San Blas Pause - Sayulita's Song

Mazatlan wasn't too hard to leave. Expensive, noisy and over touristy for my tastes... could have been anywhere cruise ships disgorge their passengers. From my perspective, if it weren't for Geri and the Pork Beans (sounds like a band) and the place I found to park for an evening to work on Choco, I could have passed Mazatlan right by and not missed a thing. Further South however, is a different story.

Choco y Yo turned off of MEX 15 about mid-day, and immediately, we responded with a collective sigh. The nearly 1000 miles of the toll roads, from Nogales through Mazatlan had been unnoticeably exacting a toll of their own. Sometimes you have to change lanes to discover what has been challenging you all along. In my case it was the monotony of the road, four lanes, nearly straight for as far as you can see,

 passing by at speeds that had me constantly checking Choco's vitals  over concerns that the ambient, though pleasant temperature, combined with the effort the motor was making to maintain such velocities, would lead to having to a pull over, a cool down and generally a hassle, afterall, I was long out the 'Hassle Free Zone'.


   There certainly were many beautiful segments of the toll road route. The rolling Sonora desert hills with it's seguaro forests and classic western movie flavor. "The Farm" of Mexico, Sinaloa state, where vast, verdantly productive plots of many of the fruits and vegis we see in our stores, stretch to the horizons, especially the tomato.

 In Georgia they have a peach positioned in the middle of their licence plate, in Sinaloa, it's a tasty tomato. Never before have I seen so much land devoted to one crop. And it was befuddling to consider the effort it took to actually cover, with shade cloth structures, 100's and 100's of acres of that land to protect that crop from the harsh Mexican Sun. The workforce in attendance too was astounding, 1000's of workers teemed over the tomatoes, nurturing them for tables North and South. Unfortunately,  I didn't get any good pictures of Tomatolandia. I would have had to have been in the air to get the sort of perspective needed to capture such impressiveness. Never again will I buy imported tomatoes in the States without envisioning those lands devoted to the most delectable of the deadly nightshade family.

So, the collective, palpable sigh made by Choco y Yo came when we took the exit off MEX 15 and dived down into the blissfully curvy, narrow, slow, two-laned and luciously be-jungled road heading to the coast and the fishing port of San Blas.

"Ahhh, that's more like it", we both said in our own ways. Me, by actually saying it out loud and Choco by shedding 40 degrees off his engine temperature. No more were we relentlessly baked by the Sun. Now we were mostly in shade as we drove through a virtual tunnel of overhanging jungle. I knew then we had discovered the way we had been wanting.

San Blas Pause


We didn't spend much time in the village of San Blas, a decent sized village situated behind long beaches and nearly surrounded by mangrove lagoons, but from the bit we did see I knew I would want to go back. The people seemed extra friendly, lots of smiles and merriment about. This was a village of mostly fishing folk with a side of Mexican tourism to fill in the gaps. Very few gringo's were about... I am assuming because of the lack of the familiar amenities they commonly enjoy.

We made our way through town to las playas and to one of the many and nearly deserted beach front palapa restaurants, in our case, 'Stoner's Restaurante, Surf School and Bungalows', I figured it was an appropriate place to park a hippie van and grab a bite to eat.

Talking with the waitress there, she informed me that this was their down time from Mexican tourism and thankfully so. She said that when all the Mexicans pour out of the cities for the beaches, their is no rest to be had in her little village. Once again, Choco y Yo hit it right.

I sat in my plastic chair on the sand in the shade of the palapa, watched the Sun drenched surf and surfers and enjoyed a scrumptious fillet of mahi-mahi smothered in garlic, salsa and french fries (for some reason, french fries or papas fritas are served with many dishes) and a beer. In between bites, various craft peddlers came by offering jewelery, movies, music, tiny violins, hats, blankets, watches, sunglasses and the opportunity to donate money to some cause or another. All were polite and some just passed on by knowing I was not a buyer. What a tough job they have. Hearing, "NO" all day long must get old... of course when you do hear "YES" it is that much nicer I suppose. I try to say "YES" sometimes, just for the heck of it. It usually results in sincere gratitude, or is that just well acted, "SUCKER! you just paid 10 times what that is worth"... I choose to believe the former as I think the folks that do this work are genuinely thankful for each peso they take home... that they need to take home.

We left San Blas with the knowing that someday we would return to explore more and maybe stay a little while longer. For now the pause was perfect.

Sayulita's Song

In the chorus, Sayulita's song is rather familiar, pretty much a pop song as far as Mexican beach towns go. But, in the  verse you hear lyrics of the rich life that many gringos and national tourists alike sing in their heads when it is time for a break.

By my assessment, as of yet, Sayulita has yet to be 'ruined', course this is my first time here, so what do I know. But I hear tell of what charm there is having been consciously preserved by the local powers that be. Apparently, it was collectively decided not to let big hotel chains come in and turn Sayulita into a Mazatlan or Cancun, for they could see the detriment to their own enjoyment. What has developed, although touristy, is a place where you can find genuine creativity (no name brands) in the form of eclectic, locally owned/operated arty shops and restaurants, organically stacked together, with no obvious planning and all situated on an tropically idyllic, sandy beached bay held in place by high rocky headlands and favored by surfers, those with enough money to buy themselves a handsome slice and the rest of us that have heard of it and have come for a look. In the case of some friendly traveling Canadians I have met, a look several times, as they keep finding what they are looking for: rest and relaxation.

Choco y Yo arrived in the late afternoon, after a pleasant drive from San Blas through the height of the water-melon harvest. In just about every pull out there were semi-trucks with smaller trucks backed up to them and an endless steam of water melons being hand tossed from, essentially, the field they were harvested in to whereever their final destination may be... look for them in the markets soon. It was interesting to note the calories burned transporting a food that barely has any calories at all... but oh so tasty.

After a detour, due to a new bridge being constructed, and a wrong turn, which turned out to be a right turn, because, where I asked directions was the home/workplace of the best hair stylist in town (so I am told) who not only informed me of how to get to where I was going but also, later, gave me a sorely needed hair cut. And as she did, her family, friends and nieghbors carried on as they do in these parts. Simultaneous, loud, competing, intermingled, gestured and jovial conversation as a background for kids of all ages running in and out,  tickling, giggling, chasing, teasing, crying followed  by more giggling... all giving the general impression of lives enjoyed along a dusty back street. Somehow, amidst all that, I really did get the best haircut in town (so I am told).

One thing the hairstylist didn't inform me of when I first asked about the location of the campground, was that one of the local families was having a wedding reception in the very same campground I was bound for.

 To get to my camping site, I nearly had to maneuver through the white table clothed and flower decorated tables being arranged for the event later to come. I was a little apprehensive about the whole thing, but thought, "why not?", I have never seen a Mexican wedding before... but I guess it wasn't the seeing of it that gave me the pause, it was the hearing of it late into the night that mildly concerned me.

As it turns, it was the best live Mariachi music I have ever heard. Full on, brass, percussion, strings and harmonizing voices professionally delivered by ornately costumed Mariachi's. It was a delight way into the night.

 Had I insinuated myself a little I may have been invited, especially after the drinks began to flow, but I stayed in the shadows with my camera and went to bed early after a long drive and pleasantly drifted off to the best songs I have heard yet in Sayulita.

Tomorrow takes me South again. It seems my fuel line patch is holding adequately and shouldn't give me too much trouble, crossing fingers, leading to the recovery of my confidence to venture forth from relative familiar ground.

Sayulita will probably sing to me again one day but until then, it's song will play in my head until I find another sweet song to sing.  :o)

** Below are some random shot from around here**