Ahhh SAYULITA. My memories of you were a quaint village and an upcoming thriving beach community. It’s like when you forget to check back for a few years with friends and visit them without first checking their recent FB posts and realize too late something drastic has changed. I’ll admit these were last minute reservations available on air bnb (this is a reputable, non-controversial modern way to travel so… no problem-O right?). I planned to arrive via a hotel car service but found there was no petro in the area so my ride was late. Just after sunset (beach vacation jargon for pitch black but we could see the stars) we arrived via the back road, as the main road was closed as well as all the gas stations. I did one thing right- I hired a bi-lingual driver in an SUV. I would need both. I had him call my hosts, which was another major good idea. Upon arrival, we saw a flashlight waving from the side road. It beckoned us to turn right and start our off road trek. Wait?! We went up, up, up and civilization went bye bye bye. When we stopped at the top of an embankment I looked down to find my hosts arriving from the jungle. They had hiked up a very narrow and steep rock strewn path. Now I have hiked the Incan Trail to Machu Picchu, but this was not my intention on a beach vacation. These were two different types of trips and combining them was not my idea of Happy New Year’s Eve. Also, my knees are not the same knees and my hiking poles were far away at home. As well I prefer a backpack and not a roll bag on the trail. My hosts, speaking no English, tried to convince me that down the trail with my bags was indeed not a ploy to attack and rob innocent tourists and that is was as they say “Safe”. Seeing I now had no choice but to meet my maker or enjoy the beach, whichever happened first, I went for a hike. Down, down, down and then up, up, up all in the dark (let’s say pitch black with a bag) except for the IPhone flashlight. And yes the IPhone does do everything. We eventually reached a clearing only to find one of those concrete dwellings you see in foreign countries and wonder –why don’t they ever finish those? This is what I would call home or I’d call something I won’t repeat and be forced to stay in anyway. But alas not alone, as I was serenaded by a host of winged and multi legged creatures.
Once I succumbed to settling in my hosts showed me how to walk up the narrow iron steps and unlock the door and re-bolt it again once safely inside. I wasn’t getting the “safe” part here. In an attempt to interpret what my hosts were showing me I drew from a train trip through Germany where they showed me the same thing and also in a different language. The German’s did a good non-verbal pantomime version of keep this door locked at night from the inside or you could die in an unpleasant fashion. I got that this was the same idea and I put the two together, swiftly for some reason. The couple made me show them how I could lock myself in – to their satisfaction. Then a funny thing they made me try again from the outside and locked me out. Again, did I mention NO English spoken here? Fortunately, one of the owners was on the outside narrow step watching me. Unfortunately, due to my shaky legs, panic and hike I fell off the narrow stairs. The only hope was to grab was the owner’s thigh, leg ummmm ok not sure what really happened here. I do know HE pulled me to safety and we agreed non-verbally not to mention what may have really taken place and what I clung to as I fell. After that they agreed to personally walk me to town. I mean the whole family, kids and the in-laws included. After this I thought, “what else could happen”?
Happy New Year Montezuma.
The next apartment was a day’s walk across town, no hot water (but that is probably why no towels either) and conveniently not one mirror. Way to think this through.
They did provide me a concrete slab with a hammock. I jumped in? Why not? As did a very short half Lab-half Something? When in Rome (they have street dogs right?).
The Next day my very generous friends picked me up off a curb (literally) and took me to the W, Punta Mita a very nice 5 star resort. Thank God for Starwood points and good friends. I feel I have made a complete, almost, recovery. The last bit of my recovery required journaling as I have done here and felt that if I shared with my FB friends I might actually laugh this off. Eventually.
Time now for some lobster and a good shower. Wait…Lobster?? Reminds me of St John (S?).
MY TRAVEL Suggestion: PUNTA MITA is just down the street.
