toilet paper in bathrooms. Or toilet seats. Or toilets that flush. Or, for that matter, toilets.
As we wrapped up our trip making a large circle back south into Manzanillo and finally Puerto Vallarta, Mexican roads said goodbye in the form of a large cow. Actually, I think it was a bull. It’s hard to tell now since at the time most of the occupants of our car were too busy screaming to remember. By this time we had driven nearly 1000 miles in Mexico, and had always wondered why we saw so many of those road signs with the shape of a cow on them.
It was bound to happen, and one day it did. Mexico reminded us that every now and then one of it’s road signs are meant to be taken seriously. Inevitably, (nowhere near a cow crossing sign, of course) a large bull stood on the roadside. He looked at us, then the road, then us. Then, as we careened at 60kph towards the bull, he walked right out in the middle of Mexico’s equivalent of a state highway. We decided this was as good a time as any to test out the rental car’s brakes and I am happy to say that they do work well. Moral of the story: watch for cows. And other large animals and objects in the road.
Having traveled this 200km stretch of Mexican road 3 times now, we decided to try and test out the local’s advice in the form of travel time. We had been told by several people that it would taken 2.5 hours to travel the 120 mile road. At the end of this experiment of driving as fast as reasonably possible with a modicum of safety, including traveling the traditional 20kph over the speed limit required by the other traffic, we came to a conclusion about Mexican travel times. That conclusion is that in Mexico, travel times are calculated for people driving a Ferrari on a dry road with a death wish. And absolutely no regard for human life. Needless to say, it took us 4 hours.
But all in all, it has been a great 3 weeks. Adventures, mistakes, and accidents here and there, but nothing like the Mexico all Americans have come to know and fear. We were never accosted by the Federales, we haven’t had to bribe anyone (or even sseen anyone who was trying to get one), and somehow, (although I have no idea how this is possible), in 1000 miles of driving with Mexican drivers who drive absolutely insanely – changing lanes constantly, cutting in front, turning across 4 lanes of traffic, taking unbelievable risks constantly… we saw only one accident and that one involved at least one American. I mean, at home, I usually see 3 accidents on my way into town.
I really can’t explain why I didn’t see more than one here, in a thousand miles of driving through towns filled with drivers driving at insane speeds through narrow streets around hundreds of huge buses, all of whom act as if they are driving bumper cars. It has been substantially more expensive than I expected (still cheaper than the US in most areas, but not by the margin I had expected), but the people are friendly, the police and military that we’ve seen have been helpful, and you can walk through dark alleys the likes of which would make even a brave soul quail in most American cities. And yet in Mexico you can take a trip through most of these towns we’ve been in, at midnight, and see children and adults alike talking, and not have the slightest bit of trouble, and even feel safe.
It goes without saying that it helps to speak Spanish, although it isn’t strictly necessary. Altogether, it was an amazing adventure through a strange land, and one that I highly recommend to anyone who has a few weeks to spend and an adventurous spirit with which to enjoy it.
Trip date: October 2006. Trip length: 3 weeks.
4 Responses
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Posted on June 17th, 2007 by Natnee and filed under Mexico |
July 23rd, 2007 at 8:43 am
dk-transform at icc, just checking in. nice blog… i was cleaning up my icc messages, clearmessages * etc, and there you were. i just knew that there was a reason that i saved three bad messages, but one good one from u, with the link.
warmest, david
August 18th, 2008 at 2:20 am
Your blog is interesting!
Keep up the good work!
February 7th, 2009 at 12:31 am
all u said its true, but just u need a good road map and u´ll never get lost in Mexico, i know Guadalajara a lot, the sigs are not really correct at all, but letme tell u some, if u didnt like Guadalajara dont go again, there are many Mexicans reading all ur Blog… of SHIT!
Please if u dont know read Spanish sigs, next time rent a translator.
September 24th, 2009 at 8:55 pm
Hi, I’m mexican and I’m not even close to be mad like Daniel. I live in Acapulco, and as I read this adventure of yours I was laughing a LOT… I loved the Obey Signs and Don’t mistreat signs part… Next time visit Acapulco!!