Jan 3, 2026, 8:09 PM

Happy Happy Everything, Folks!

I am pestering you with this new years Blog because we are in a whole new experience and Judy need to share it. You can delete as you like, as always- I won’t have any idea, so please feel free to discard as you like, and even grumble under your breath, if you are so inclined. Lew and I flew out from Denver on a flight that was several hours late – not that we cared. We are out of town till the 1st of April, on extended vacation/retirement/adventure-seeking/time off/lazy days.

Our luggage was heavy, as we haul a lot of stuff for our 3-month stay in Puerto Vallerta.

So, let me tell you – it doesn’t look like the last time we were here ten years ago, after an aborted attempt to visit China turned into a week at a resort in Nueva Vallerta, a trendy place up the road. Well – this time, we very deliberately planned a different sort of time (…a week is one thing, three months is quite another…). We are NOT staying in the coastal places, and we are NOT staying at the very new and very lovely new resorts that have popped up like giant prairie dogs all along the sunny coast. We wanted a Mexican time in a Mexican neighborhood. We Got It – and thus the beginning.

Our Air B&B (there are two of them for 6 weeks each) – the first one – we took a cab from the airport, but only after hauling the suitcases, I told you how heavy they were, up and over a very long and uphill bridge over the street where we could get a cab (ostenzibly less epxpensive than the regular cabs at the airport proper), although we intended to get an UBER. He was a chatty sort, who told us all about his uncles, and his grandma, and how his uncle had died recently – “he was too big (fat).”

When we turned onto our little street – a cobblestone street not exactly like the medieval ones in Italy, but rather cobbles, of all depths and varied sunkenness across the street. It was so interesting to see what those look like when not maintained. More on this later. We are definitely in a local neighborhood – no chance to be invisibly moving in. The neighbors were out, and gawked as neighbors do, dogs barking, and us feeling timid, we slunk into our new casita. When we walked around, and found local places to eat – lots of them – we could relax. We did notice one place at the corner had a line snaking in two directions for space for food, but found another place,us being tired and impatient. We translated between us, and ate well.

There are sidewalks, sort of, and they too are sometimes there, and sometimes not, and sometimes require a ladder or a step stool to go up or down them. They seem to have been different decisions by each house, or set of homes, and not ever connected to a design that followed any pattern. Watching our feet!

Our place is fun, with a couple of bedrooms, a TV room, and a front room. Lew likes his temperature cool, and I like mine hotter, of course, as is usual for two people, so he plants himself in a couple of rooms and I another. We have room to sprawl. It works out well, and we have the luxury of using the extra bedroom as a large utility closet.

So, the next morning, what was across the street that looked dark and empty, unused, suddenly came to life with a roar. The entire street is marketplace, except for the houses on our block. Even they might not be – who knows. We’ve come to the conclusion that, as Lew says, every sidewalk is a store, and every store is multiple stores. It reminds us of a couple of markets we’ve been in both in Italy and in Barcelona, where a front market door opens up and voila – inside there are so many different places, some to eat, some to sell ?, some fresh fish and food, all jumbled together in an indistinguishable patchwork of thronging life. Very little signage, very little corporate USA, that’s for sure.

People sell something from any patch of concrete, including the water and drinks couple who embrace and kiss, and sigh, and then laugh and turn around to the people waiting for the bus.

They have set up shop at the end of the bus stop benches, with a tiny little umbrella, and a hand- written sign for Horchata, or coconut water. It’s that way in all directions, including the tamale vendor, the bread/biscuit vendor, the taco vendor, the shrimp vendor, and multiple others that seem to sell clothes, maybe, all without a building. It’s suddenly very busy everywhere, but people are very polite, and smile, don’t push, and forgive my intolerable spanish with a smile.

We set out for Costco – we had determined, we were going by bus, returning by Uber. We waited by the drinks vendors, and watched the world go by in all its amazingness. When what we thought was our bus came (still figuring out Google maps and the local bus conventions), we hopped on, got two tickets for something, and at one point, Lew, handling transportation by phone (google maps) said – I think we should get off, but maybe we are on the wrong bus. No problem, said his wife with optimism… We can just take this bus and take it to the end of the line, and return.

Ha! As an aside… I don’t think that the bus drivers have a union, or a set of standards, or even really modern buses to work with. There are unique examples of what might indicate individual ownership.

We went off my brain-map a few minutes, but couldn’t sort out a proper place to exit and return, as we didn’t know where the heck we were. We rode through hilly country, small pockets of neighborhoods, and a seriously diminishing indication of “center of town.” After about 45 minutes, the population riding with us had shrunk to four people. The end was near, we could feel it. When the driver stopped, and indicated we were to exit, I explained in passable Spanish that we were “perdidos” lost. He pointed to a much neglected bench, and said to wait there for the return. We did. Picture tells the story…

As I said, I don’t think that the bus drivers have a union, or a set of standards, or even really modern buses to work with. They are unique examples of what might indicate individual ownership. Sadly neglected indeed!

Two boys , who looked a lot like out youngest grandchild Matteo, got on with us, and pointed us where to go. They were, as everyone has been, tolerant and kind.

The world’s most lovely children are right here. OMG pretty boys and girls of all ages. We called it a day when we got near to home, ate out cheaply, and Costco’ed today. More on that later…

We are getting used to what happens when infrastructure is not maintained, and happily climb over curbs and missing concrete sidewalks, and back up again. People just accommodate – such resilience is impressive. We are living an adventure for sure! More on that later too…

Costco, and Wallymart, and why on earth is no one bilingual on either side of the border. All signs in Spanish, people speak a broken pigeon English, and I respond in kind in Spanish, then we stare at each other and speak with our eyes. Functional at some level, bad for buses and directions….