The Wandering Dabbler: Puerto Vallarta Edition

 

It had been some time since I had done any sort of leisure travel involving a pool and some sunshine. For some reason, I've been more compelled to arrange vacations around things involving culture, whether it be of the high-, culinary- or viti- variety (Europe, Japan, Sonoma, etc.). I guess this is appropriate considering seeing 'important' art, learning about the nuances of grape varietals, and eating fish next to the now closed-to-the-public Tsukiji fish market in Tokyo are all dilettantish activities. They are the experiences that make one a Jack (or Jill) of all trades and allow one to talk proudly about their vacation that involved 'learning' and 'experiences' rather than a 5 day margarita-induced alcoholic bender.

However, this week I learned a lot about the benefits of travelling to a place where there is essentially nothing to do, and no culture other than that offered by Senor Frog's Spring Break Foam Parties.



I had no expectations going into this, my only knowledge of the resort coming only from the distant memories of Charo and Captain Merrill Stubing docking here in the 1980s. So there was a lot to experience.

In no particular order, here are some things that the Dabbler found pleasant, learned, or took note of during her sojourn to 'PV', as the locals say:

--Staying at a timeshare condo, I was afforded the opportunity of occasionally preparing my own food. Hence, several trips to the nearby Mega supermarket were made, and, as in any country, you can learn a whole lot about a place by how it does its shopping, especially for necessities. In PV, the Mega was exactly as the name indicates. Huge. Products available here include not just food, but clothing, bicycles, appliances, sporting equipment, eyewear, over-the-counter Ciproflaxin and pretty much anything you can imagine. It seems that the closer to the 3rd world a country is, the larger their supermarkets are (and the less expensive the items sold there are). Which leads me to the conclusion that with Wal-Mart and big box stores taking over the U.S., we are surely slipping in status from first world to something less.

--One department more advanced in Mexico than U.S. is culture. Well, to be more specific...active yogurt culture(s). The Mexicans seem to really enjoy their dairy products, and the scope of yogurt offerings at the Mega was breathtaking. And as you all now know, the Dabbler loves nothing more than 'yogurt that tastes like yogurt', found here in abundance. Acidopholus is alive and well in PV.

--I didn't miss television. Though there was one in our room, we didn't turn it on all week. Of course, the fact that trusty Tivo was back in LA recording the season premiere of The Sopranos comforted me during my week of visual media dieting.

--I read. A lot. I read Barbara Ehrenreich's depressing but illuminating 'Nickeled and Dimed' (which offers further proof that the US is slipping from 1st world status to something else, just a tad lower); I read Vanity Fair, and pondered whether Teri Hatcher was noble in her admission of having been sexually abused as a child, or a typical publicity-seeking-Hollywood -monkey; when I ran out of gossip magazines, I resorted to the New York Times, which I read cover to cover, two days in a row!

--I ate. And I ate. And then ate some more. I continued to consume, thinking, hoping, that I would contract some sort of stomach ailment, the turista that Mexico is so well known for. I arrived in PV with Pepto Bismol and Immodium in hand. But, alas, Montezuma never took its revenge, so my liberal eating backfired just a little bit.

--I exercised. So the eating did not do the damage that it might otherwise have. The complex had a decent little workout room that enabled me to shed some of the cervezas and camarones (and yogurt) consumed over the week. So I'm not losing so much sleep over not having contracted diarrhea.

--Highly polluted Los Angeles is nothing compared to PV, where emmissions standards remain at perhaps the 1975 benchmark. I fear for the polar icecaps.

--I learned that when you ask a cab driver to take you to an authentic restaurant in PV, he takes you to the most remote and expensive place he can find, presumably getting some kind of kickback from the restaurant, or at the very least, a guaranteed fare back from some other similarly duped tourist finishing their meal just as you arrive.

--I found out that I am actually a full fledged adult as I gawked with astonishment and confusion as 20 year old co-eds on Spring Break drank 60 ounce frozen strawberry margaritas as they danced on the bar at Senor Frog's (visible from the boardwalk; I did NOT go inside). I just couldn't wrap my head around the appeal of such an activity. Come to think of it, such antics haven't ever really enticed me, so I guess I have been a full-fledged fuddy-duddy all my life. The Dabbler has never gone, will never go, Coyote Ugly.

--Tequila...I haven't indulged in the poison since 1989, at my sister's bachelorette festivities at the Golden Banana on Route 1 in Saugus. The smell of the drink makes me cringe, as do the spotty memories of Conan the stripper's stage show.

--Hence, I had some beer. I haven't ordered beer in a restaurant in aeons, not since I have become an aspiring oenophile. And the beer was tasty.

Not that one can't do shopping, eating, reading and drinking on other types of vacations, but a fun-in-the-sun week is definitely more conducive to such activities than a museum hopping, countryside touring or urban immersion kind of trip. Puerto Vallarta, rock on!