Travels in Mexico Part 3
 Michael Rule - YourHub
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We drove north up Hwy 200, past Bucerias, past the high rises going up and the gated entries and the turn off to Punta Mita. Eventually the traffic thinned and we were in the country. The road winded about with jungle on both sides, thick and covered in vines, opening up to the occasional small village, or pueblo. We passed fields of agave, growing to be distilled into tequila. Eventually we decided it was time to stop for a bite to eat, turning off at the sign for the playa at Rincon de Guayabitos.
Rincon, as it is called, is a small town setting on a lovely bay with a beach stretching for miles. Many Norte Americanos have discovered this place and come here, often for weeks at a time, yet the vibe of the locals is still welcoming, the ceviche excellent, and the cervesas cold. We found a room and stayed the night.
One of the things Susan and I enjoy is finding the small, out of the way, hole in the wall restaurants, of which Mexico has thousands. The food can range from basic and bland to basic and great,and the prices arealways a bargain. We found one here, where the cook grilled out front by the street and the tables are in the back.
We sat down and ordered; pasole for me, tacos de pescado for Susan. The food was excellent. We talked with a retired English gentleman at the table next to us. He had grown up in the slums of London. He had spent 20 years working in the finance sector of Hong Kong. We talked about the economy, about our President Obama, and about the wealth of the world. I found him fascinating. He gave us his website, where he discusses world economics. I plan to look it up when I get home. It is amazing; you just never know who you'll meet in these out of the way dives in these out of the way towns of Mexico.
Oh yes, before I forget. The cost, for a large bowl of posole, a plate of fish tacos with all the condiments, hot tortillas and 2 ice cold beers? Seventy-eight pesos, or about 6 dollars American. Muchas gracias, senor. Muy bien.
The next day we drove up to San Blas. A hurricane came through it in 2001, and today the beach sits lonely, with thatch covered, open air palapas standing silent before an empty beach. We watched the sun go down, a bright orange orb settling into the sea. We spent the night in a fine hotel, and in the morning we drove back. We spent another night in the same hotel in Rincon. We decided it was time to see the montanas. The next day we got up and did just that.
Mascota sits in a valley, surrounded by mountains. To reach it you first cross the Valle de Banderas, a broad plain behind Puerto Vallarta. This is farm land, dry this time of year, and dusty, and then you wind your way through the mountains, and the land dries out even more, and soon you are in pine trees, long needled and growing in sometimes odd shapes, and then you are coming down into more farmland, but now drier still, and in front of you lies Mascota.
The town feels old; you can see it in the adobe buildings with courtyards in the center, the cobble stone streets, and the fine old church that sits in the center by the plaza. On a Saturday afternoon it seemed deserted, but we found a room.
The Hotel de Meson is an old and historic building, located near the center of town, and when you walk through the entryway you find yourself in a courtyard, with tiled floors and potted plants and tables set about. Our room sat ina corner, with tall double doors and inside a king sized bed and next to that an open air sitting room, very private, with walls 15 feet high opening to the sky and a fountain you could turn on to drown out any outside noise. It was magnificent.
Social life in Mexico centers around the plaza, almost always near the church in the town centro, and Sunday night is the most social of all, when families come together, and old men and women sit on the benches, and vendors sell corn and tacos and sweets. It is something we in the States have lost, or maybe never had, with our mega stores with even bigger parking lots, where everything built new is built for the automobile.
Walking about that day we heard music coming from a building. Inside was a large room, with high ceilings, and along one wall were set tables in a row, where people sat eating. In front of them, lined up and dressed in traditional Mexican suits was a 10 piece band, playing for their entertainment. This is what we had heard. From the doorway Susan and I listened, and though it was obviously a private party, sometimes members of the band would turn and smile, and so we stood there for a while, and the music was fabulous.
Later that same Sunday the plaza was closed off, and soon the people began to arrive, and before long there were perhaps 2 or 3 hundred, and after it was dark we witnessed a very unique and charming event.
Around the plaza, which was square and maybe 150 feet on each side, people walked while a DJ played music. On the outside, and going clockwise, were mostly teenage girls, arm in arm and in a continuous line. On the inside, or perhaps on the outside looking nonchalant, were the boys, on the inside walking in the opposite direction, on the outside standing in groups. On the benches sat the old men and the old women.
On one side vendors sold bags of confetti. If a boy wished to walk with a certain girl he would purchase the confetti and throw it on her, or perhaps just make a sound, a sort of tch tch tch, and if she accepted they would walk, arm in arm, and this was a courtship ritual, and watching I could not help but wonder how many of these old men and women watching had met the same way.
Susan and I joined them for a time, arm in arm while the music played, and the boys looked at the girls, and the girls looked at the boys, and some tossed confetti, and then they too would walk, arm in arm, while the old men and the old women looked on.
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Vallarta Weddings
Travel & Outdoors | February 2009 
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