Surviving Mexico

We were fairly certain if we ever went to Mexico again we'd end up kidnapped by the drug cartel, sold into slavery, and beheaded.  Not necessarily in that order.  We had thoroughly bought into the media hype about how dangerous it was for an American to travel to Mexico these days.  

Through a series of unexpected events, all of our fears were challenged when we found ourselves with a townhouse for a week near Puerto Vallarta in a little fishing town called La Cruz de Huanacaxtle.  Or, to us, "La Cruz" because I don't know how to pronounce Huanacaxtle without sounding like I'm coughing up a hairball.

People, I'm here to tell you, it was dangerous.  We had several very close calls, but I've managed to recover enough to share these with you.  One particularly suspect moment was when we were on an ATV tour through the jungle.  I think the original plan was for the guides to lead us straight into a cartel lair where the drug lords would hold us for ransom.   Our prolific posting on social media saved us (ALWAYS get pictures of your guides).   They realized that they needed to resort to a plan much more subtle and tricky.  

Hubby and I as we set off for sure disaster

Interspersed throughout a joy ride of lush tropical scenery, river crossings and wildlife sightings, they made us stop for so-called "breaks."  During these shrewdly managed breaks, they plied us with beer, food, and endless amounts of delicious tequila tastings while continuously making us laugh and smile.  I suspect they were planning to get us so drunk on chocolate cream tequila that we'd agree to be drug runners, sex slaves, or at the very least, clean their toilets.  Luckily, the flavored tequilas that I liked best had a lower alcohol content so I was able to keep my head about me and drive us back to safety (following the guides, of course, because otherwise I would've gotten lost). 

Another close call was when I agreed to a massage on the gorgeous beach in a cute surfing village called Sayulita.   Over the course of an hour, the masseuse attempted to massage me into a state of unconsciousness while a warm breeze tickled my skin and the sound of the crashing waves whispered gently in my ears.  It would've worked too if she hadn't hit the reflexology point on my hand that represents my liver.  Every Pacifico, margarita, mojito, and tequila shot I'd consumed rallied to wake me right up.  

Sitting on the beach just before my near death experience.

Seriously, the most dangerous thing about Mexico -- especially the places we visited -- was having so much fun and just feeling so comfortable and relaxed that we lost all cares of the "real world." We considered selling our worldly possessions, putting our kids up for adoption, and setting up permanent residence in two lounge chairs on the beach next to other blissed-out tourists. 

---

La Cruz turned out to be full of surprises.  We found a great beach front club featuring this colorful artwork. 

Very tasty and cheap tacos at a place convincingly named, Tacos on the Street.  We even found a German restaurant called Black Forest run by a friendly and entertaining German family that served up a garlic soup to die for.

We listened to a very talented band called Trez Quatroz at the Gecko Rojo bar where my dart geek hubby found his own slice of heaven.  The band even had groupies -- a trio from England who had formed a Monday and Thursday night dart league.

While we really preferred the quieter villages of La Cruz and Sayulita, Puerto Vallarta certainly has its charms and plenty of opportunity to party with characters such as this flying cow.  The bar featured "Big Gulp"-sized Pacificos in a styrofoam cup complete with a straw.

An impressive sand sculpture along the Puerto Vallarta boardwalk.

This is my new house on the hills of Sayulita!   (*someday*)  Don't you think the Italian restaurant would deliver?

Have you been to Mexico?  What's your favorite place?