50+ Lifestyles

Just Saying…

Life inside the Postcard

By Q.C. Jones

Have you ever found yourself lost in a postcard? You see colorful decorations, interesting buildings and palm trees all nestled on the shiny shores of a tranquil see. Looking further, you see children playing in the sands and a few sails off in the distance. Your mind wanders and for a few seconds you hear a kaleidoscope of sounds; seagulls, surf and some exotic music. On a few perfect days, you daydream your way into the picture. Most times this fleeting moment comes and goes in milliseconds.

For your pal QC Jones, it happens all the time. Every now and then, these strong mental images, daydream and the night kind too, spur action. Years ago, I had one of those moments. And, I did something about it. Armed with a dozen or so internet travel sites, I set my destination as Banderas Bay on the west coast of Mexico.

Why Banderas Bay? The bay is situated at the foot of the Sierra Madre Mountains. In many places the mountains drop almost straight into the sea. In other spots, there are miles of long sandy beaches, rivers and palm trees seem to grow everywhere. Further, Puerta Vallarta, the main destination, is a real and historic small city. I fell in love with the place many years ago.

As we’ve discovered many of the nooks and crannies of the older portion of the town, our connection with the sights, sounds and people have grown fonder. After staying in a different place year after year, we finally found a spot to call our temporary home for a few weeks each year. As I write, it’s early pre-dawn morning, the city along with my wife and friends is just starting to wake. From my open window, I can hear the sound of the cock crow, occasional dog bark and the people running the street stand a block away setting up for the early breakfast crowd.

If you were expecting to read about life in one of the ritzy condos located in the hustle and bustle of the tourist section of town, guess again. We tried the tourist thing but kept waking up thinking we were in Miami. Our place is about halfway up a mountain, removed from the tourist track and firmly planted in a Mexican neighborhood. Directly below our balcony and down a steep 50-foot cliff rests a car wash. While one might believe that distracting, the fact is we rarely notice. But we do notice, the hundreds of families walking to one of the main buses stop directly across from the car wash. Moms, dads, grandmas and tons of children walk below our window each day to catch the bus through the tunnel and to the other side of town.
Days begin with a 4-block walk down the mountain to the neighborhood bakery. The tiny place, measuring barely 10 x 15, turns out massive stacks of bread, pastries, cakes, and pies each day. Customers are mostly locals with a healthy dose of enlightened tourists venturing out for something special. The baked goods are the perfect accompaniment for locally grown coffee.

True confessions, I am not a coffee snob. My tastes trend more to truck stop coffee over Starbucks. Applying a saying attributed by many to Saint Ambrose, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do…” I play along with the locals on coffee. The mountain town of San Sabastian is home to several coffee plantations, and we have discovered the beans from the nearby mountains are great. Plus, they cost less than Folgers, especially when purchased at the nearby liquor store; not that I would frequent such places.

Late morning finds us walking the half-mile down the mountain to the more touristy area on the beach. We typically stop by a few of our favorite stores, as much to say chat as to buy stuff. My lovely bride is attracted by bright shiny objects. With Mexican silver found in literally hundreds of shops, my wife has many friends to visit.

I twitter away my day finding handcrafted trinkets for the kiddos in my life. Each of these transactions involves much looking, some playing and elaborate negotiation ceremonies. The negotiation dance is both choreographed and expected at all but the fanciest stores. No item comes with a price tag, so you ask, the store owner quotes some outrageous price, you say no, and the negotiations are off to the races. To some, the whole process is a hassle, to QC Jones it’s entertainment.

Late afternoon revolves around walking back down to the beach and occupying a thatched roof covered table at a little place called The Sea Monkey. The service is so-so, the food is average at best, but the table is front row Banderas Bay. I call it life inside the postcard; plus the beers are 17 pesos which translates to one US dollar. Just saying…