At Home In Ajijic

My feet were wet. The slimy kind of wet. Just as radiator fluid spewed out of the heater onto my toes, we arrived to Ajijic. Phew! Pancho is a good boy, but he sure does like to keep us guessing…

My parents, the ‘OG Adventurers’ themselves, welcomed us with open arms. It felt so good to “be home” for a week at their newly remodeled place.

Our jaws dropped as we toured each room, getting a glimpse of the colors, charm, detail, gorgeous handcrafted furniture and all the fine touches down to the fresh fruit and flowers in every room. They had done an INCREDIBLE job!!!

Full of sunflower smiles, the stay was off to the most relaxing start. Catching up, exchanging stories and introducing our pup to the house paws 😉

It’s hard to summarize this portion of the trip because it was special on so many different levels.

Quality time with my family…welcoming and introducing J’s family and friends… So many happy, beautiful souls in one place.

Spanish-cooking classes, learning how to make the best nopales, extended dinners and laughter… My first dirty martini… Whoa… ‘Extra sucio?!’

Birria lunches, sunset malecón cruises, my Mamacita’s treats over coffee (Mmmm those chocolate cookies though!!!), and Mozy’s first time swimming in the pool.

Adventuring in Ajijic and Guadalajara, birthday parties, tequila tastings, and heated matches of “futbolitos”. Gggggooooaaaaalllllll!!!!!!

Ajijic was a full pour to the soul. An overflowing cup of that delicious chocolate drink from the ‘Casa de Cacao’ that will keep you wanting more. More than a place, home is a feeling. Definitely at home in Ajijic, we were so grateful for our loved ones that made it so meaningful. Thank you 🙂

Guanajuato Part II

Known to be one of the deepest silver mines; in the 18th century Guanajuato produced over 50 percent of the world’s silver. For the next three centuries it would keep this title, accounting for a third of all silver.

In addition to precious metals, Guanajuato has rich history; the state where the War of Independence was initiated with the “Grito de Dolores”. A cry that united the rebel army against the Spaniards September 15th and 16th 1810.

A giant statue of El Pípila (Juan Josè de los Reyes Martínez) still watches over the city today; proudly holding his torch in the air.

A beautiful mezcla of the old and new, this UNESCO world heritage town in a MUST SEE, best explored on foot. The streets become so narrow they merge into pedestrian only walkways, networks of alleys and steep stairways that connect neighborhoods up and down the mountainside. Endless exploring…

People watching in the plaza over Don Julio sippers. Bacon wrapped perros calientes with the works. (YUM!)

Going back in time with sweet sips of pulque, tequila’s ancestor… Over 2000 yrs old, this delicious and nutritious beverage is made from fermenting the sap of the maguey (agave plant). Pine nut, oats with berry, peanut and mojito flavor flights…

‘Funicular’ cable car rides to the top of the city, into the sky. Sunsets, cafe lights, panoramic views…

Buying art, eating Japanese food and teaching Mozy how to go up and down stairs…(Not her favorite pastime).

And perhaps the most thrilling, catching the finale of Rally Guanajuato Mexico (thanks to Alvaro for clueing us in!)…

Rally cars racing down the mountains, dirt and gravel clouds shooting off the hairpin turns like cannons above us… flying by seconds later, skillfully sliding across the cobblestones, practically drifting just feet away from us towards the screaming finishing shoot of fans. Whoa, what an adrenaline rush!!

More precious than its silver, the Guanajuato experience is a priceless one!

Getting to Guanajuato

Finishing a van picnic of delicious barbacoa tacos y quesadillas in San Miguel, we were fueled up, looking forward to the Guanajuato journey….well, until the car wouldn’t start…

After unsuccessfully trying to flag down cars to jump us on a busy one way street, we retreated to the taco shop family, convincing them to help us out. (Good thing we had left a good tip for our takeout).

Our new friend pulled up in his big truck, blocking the whole road, standing by our side till Pancho was fired up…Viva la barbacoa 😉 … Eeeeeesshhh…

The battery didn’t want to hold a charge… J had to keep his foot on the gas at all times to prevent Pancho from giving up.

Startling other vehicles in traffic, J would gracefully pop Panch’ into neutral or park at the red lights, gently reving the engine to keep us ‘alive’… An uneasy way to start a 3 hr drive through the middle of no where, with no cell reception.

We died again about an hour later, right in front of the policemen who had just hassled us for not having our front plate on, but conveniently next to a parked cowboy truck.

A few eye rolls from the policía checkpoint, I hopped out, smiling, waving the jumper cables in the air towards the caballeros. “Tenemos cables” …See, all good in the neighborhood…

Cruising over, the men curiously stared at Pancho before popping their hood to get us running again. Tipping their hats, we were off, round 2! Yikes.. still only half way there..

Hot and sweating, we weren’t the only ones heating up… Pancho was getting a little too warm. Temperature, elevation, mood, lots of variables in the mix there…

Finally entering the Guanajuato city limits, google maps stopped working right as we approached the underground tunnels… yea…

We didn’t quite know what we were in for driving in Guanajuato. An absolutely stunning city, it was built in a narrow valley, down one mountainside and up the other.

The streets (originally different river beds) were like intertwining spider webs, woven in, under and around the city. Dipping down into tunnels that would branch off in several different directions… Missing the wrong turn meant winding and ‘gophering’ back around, and around.

Up-down, up-down, up-down. Now you see us, now you don’t.

J was magically juggling the gas and break pedals, we were so close, but Pancho was getting pissed…

A guide on the side of the road offered us a free map and generously helped us trace the route we needed to go in order to arrive at our AirBnB (even giving us a business card, offering his own house if we couldn’t find our reservation).

Simultaneously, Alvaro, our AirBnB host was trying to help us, sending direct coordinates to the residence.

Total chaos, sucking in, holding our breath, as we tried to squeeze through the narrow alleys and streets, barely scraping the side mirrors.

J driving, Mozy and me nervously navigating, right as we made it to the right street, Pancho lost his patience, overheated and shut down in the middle of the street.

Hissing, simmering, we came to a halt, stopped on the cobblestones and shrugged our shoulders at the poor guy behind us… you best reverse buddy.

Tempting to let our spirits sink, Alvaro turned our frowns upside down, emerging with ice cold beers while we waited for Pancho to cool off.

Quite an introduction, we had a decompressing moment of silence with our beers in the middle of the street.

Getting to Guanajuato!

San Miguel de Allende

San Miguel de Allende is a palette adventure of warm pastels… Peaches, corals, oranges, sunflowers… happy, mood boosting hues that inspire energy and happiness.

An UNESCO world heritage site; the city is a work of art in itself.

It’s not just the history, the baroque / neoclassical architecture, but best felt in the richly upheld traditions, flower crowns, mariachi bands, quinceañera princesses floating by and cobblestone streets.

The secret gardens, art galleries, cute courtyards, and the smell of espresso and a freshly baked croissant.

Brownies in bed for breakfast, walks and swings with Mozy girl in Benito Juárez Park.

Three carefree nights and almost four euphoric days.

Of course, a large part of this San Miguel masterpiece is the food…

An incredible 5 course tasting menu at Nómada cocina de interpretación- each dish a ‘framer’, perfectly constructed with chop sticks….

Staring (and chewing) in awe as Carnegie hall guitarist Gil Gutiérrez takes the stage over chiles en nogadas at Bistro Mi Casa.

Rooftop hopping, from pizzas and craft beer at Casa Chiquita to lemon meringue pie and Prosecco at El Pegaso.

The best carnitas torta you’ve ever tasted, potato/cheese/bean filled street tacos and puffing on Cubans in Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel.

Jícama shelled tacos, stuffed with shrimp and tamarind salsa, margarita city sunsets.

We went, we saw, we tasted… (well, not quite enough of that strawberry ice cream).

There is so much to experience in San Miguel. Wherever your paint brush takes you, you can’t go wrong.

Each trip a new canvas to be filled with more of those toasty, heart warming colors.

Pátzcuaro

Before we knew it, the salt air was in the rear view mirror; we were approaching pine trees, puffing on the last of the cappuccino cigarillos.

Pancho chugged along, lungs burning with the 7,000 ft+ elevation gain; while the rest of us were more relaxed, relieved to be in cooler weather!

Driving into Pátzcuaro was like emerging from an ancient time machine. Narrow cobblestone streets lined with colonial red and white buildings, a history book town that has preserved its traditions, architecture and charm since being founded sometime in the 1320s..

Winding our way up a narrow wooden, wobbly staircase; we found our casita for the night.

To get better acquainted with town, we hit the main plaza to see what was going on… stumbling right into a carnival parade.

Live music erupted as paper mache bulls danced in the streets, chasing after the cross dressing sayacas… kids in masks, confetti and…BOOOOM, SNAP, CRACK fireworks and bottle rockets exploding and echoing off the surrounding courtyard walls.

There was so much to take in, a little hungry and tired from our journey inland, we opted for street food carts so we could take a seat and enjoy the show!

“¿Tamal Oaxaqueños?” … ¡Si, dos por favor!

We anxiously watched as she delicately unwrapped the delicious bundle from its banana leaf into our cups, generously topping them with crema and salsa verde.

It was perfection, all washed down with an icy cup of agua de jamaica.

Following the spectacle, the crowd grew larger as we all spilled into yet another, bigger plaza where other parades were merging together.

There, we ‘parked’ it with the festivities till the sun went down, relaxing on the grass and enjoying the rich culture of this magic town.

Strolling home, there was one more show…the sunset softening the sky, splashing a warm light all over the walls, like the golden pages of the old history book we had fallen into…

Buenas noches!

Zihua Brah!

“Zihua brah!!!!” had been on the tip of our tongue since the idea of the trip was born…. “Z-z-z-zihua”, “Zi-huat”, “Zihuatanejo” wiggled it’s way into so many conversations, it was fitting to finally meet the big “Z” during our last stay on the coast and furthest point south in Guerrero.

Quite the contrast to Nexpa, Zihuatanejo was a busy hub for tourism, a beautiful city stretched across the coast and neighboring hillsides.

A major harbor, beach, surf and seafood that attracted people from everywhere.

We were lucky to snag the last spot in the part RV Park, part fancy Restaurant parking lot, called ‘El Manglar’.

At first curious why the restaurant/campsite was called ‘the mangrove or swamp’, it became evident when we spotted a 10 ft+ crocodile just steps away from our margaritas…

The staff quickly advised that all pets should remain ‘on leash’, as the cocodrilos might become hungry.

Peering over the short restaurant fence, feet away, you could see the crocodile watching, motionless, except for the eyes… Which customer would come close next?…

Besides camping with the crocs, Zihua offered great food, beach time, swimming with Mozy pie, hip hangouts like “Loot” where we’d cool off with a cocktail in the afternoon heat, and …more Italian food! Haha!

Loot:

The Italian…

Our finale in Zihua ended with a delicious meal at a little Trattoria in the jungle. Walking up, you definitely felt like you had just stumbled into the heart of Italy. Art, music, down to the napkins and chairs…Italian.

We were shortly greeted by a man, wide as he was tall, just bursting with personality. He sang through the menu and made sure we had plenty of wine to start the night.

After licking our plates clean from the homemade pastas, cannolis and tiramisu, we starting speaking with our new friend to figure out how he had ended up in Mexico.

He smiled, leaned into our table hard and began…”This is-a- very good-a-story… you know, I be in Venice in the Gondola with girlfriend, drinking the wine, having the sex, smoking the pot… falling asleep, having more of the sex again…you know… the pot.. and then-a-one-a-day we do that again, and a-end up here!!…” He started giggling, trying to twist our arm into limoncello but we had to politely decline..too full!!

(We later learned that if he didn’t like customers, he’d literally chase them out of the restaurant or deny them food like the soup nazi…) Lucky for us, we had a warm send off from the trattoria and from Zihuatanejo. 😉

An incredible adventure down the coast, it was time to head inland.

Nexpa

As J sweetly summarized, Nexpa was “popcorn kisses and Pacifico dreams”;

a sleepy surf town we hunkered down in for a few days on the Michoacán coast.

Heat and humidity guided us to a rustic cabaña, right on the beach, steps away from a famous surf break.

We were welcomed by our gringo neighbor nicknamed, Memo, and caught a few other friendly surfer waves along the way.

It was refreshing to settle into such a relaxing little lugar…

Nexpa was a fine stretch of sand with one main tienda (small store with essentials), a campground, hotel, cabañas and a handful of restaurants…(One of which we frequented often for the best shrimp burritos and banana licuados).

Waves a little too good for me, J shredded the gnar, while I got in my much loved beach walks.

Afternoons were sunshine, swimming, hammocks…And of course, the palmitas (popcorn) and Pacifico sunset dreams.

Taking a small break from the beloved Mexican food… we decided nights were Italian.

¡Mama Mia! Just enough to wet our appetite, we look forward to an extended stay here in the future.

(And trust me, I’m going to practice my surf to get out there next time!)

Bienvenidos a Michoacán

One rabies shot later, we were leaving Manzanillo, Colima, heading towards the Michoacán border.

Bananas galore through Colima. Lush crop fields everywhere; ‘plátanos maduros’ more than anything, piled all over the place. (That is our lasting memory of that state…A beautiful drive, but… hot and humid in ol’ Pancho).

Sticking to our chairs, becoming one with our vehicle, we crossed the border!

Squealing to a halt at the first ‘lookout point’; we peeled ourselves out (just like one of those bananas) to take in the view…

Wow Michoacán…talk about exceeding expectations. The only thing comparable would be the Big Sur coast line on tropical steroids.

Dramatic cliffs, rocks, with pristine beaches outlined in palms down below. Every shade of green making the steep mountainous terrain more impressive. How had we not heard about this before?

Winding our way through the jungle, peering out at the vistas every opportunity, we started looking for lodging.

Narrowing down the options; J picked Marüata… Bienvenidos a Michoacán! Quite an introduction to this magical place.

The long drive was well worth it. Pancho didn’t fit under the camping palapa; so we went with a cabaña…

Mozy didn’t think it was too bad either.

French Canadian Francine

Leaving San Pancho, we started a marathon adventure South into new territory for both of us.

(No hunting the jaguars, okay!)

To prepare for hours on the carretera, we made some mandatory stops in Puerto Vallarta for: much craved SUSHI, cigarillos and Mexican Mochas! (Tight timeline folks… 😉 )

Next destination: Punta Pérula en La Costa Alegre – a very fitting name for a long stretch of ‘joyful, happy coast’ in the state of Jalisco.

Parking it at the ‘Red Snapper’ RV park, we arrived, yet again, just in time for sunset, a happy hour swim, cervezas…and… a dog?…

This was the third black stray dog that had befriended us during our trip. Was it a sign…Maybe the third x really is the charm?

The lil tamale stayed by our side the whole stay; slept in the van, took a liking to the floor rug…or maybe she wanted the chicken milanesas?… She kept hopping into the van like it was home sweet home.

After picking out her ticks, giving her a bath and Dr. J taking care of her eye infection, the adoption conversations began…

Maybe if she’s still there in the morning, posiblemente we’ll decide over the next coffee… or was it every other person on the beach who kept asking if it was ‘our dog‘…

Our neighbor, French Canadian Francine, put us over the edge, “Do-a-something good eh? You take that dog, she’ll die here. I see her with you; it’s your dog.” …”Yes, good. You take her; she will have a good life now”.

Perhaps we couldn’t say ‘no‘ to Francine and her poofy little dog Be-Be. We’d be letting down all the Canadians at the Red Snapper really…

Those big, puffy eyes hopefully gazing into our souls, a hypnotizing stare urging “take me….” (sigh)…

Then, there were three…

Loading up the van with our new furry friend, waving goodbye to Francine, there would be a slight detour to find the next el veterinario.

Mozy

It was just another day on the Costa Alegre in Jalisco. I woke up in my sand patch, where the river meets the sea in Punta Pérula.

Passing time, chasing sand crabs and dragging around sea celeries, I saw them…

Two new visitors were approaching my beach. He threw a good stick and she gave a mean ear scratch.

They might be lost, so I showed them around…figured they might need someone to look after them.

After staying a while, the humans were growing on me. I always wanted a few of my own, but it’s a real serious responsibility.

This species is a lot of work. Sometimes ‘no’ means ‘yes’. They have mood swings, can be demanding, needy. You have to make sure they get enough exercise, give them enough affection. It’s a gamble adopting some, but I was feeling risky!

Rolling the dice, I took them in.So far, it’s going really well; my tail is wagging more than ever. I’m still deciding what to name them.

As for them, they like to call me “Mozy”.