Saturday Farmers' Market

Saturday morning Diana and I descend the hill from our home and briskly walk to the pier. Our objective --the 8:30ish water taxi into Puerto Vallarta. We arrive at the base of the town pier and head out to the approaching taxi. After greeting Chico, the captain; Victor, the helper plus half a dozen familiar faces  we commence our traverse of Banderas Bay. Having made this journey many times, I close my eyes, relax my muscles and float along rocking-horse style to the rhythm of the sea. Other less frequent travelers oooh and aaah at the variety of the fauna existent in the jungle, point and gasp at passing dolphins, whales or manta-rays and giggle at the occasional smack on the boat’s bottom. The mood is upbeat.

Everyone exits the water taxi at the new Los Muertos Pier. While it is more convenient than trudging through the water to hike across the beach as previously required, exiting the taxi onto the pier still requires caution and alertness. We bid “buenos dias” to our travel mates and march down our usual route to a set of ATMs (cajeras automaticas).  Saturday in Puerto Vallarta’s Romantic Zone is a busy time. The restaurants are full and there are frequently lines up in front of the ATMs as visitors fill their pockets with pesos and spend them judiciously at the farmer’s market.

Diana and I head up Basilio Badillo Street to a favorite breakfast stop, The Pancake House, which is not related to IHOP although they employ identical colors on their sign.   Several cups of coffee, two large plates of breakfast and we are ready to join the masses on the street cruising the countless stalls and table tops of the Saturday Market vendors. Surprisingly, nearly three fourths of these vendors are ex-pats or snowbird Americans or Canadians. Available for purchase are all manner of food stuffs, apparel, jewelry, flutes, massage therapists and chiropractors. The atmosphere is electric with sights, sounds and smells. Time passes quickly in the Zona Romantica and the eleven o’clock hour approaches. At this point, we separate; Diana continues shopping while I head up one block to the dentist’s office to acquire a pair of new fillings.

I have known only one person who relished going to the dentist. I am not one of those people. Nothing brings me to my emotional knees faster than the sight/sound of a high speed dental drill. But this event is strangely different. Allow me to digress a moment. Shortly after our arrival in Yelapa, Diana and I read about a group of eight dental professionals  who were opening a second office in the Zona Romantica. All the office staff and practioners were bilingual. The practice, Just Smiles, (www.justsmiles.com.mx/) was formed to serve the dental needs of the local ex-pats as well as the visiting English speaking public. Appointments are generally available on demand and ALL work is performed by dentists. The first time Diana and I visited, our teeth were cleaned by an orthodontist. The equipment reflects the latest in technology and the facilities are spotless. Ok, that’s the background let us return to my two cavities. I am greeted and invited upstairs by my attending dentist. She is a petite, barely five foot tall, lean mean dental machine. On the top shelf in her examination room I spy a pair of red boxing gloves. I jest with her inquiring if that’s what she uses instead of Novocain. She smiles tolerantly, and comments that she enjoys boxing as a form of exercise. I promise to behave. She plies her profession and after a period of time states that all is well and I am free to go. Then, almost as an aside, she turns to me and in perfect English tells me that she actually did three fillings but that there would be no additional charge since she had only discussed two in my earlier visit. I reach for the counter top to steady myself, having just felt the full impact of a powerful right upper cut. We smile warmly at each and I descend the stairs to pay my bill. The young lady behind the reception desk prints my receipt and informs me that today’s visit will cost $56 USD. I turn with what must have been a look of shock to Diana who has just entered the waiting area. From some unknown well within my throat the following words stumble off my lips, “I think I’m learning to enjoy coming to the dentist.” Diana just shakes her head.