Vallarta Journal: 1. Some Impressions of PVR
Our
Night of the Iquana was a small taupe-colored gecko discovered in the morning clinging to the shower tile, which must have entered through the ventilation louvers.
The final approach to Puerto Vallarta follows the swollen, switchbacked, silt-clouded Rio Ameca southwest through a break in the steep coastal Sierra Madre to the deep, west-facing gash of ocean that is Bahia de Banderas.
Along a narrow strip of coastal plain--4-5 blocks--extends the original Mexican village, established to process and ship silver from the rich loads above, north from the Rio Cuale. Along this river and its island is found an extensive (labyrinthine) handicraft market, partly accessed by suspended, swinging plank bridges. White-sand littoral traces the beachside
palapas (thatched huts), restaurants, and older and quainter hotels as far as the lovely, stepped villas of Conchas Chinas beach, where the ridge interrupts the sand. Farther southwest Banderas bay is dotted with coves and rocky islets backed by a steep and verdant semi-tropical jungle, where you can find the Mismaloya set of the memorable film, the former home of director John Huston at Caletas, and the Mexican beachside paradise called Yelapa.
By the ¨Green Flash¨ of a Pacific sunset, the coordinated tourist operation in in full swing, with the offshore replica of Columbus´s bark loaded with dined and besotted vacationers, attending to its Meso-American pageants and fireworks. Pyrotechnic displays are also popular along the festive Malecon, where boys swing flaming censors. Food vendors sell colorful tropical fruits, seafood, and carnes asadas--all painstakingly fashioned and arrayed, aesthetically, along a stick. Also, particularly noticeable at night are the white-burning outlined hulks of modern hotels extending in tight developments like Marina Vallarta along the northwest shore to Punta Mita. Not as off-putting as Cancun´s Vegas-style pyramids, they offer me no value other than their shared red-rooftop lights, apparently indicating to approaching planes the runway.
From the palapa bar atop Club Paco Paco, regular flashes of heat lightning backlight the surrounding mountains. As I mix (?) with an exuberant crowd of young Mexican students on holiday, their uniformly dark hair and skin but with variations of strking mestizo features easily transport me to some mountaintop ritual of rain and fire among tapestried and gold-bedecked Aztec or Olmec ancestors. Yeah, from 1-3 a.m. the bar--with its drag show tonight--is happening.
Tina went diving with an outfitter yesterday and had a reassuring experience. If her Marietta Islas dive didn´t have the clear, turquoise waters of Recife, what with so many afternoon tropic summer rains, a number of sea creatures were pressed by the instructor into her palms--one adhering--and she saw moray eels and unfamiliar mustard-yellow fish with jet stripes. No problem here with breathing water or streaming nosebleeds from poor equalization of water pressure.
She intends to parasail today. I saw one guy yesterday at the beach responding to a powerful speedboat´s tow. He launched 100´s of feet vertically within seconds, and his lemon-yellow parachute blossomed into a full ad for Corona--
La Cerveza Mas Fina.
posted by Paul at 9:04 AM
