Yelapa Bound

My neighbor suggests  that once you arrive in Yelapa, you should turn your watch/clock back thirty years. I would urge you to be more radical. While awaiting the water taxi, remove all instruments which track time (watch, cell phones, electronic planners, sun dials, etc.) and stow them until the morning of your departure.  During the balance of your stay seek to embrace the following: the sun will alert you as to the arrival of the morning or its absence to the onset of night; your stomach will communicate when it requires input; and your throat will advise you when it desires drink. What else do you need to know? There are no dinner reservations in Yelapa. The only activity which is remotely choreographed by time is the water taxi schedule. I removed my watch a year ago November and wore it only during my recent return to Gringolandia—a culture obsessed with the identification/ tracking/wasting of time.

Allow me to infuse a word regarding expectations; actually several words.  Those of you who are “A” type personalities will have researched each of the nearly one hundred lodging opportunities, dozen or so restaurants, and various activities; visited, re-visited and printed reviews from TripAdvisor  and even, oh please tell me not,  purchased the Yelapa movie (Which way, por favor?)  Others venture here, especially those from the Portland area, simply on the recommendation of a friend, a hair-dresser, or a travel agent. The last category of trekkers are the hardy hiker types. They shlep huge strap bearing containers on their backs. Leap off the water taxi at the main beach and in five minutes are consuming the good, albeit basic, life in the shadow of a pitched techno-tent.  Over the following few hours, each group will incubate uniquely diverse expectations. My point is that no amount of research can prepare you for the sound of the wind blowing through the Parthenon, or the scent inside the Sistine Chapel or the rush you feel when your water taxi captain opens the throttle. The less fettered by expectations, the greater your experience. Just a thought.   

Let’s talk about stuffing your bag. My comments relate only to your stay in Yelapa. If you are visiting other destinations, you’re on your own. Hopefully, your visit with us will not be any shorter than three days. Having said that, bring three tops, three pair of under-alls, one pair of khaki shorts, one swim suit, a pair of flip-flops dedicated for inside only, and a pair of Teva-type sandals for outside only. The distinction will become apparent upon your arrival. Sunblock (30 SPF) and deet laden bug spray. This list is gender neutral. That’s pretty much it. If your good fortune involves a stay of a week or more, simply add one to each of the items listed. Either wash your own soiled wear mid-stay or drop it off in the morning at Ley’s Laundry for pick-up that afternoon. If you plan on bringing a laptop with you, place a medium sized garbage bag into the case. Cover the case prior to departing on the water taxi. Note:  None of the locals care about how fabulous the visitors appear, only that they appear appropriately.

How much to tip is always an issue for Americans. In general, we tip too much which communicates that we all reside in a gated community called The Seven Cities of Cibola. Tipping for meals runs 10%-15%. Dinner maybe upwards of 20% if you have enjoyed excellent service and superior food. All waiters on the main beach, as well as most of those in town work for tips, that’s it.  Luggage bearers with their wheelbarrows, are available if you desire,  at the town pier. Depending on the size and number of your bags, 10p-20p per bag is a guideline. There are no ATMs or cash windows in Yelapa. While a few restaurants are now accepting credit/debit cards, cash is your best bet. There are ATMs (cajeras) all over Puerto Vallarta including at the airport. With current exchange rates around 13:1, 5000 mx pesos will equal close to $400 USD.  Many locals will accept USDs but exchange them at 10:1 to keep the math easy. (i.e. 100 mx p equals $10 USD). Alert your credit/debit card company that you will be traveling and using your cards in Mexico. This will avoid generating a fraud alert and a lock out on your card. An event which can take days to unwind and untold roaming charges. I speak from experience.

Yelapa is a village of working people. During this time of the year, the vast majority work toward imparting to you, their guest, the most gracious experience they can. The village is not a high end, all inclusive resort, never will be. Locals will greet you with their eyes, and respond with a smile to any utterance remotely resembling “hola” or “buenos dias.” Leave your “other world” behind, after all it was Yelapa you came to experience, right?

Commercial Break: (The camera closes in on a rainbow collage of kayaks. A bronzed Adonis reclines under an umbrella, a frosty water in his hand.)

(he speaks:) “ Hola, I’m Memo and I run a kayak and water sports rental operation at the Playita. We offer single/double kayaks, boogie boards, and soon-to-be a pair of paddle boards. All are available to you, our visitor, for your recreational pleasure. (camera fades , the lapping of small waves crescendos) Yep that’s me, except the Adonis part—the producer added that  !!!

Off to birria.

Rituals

Today is Sunday, right? This day embraces more ritualism globally than any other. Ponder for just a moment. Sunday begins with some type of morning ritual— sleeping in late, physical intimacy- BC (before children), pancakes, waffles, brunch out-BC, consuming the Sunday paper, attending church; some type of afternoon ritual— phone calls to distant family members, meal with the extended family, sports on the TV, physical intimacy- BFB (before football); some type of evening ritual—preparing for work or school, perhaps a return to church, more sports on the TV, or even some type of intellectual engagement on the TV. At some pre-selected hour, we ceremoniously close with the ritual of re-visiting our sleeping platforms.

Yelapa is no less defined by rituals than any other geographic cluster. Allow me to share mine. The morning opens with a full body stretch and a right half-pivot. The overlapping netting separates and I immerge. Within two steps, Nikki is at my side exhibiting a full-bodied “Good Morning.” She is fed, watered and I draw a mug of my favorite Mexican coffee (coincidentally, it is called Memo’s) and adjourn to the couch. My morning unfolds, not with the passage of time, but with the occurrence of events. There is a difference! The shadows overhanging the mountains are chased into the bay; the odd remnant of a cloud escapes from upriver, pangueros ply their morning trade as hand signals of greeting are exchanged. Ah, but today is Sunday, right? That means birria at Ray’s Shambhala.

The seductive tones of Mexican music beckon. I am Odysseus navigating around the Sirens; I investigate. Upon entering, I am greeted by multiple smiles, some from fellow customers, the balance from Ray’s family and staff. Ascending to the Tree House level, I plunk down at my usual table, usual chair. The ritual unfolds. My order is unchanging: three tacos, one consommé, and a Bloody Maria.  Another event ensues. A small spider resembling a leaf fragment powered by tiny legs creeps into focus . It undertakes the ritual of web building. Ambling counter-clockwise, this tiny creature replicates exact angle after angle as it journeys over larger circles, a flawless work-in-progress. I remain mesmerized until jolted by Alexa who ferries my order. Complimenting a plate bearing three double-plied tortillas filled with birria meat are four small bowls. They contain: cut limes, chopped onions and cilantro, a green guacamole- based salsa, and a red jalapena-based salsa. Let the birria ritual begin. My fingers sprinkle onions through each of the individual tacos; the same action is repeated with cilantro. The guacamole salsa is dribbled liberally onto each taco and any remainder is added to the consommé. The red salsa must be surgically distributed as to amount and location. Lastly, four drops of lime juice descend equidistantly into each taco; this is a science folks. The sirens wail; I am seduced. The first taste forces one, sometimes both eyes to roll while a guttural “mmmmmmm” escapes. This ritual repeats with each bite, through each taco.

As I push away from the table, I catch a glimpse of my tiny companion. It appears to reside at the exact point where my gaze left it moments earlier. No doubt, it became as absorbed in my ritual as I had with his?  We bid each other a ritualistic good bye. Que le vaya bien. (That all goes well with you)

Kayak a day ...

I had intended to ponder my new techno-toy for a week or so before crafting the next post. Even in paradise, stuff happens unexpectedly. Allow me to quickly set the stage. A few months ago, my best friend, Fernando, and I acquired several kayaks and began the largest, best equipped kayak rental operation here in Yelapa. Having “yaked” several times while living on the Central Coast of California, I embraced this opportunity to return not only to an activity I thoroughly enjoyed in my younger days but to re-acquire the svelte, taut body that went with it. Film at eleven on that part.

Indulge me further, the stage is almost set, fast forward to Tuesday; October 16, 2012.The alarm pierces my peacefulness at 7:30 a.m. Nikki has her breakfast while I enjoy half of a pan dulce expertly pared with two mugs of rich Mexican coffee. Ok, pay attention now here’s the real beginning of this post. Yesterday’s clouds, occasioned by the passing of Hurricane Paul, are succeeded by crystal morning skies. A heightened energy level resides.  I dash down stairs and head for my “yaks.”  Within a hand full of minutes I’ve launched my favorite yellow Frenzy and head out on my typical loop around Yelapa Bay.  Dolphin dorsal fins appear then disappear as a pod of adolescents search for breakfast on the run. The interior waters are calm this morning unlike the swells of yesterday which crashed against house-sized boulders and spewed sea mist to the tree line. I approach the Lagunita Pier which identifies the final corner on my loop (Do loops have corners?) and paddle back toward La Playita—home base. The tide has risen above its norm causing the River Tuito to expand bank-to-bank before surging into the bay. Their merger creates a visual display which humbles. Incoming bay swells smash their way up river while exiting river current rears wave-like and passes through an apparent foe to re-emerge out the back side.

The visual and auditory display memorialize the forces of nature. It is not an event which beckons to the intermediate “yakker.”  Proceeding into the turmoil demands an appreciation of the merging rhythms of two opposing wave sets: surfing the crest of the incoming bay wave so that my kayak (and I) can then be handed off to surf the backside of the approaching river wave. I must then paddle feverishly to break free and pass into the calm flow of the river. It’s a heart pounder.

The Tuito, perhaps a hundred feet across, passes laden with silt. The flow originates from tropical summer storms in transit over Cabo Corrientes, our county . It is a task performed for countless centuries. My kayak and I become a grain of history.  Rounding the river’s first corner, I am surrounded by a vista which mirrors the great Amazon. The shoreline grants refuge to countless avian waders, tree sitters, high fliers and insect chasers. Most ignore my presence, others gaze skeptically. Trios and quartets of dark ducks scatter in advance of my arrival. A soft yet subtle scratching noise breaks the spell; an unforeseen sandbar halts further progress. Dislodging is effortless as the bow pivots to retrace earlier aquatic steps. My vessel and I slip down river and re-unite with the bay. Once again I realize that I live in The Nature Channel.

It was a great day to be a Yelapan!    

Viva!!!

Over the next few weeks, I will be setting up this blog (Yelapa Memo) with the expressed intent of bringing to the periodic visitor, the want-to-be visitor, as well as the couple who knows somebody who has a hair dresser that read an article in Sunset Magazine about Yelapa, the everyday joys and tribulations of life here in our peaceful Mexican village. At the request of several good, as well as many yet to become friends, this forum will provide a somewhat central source for all happenings Yelapan. Be forewarned that anecdotes will be told as seen through my eyes and with ample, if not substantial amounts of tongue-in-cheek applied.

If you are in search of specifics regarding lodging, dining, water taxi schedules or weather; there are already numerous sites available. I encourage all of you to visit TripAdvisor.com to read the comments of others in the areas of activities, lodging, hotels and restaurants. Yelapa is somewhat like taking a cruise; you can do as much or as little as you please and no one, at least none of us locals, will nudge you to do more. Plus, you only have to be on a boat forty minutes one way from Puerto Vallarta or Boca de Tomatlan and you're here.

October finds our village of twelve hundred inhabitants abuzz with behind the scene activities. Lodging entrepreneurs are returning from their stateside or Canadian summer haunts to paint, plaster, buff and shine anything and everything that doesn't move. That has been known to include, on occasion, several local dogs. Restaurateurs are re-scouring kitchens and patio dining sites in anticipation of opening night. Water Taxi schedules will all take on a new and expanded presence by the end of the month. We are busy people. Come on, did you think that paradise just happened?

One word, actually several words, about local etiquette. If you were a reasonable, mature, intelligent human being when you boarded your flight to come here, please remain that way once you arrive. Dress in our village is casual. A pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and sandals will have you welcomed anywhere. Enjoy your libations either in the numerous great restaurants or in your room. Our cobblestone streets and the hills they traverse are not user- friendly to those who  abandon control of their balance. Bear in mind there are no public services in Yelapa. There is no public trash pick up nor street cleaning. All this is addressed by proud locals who attend to the street in front of their homes. We all live in this fragile environment as guests. Thank you! 

More later-I have a siesta in my near future.