For a few weeks before spring break, Holly and Caitlin invited me to join them in traveling to
Puerto Vallarta for a few days, and I gladly agreed. The only set-back was that they told me that a few of their Mexican friends, specifically Holly’s “Mexican boy-friend” Jair, were going to accompany us. I preferred a “girls’” beach trip, but it’d probably be safer with them, and Rafael was going to plan the trip concerning bus tickets and lodging. I decided to myself that this could make up for their being guys…
Well, Easter Sunday, the day before we were originally supposed to leave, no one knew anything about any plans. I personally really wanted to go, so I chose to take matters into my own hands. I searched on the internet for tickets, but to my horror, everything to Puerto Vallarta was sold out. With my host family’s help, I then searched for tickets to other beaches, which we also sold out. My excitement was crashing down, but my determination was still strong. (Especially because I thought traveling would make the time go faster as I waited Ryan’s arrival.)
When my host father saw that I was getting nowhere, he came to the living room where I was sitting, sat down, and with a serious, straightforward tone, he said, “¡Hay que tener aventura!” which means, “You have to have adventure!” Then he proceeded to tell me it was worth the risk to go the bus station w/o tickets and try to make it there, if not directly, with a few stops in between. Margarita, my host mother, told me that we should leave that night because the travel time is 9 hours, and otherwise, we wouldn’t have much time at the beach. Señor Luis assured me it was safe enough, since there were 3 of us, and he also told be how to find a hotel at 5 a.m. when we arrived.
When the girls came over to discuss our plans, I told them the idea and let them know I was all for it. Holly backed out (my theory: her Mexican friend wasn’t going anymore.) And contrary to my concerns, Caitlin stood firm—she liked the idea of the unknown, adventure, and going as far as we could—two white girls literally in the middle of Mexico!!! So, because time was of essence, we agreed to pack as fast as we could as meet down town in an hour, what was 9:30.
Holly’s host mother drove us to the bus station in Gto, and we bought our tickets to Leon, a bigger station with a bigger chance of getting what we wanted. We were nervous and a little scared, but totally excited and wild about what we were about to embark on. We took pictures with our first tickets. On the dark bus ride to Leon, we had to stand because the Mexican custom is to put as many people in a vehicle as possible, haha. It was amusing to see a young Mexican boy, dressed punk style, listening to loud music (Blink 182) on his “walkman,” and at the same time, hearing the Mariah Carey music the bus driver was playing.
In Leon, they had sold out of all tickets to Puerto Vallarta as we feared, but we found tickets to Guadalajara, which is about half way there. We decided if we got stranded in Guadalajara it wouldn’t be too bad, especially since Señor Luis tell me that “todo lo que es mexicano es de Guadalajara,” or “all of what is Mexican is from Guadalaja,” for example, Tequila, Mariachi, los Chivos (soccer team), etc. My serendipity (unexpected pleasure) was that during holidays, students receive 50% discounts! Therefore what would have been $120 US, ended up being $60!!! (And we took first class or “Primera Plus,” which provides you with a drink, sandwich and cookies!)
Fortunately, in Guadalajara we found tickets to the beach! And because our 1 hour layover turned into a 2 hour layover, we amused ourselves by playing the classic middle school “M.A.S.H.” game. I think I ended up driving an old truck, living in Cambodia, married to Ryan with four children, living in an apartment. Haha. We also played hangman. Good times. Unfortunately, the bus stations charge you 3 pesos to use their restrooms, but sometimes you just have to suck it up and pay, especially before another 4 hour bus ride.
On the bus, two teenagers played their loud rap music for a couple hours, but we were able to get about 3 hours of “bus sleep.”
We arrived later than planned in Puerto Vallarta, around 10, which was actually better, because it’s always safer looking for a hotel in the daytime! We grabbed a taxi and asked him to take us to the Centro, as Señor suggested us to do. When he asked us where in the Centro, we had know idea, but I told him we were looking for a hostal. Then he informed us there’s only one in P.V. and he proceeded to drive us through town, through a tunnel, and then up, what seemed like a mountain. 
We began to worry because we were traveling farther and farther away from the beach and from touristy looking places, but right before we told him to turn around, we arrived at the Oasis hostal. Although we had no idea how far from the beach we were, nor whether there were any open rooms, the taxi driver dumped us there on the side of the road. We lugged our suitcases up the door and knocked. A young girl, who knew neither a lot of Spanish nor English (who later I found out to be a Russian from one of those former-Soviet countries) let us in. There were, indeed, open beds, and it cost us $15 US/night. Not bad for the beach, which was only a 15 minute walk away. Also, before we left, she talked us into buying tickets for an excursion boat ride the next day, for $35 US, which included open bar, breakfast, lunch, snorking, hiking, swimming, and a tour of some private beaches! Although we really had no idea what we were buying, our adventurous spirit had not worn off!
We walked towards the beach and stopped at The Pancake house for breakfast. The food was excellent, the restaurant beautiful, with plants inside and lots of sunlight, and we also met a guy seated near us who told us about some of the nearby beaches. He invited us to meet him later that night at a concert in a nearby park, but we gave him no promises. He was very friendly, and asked for our contact information, but we gave him no more than our email addresses.
Finally at the beach, we bought some towels (which we both
forgot), and soaked up some sun! Ahh. It was gorgeous Every once in a while, we’d take turns running down to the water, but for the most part we enjoyed relaxing after a full night’s bus ride. At one point, our friend from breakfast approached us again, which weirded us out since he told us he was going to a different beach, so we decided we wouldn’t be meeting him that night!
Later we took a stroll down the beach, enjoying the view and beachy sounds. I was pleased that it really wasn’t overcrowded. As frequently happens, we experienced the usual "piropos," or cat calls, but one of them actually amused us; in a broken English we hear, "Tank-yoo fur makeen Puerto Vallarta moor bee-oo-tee-full!" (We did what we could...)
Super excited WE MADE IT TO THE BEACH!!! And wasn't it beautiful?!?!
We decided to eat dinner at a nice restaurant on the beach, so that we could watch the sunset while we dinned. 
(A friendly Canadien couple took our picture.) Turned out to be a great choice of a restaurant, food and view-wise. We were exhausted, but fully contented with how things were turning out—prices, setting, and all. We felt sooo independent and self-sufficient at having gotten around so! We figured had we planned everything our beforehand, it couldn't have gone better so far!
After showering, we met one of our hostal roommates named Katlijn (pronounced Caitlin), from Holland. We invited her to come with us on the excursion the next day, and to our amusement, she agreed. Hans, from our school program, was also coming in the next morning, and we hoped that he would make it in time for the boat ride, too.
Yes, I curled my hair (slept in my sponge curlers...one of the simlest ways to deal with hair, really) and vainly took pictures of myself this a.m. But because the curls slowly fall throughout the day, I thought someone should witness the initial Shirley Temple look…
Today I after church, I also went to eat with Margarita at her conference for comida. They meet in this place here which leads to the garden/patio where we ate. Apparently, many people who have conferences in Guanajuato meet here. 
The ladies that I spoke with at the pink table are R to L: Esme (or Esmeralda), can’t remember the next pink girl’s name, Poncho, Susi, little Margarita, the bigger Margarits (my host mom), and Myrna. They were all delightful ladies, and we chatted the whole time. They complimented me on my Spanish many times, and frankly, I really understood them well. I thought to myself that my Spanish is pretty darn good. I even cracked a few jokes that every laughed at and added to (you know it’s good when everyone keeps the joke going.) But then later tonight as I listened to Margarita chat to Dante, Flaco, and Valeria (her children), I understood very little. I’d like to say that they mumble and talk fast, but that’s not a good excuse. So then I felt back in my place of feeling a little alienated by still present language barrier. But now I’d just call it the language sheet.
