A Whale of a Baby

Everyone loves a baby, but what if the baby is 20 feet long and weighs 2 tons? The answer is still "yes" and this baby might even have been described as “cute” despite its size.

We were near the end of a five-hour whale-watching tour in Banderas Bay off Puerto Vallarta when we had one of those delicious moments of serendipity. The cruise, in a speedy little Zodiac raft run by Ecotours, had started slowly. Our guides, Ricardo, a marine biologist, and Oscar, the boat captain, admitted later they were worried we weren’t going to see many whales.

Right away we had spotted a group of three whales but things quieted after that. All the whales in Banderas Bay in the winter are humpback whales. They summer along the northern Pacific coast up to Alaska. Ricardo told us the humpbacks only come to Banderas to mate, or try to mate, and never eat anything. They obviously lose much of their 80,000 pounds while they’re here (for more about humpbacks, click here).

Watching whales is a lot like watching birds. There’s a lot of waiting and then suddenly something happens. Whales surface every 5-to-15 minutes to breath but they keep moving so you never know where they’re going to be.

We kept moving around the bay, skimming along the swells as we moved to the north, almost to new resort area along Punta de Mita at the end of the bay. Sometimes a pelican or brown-footed booby would race alongside, but quickly became bored and flew away. Every now and then Oscar or Ricardo would see another whale and we’d veer off. We saw perhaps a dozen whales, none too closely (partly due to Mexican ecological rules). At one point we stopped and Ricardo lowered a microphone equipped with speakers so we could hear a male humpback singing.

We had to be back to the marina by 1 p.m. so with about an hour left Oscar turned up the motor and shot off to the south, passing the small towns of La Cruz and Bucerias as we went, then Nuevo Vallarta. Ricardo called out that he’d seen another whale in the distance and we headed that way. As we closed, perhaps 250-300 yards away, we saw a male humpback breach, throwing its huge body most of the way out of the water and then coming down with a belly flop to end all belly flops.

We followed the male a little while but then cranked up the motor again. We were in sight of the entrance to the marina when Ricardo saw another whale off to the side of the Zodiac. He killed the engine and we just sat for a minute or two. Then the most remarkable thing happened. The whale, which turned out to be a relatively newborn calf, swam closer to the raft until it was 10-15 feet away. It lazily swam in a half-circle around the boat, rolling slowly onto its side so that it could see us with one of its eyes. The whole episode took just a few minutes before what we presumed to be its mother rose to the surface 50 feet away and, after apparently signaling the curious child, they both disappeared.

(End note: This was our second tour with Ecotours, which was recommended to us by Andrea and others. The other was a bird-watching tour to the 17th Century mining town of San Sebastian. We saw 27 tropical forest species, including an Elegant Trogon and a Mountain Trogon. The latter, relatively rare, has a bright red breast, white throat and iridescent green head and back. We also visited a small coffee plantation, where, of course, we bought coffee.)

Obama en Mexico

We were walking past the Hotel Mercurio in Puerto Vallarta and out of the corner of my eye, in the lobby, I saw the image of a tall, dark man dressed in a black suit. It was Barack Obama. Actually it was a life-size cardboard cutout of his photo. He was standing next to the window where guests check in, perhaps to welcome everyone to the hotel.

A couple of days later, walking past the hotel again since it is next door to Casa Andrea, I saw Obama’s twin, also standing in the lobby. As the days advanced, Obama II kept shifting his position in the lobby, retreating from the open door, perhaps because the ocean breezes were blowing him over. I don’t think it was a political statement.

Today, inauguration day, we got up, grabbed some coffee to drink, and a bowl of fruit, yogurt and granola, and sat down by the pool-side TV to watch Obama get sworn in. Seven of us, two ladies from Vancouver and the rest from various parts of the U.S. One of the couples was from San Francisco and said they lived just down the street from Sen. Dianne Feinstein, who coordinated the inaugural. They also had backed Hilary Clinton in the primaries, donating enough money that they had met Hilary and her husband at some event.

All the Americans and Canadians we’ve met in Puerto Vallarta have been Obama supporters. Either that or Bush detractors. Mexicans too. Not sure what that means. Adam, who works at Casa Andrea, remarked about Bush, Chinga tu madre, which is about the worst thing a Mexican can say to someone. All of us watching the TV inaugural were happy about Obama coming and Bush leaving. No big show of emotion but some clapping and smiles. I didn’t think Obama was talking about retirees like myself when he said Americans should work to help their country, not seek leisure.

Later on inauguration day we were walking past the Hotel Mercurio again and I noticed the Obama cutouts were gone. I asked the hotel clerk where they were and he said they had rented them out to the botanic gardens for the day. Some of the guests at Casa Andrea had gone to the gardens on inauguration day and told us the restaurant was closed for what apparently was a fundraiser. In addition to the 40 peso entrance fee, people could pay something like 500 pesos (about $40 USD) for a private luncheon and celebration. The gardens are owned by a Texan, although they are a non-profit.

There was a TV at the botanic gardens so people could watch the inaugural, and the speeches were broadcast over the loudspeaker system along the tree-lined paths. A Canadian couple we met sat among the coffee trees and listened to Obama’s address. Jill, an American who voted for Obama, said she was put off by the extra fee to get into the lunch.

We also learned that the Obama cutouts were used as props at the luncheon. American flags lined the tables. There also was at least one cutout of a George W. Bush photo. People could pay extra money to throw things at W’s image. If you hit W you won an Obama T-shirt.

Adios Carlos

Anyone who ever came to Puerto Vallarta will remember Carlos O’Brian’s, even if you never went to the watering hole best known for the drunkeness that spilled onto Puerto Vallarta’s Malecon. Carlos O'Brian's has been in operation since 1971, just 7 years after Richard and Elizabeth made PV famous during the filming of that iguana film. Personally, I never went closer than the front steps, honest.

As we were driving into PV a week ago the cab driver pointed out Carlos’ place and told us it had closed, never to reopen. The bar was purchased by another larger chain (I don’t remember but maybe Senor Frog) in October and has been closed.

Today, when we walked down the Malecon, workers had built plywood fences around the building (see photo) and they had started work on it. They were using sledgehammers and chisels to start removing part of the roof. We don’t know what’s going to happen to the building but it’s location right on the Malecon in the busiest part of El Centro makes it prime real estate. Condos anyone?

Jesus Saves

Jesus looked down on us as we got on the bus. From his perch, he could see everyone who got on or off. Jesus’ 6x8 color image was glued to the bus’ ceiling just above the steps. The graphic was surrounded by gold-colored fringe that hung down about 4 inches, so it wasn’t easy right away to spot Jesus.

We were headed back to Casa Andrea after spending an hour shopping at Puerto Vallarta’s spiffy Super Wal-Mart near the Marina. The Wal-Mart, new since we were here last, is gigantic. More than half of it is groceries. There are some American brands but most of them are Mexican (some of which we can buy in Colorado). There’s a large produce section near the front of the store, at least as large as any of the King Sooper’s stores near our home. Of course, the produce section is filled with fruits and vegetables you might not find in the U.S., like “tuna roja,” the pear-shaped fruit of a large cactus found all over Mexico’s deserts.

The bus ride from Parque Lazaro Cardenas, about 4 blocks from Casa Andrea where Calle Olas Altas hits the Malecon, takes about 30 minutes. Maybe a third of the passengers are norte Americanos. You know which bus to take first by asking directions to the bus stop and then because the destinations are painted in white on the windshield. Each bus has a list of several places it’s going. On the way out we got on the one that said “Wal-Mart” and coming back we found one that said “Centro.” The driver of the second even helpfully told us where to get off.

Riding the bus, if you’ve got time, is by far the best way to get around PV. The cab ride from the airport to Casa Andrea cost us 230 pesos. The bus to Wal-Mart, which is not too far from the airport, cost 11 pesos for two. You have to put up with the jouncey ride created by the cobblestone streets and the twists and turns when the driver swerves out of the way of a car or hits the brakes to avoid a collision.

I read an editorial in a PV magazine that complained about how many buses there are in the city. The editorial said local politicians keep adding bus operators to pay off a political debt of some sort. There are a lot of buses, but there are far more taxi cabs, many more than when we were here last. Maybe they multiply for the same reason. Streets are lined with the little yellow cabs, some with their drivers taking a nap or talking with other cabbies.

The taxis in our experience are clean and efficient. They get you places faster than the bus, but they don’t give you the same cultural experience. When we took the bus back from the botanic gardens most of the passengers were Mexican. When we got off, a man clambered off behind us with two packages grasped in his hands. From his left hand dangled a cage with a black rooster inside. The right hand held a cardboard box with many holes cut in it but we couldn’t see inside; there might have been another chicken inside that the man wanted to conceal. Perhaps a fighting cock or two? Who knows?

Every bus is decorated differently, although we haven’t seen any like we saw in Durango that had names painted on the front, names like “El Tigre del Norte.” It seems the drivers now are pretty much confined to decorating the inside, usually with religious objects like La Virgen de Guadalupe or Jesus. Perhaps they help keep everyone safe.

(Photo looking through a bus windshield, note the word “Sams” signaling Sams Club, which is next to the Wal-Mart.)

Breakfast at Andrea's

Casa Andrea is a collection of apartments built around an interior courtyard, but run as a bed-and-breakfast. The outside world is, for the most part, kept outside by the wrought iron gates and high wall at the front. You walk through the gates into a brick-and-stone courtyard dotted with tropical plants. Some, especially the purple bougainvillea at the front, are in bloom but mostly it’s a sense of greenery.

There’s a pool and hot tub at one end of the courtyard which becomes the focal point of the non-activity during the day. Ten steps near the middle of the courtyard lead to a raised area with umbrella-shaded tables and a bar, where fruit, yogurt and granola (sometimes huevos revueltos or scrambled eggs) are served in the morning.

Alta and I are in No. 10, which is on the third floor in the far interior. From our balcony we can see into the large second-floor apartment across the way and the computer-TV-reading room on the ground floor. Our balcony, which hangs over the pool, gives a good view of the area near the bar, where Adam makes margaritas and serves cervesa about 6 p.m. A couple of times, after the sun sets, Alta and I feel like Grace Kelly and Jimmy Stewart in “Rear Window,” although we haven’t seen any murders or even suspicious activity in the apartment across the way.

The rooms are painted inside with murals and there’s a large ocean-themed mural behind the swimming pool. Our room has a mural over the bed picturing forest interior, with a birdhouse mounted to the trunk of a tree. A cat sits on top of the birdhouse and two birds sit on a branch, staring at each other. We’ve seen that in a New Yorker cartoon, I think.

My favorite thing about Casa Andrea’s is breakfast, which is served at 8 a.m. and onward. Our breakfasts usually take 2 or 3 hours, not because we are particularly slow but because this is the gathering time, the time to talk with everyone else staying here. Maybe we were lucky, but everyone staying here, at least to this point, has an interesting story to tell. Most of the people early in the week seemed to be from Canada, while the new arrivals seems to be more American.

There are three ladies from the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia, which is a 45-minute ferry ride from Vancouver. One is a former Canadian Olympic volleyball player who now raises Canadian horses (it’s a separate breed). Another has worked for BC Ferries, starting off as a deck hand and now is working in the customer service department. The other is a doctor.

Among the Americans are Terri and George, a sociology professor at a New Jersey community college and a retired manager with Bell Labs. The four of us took a 45-minute bus ride from PV to the Botanic Gardens (20 peso ride and 40 peso entrance fee) south of the city. Before we went to the gardens Wayne and Carol from Ottawa told us their visit, when they saw orchid bees pollinating the vanilla flowers. Wayne posted a video on YouTube that shows up first when you search for “orchid bees.” The iridescent green male bees collect the perfume of the floors to attract females, while the orchid flower places a pollinating substance on the bee’s back. (The photo above shows the cafe Picnic overlooking Calle Olas Altas near Casa Andrea.)

And there’s Pearl, a retired nurse from the Niagara Peninsula in eastern Canada. She’s here to visit her daughter, Heather, who quit her social working job in Canada to decompress in PV. Pearl, with a close cap of white hair, looks like someone’s favorite grandmother but sounds more like an adventurer. She has a sailboat on Lake Ontario, has sailed in the Caribbean, went with a small group to Vietnam last fall and will be spending several weeks with a friend outside Guadalajara after she leaves here. Everyone wants to sit at her table in the mornings.

Remembering Puerto Vallarta

Less than 2 hours after we’d landed in Puerto Vallarta we had already checked into the Casa Andrea B&B (pictured) in old Vallarta. Alta had had a margarita and I finished off a Pacifico. We didn’t even unpack our bags. We’d met three other guests at Andrea’s outdoor bar, a couple from New Jersey and an affable retired nurse from Canada.

Now we were standing in the line outside the Café de Olla, recommended by Andrea (and, obviously, a lot of others in PV) as one of the best "autenico" Mexican restaurants in town. After nearly an hour, we and several other couples became aware that parties of 4-to-6 were being seated ahead of us. Part of the problem was there were two lines, one for people with reservations who also seemed to be good friends with the always-smiling maitre d', and another line for those willing to stand for an hour.

We were standing with two other couples. After noticing that larger groups were getting the tables, we agreed to band together. As it turned out the next table was for four, so we teamed up with a couple from Racine, Wisconsin, Todd and Robin. It was nice to have the company. Todd’s a big guy who looks like he might have played football and now is a youth league soccer coach who works in highway and bridge construction. Robin works in commercial banking for a family-owned bank in Racine.

As we ate tacos and tostadas, we talked about Racine (historically a manufacturing center now hurting from the economy), why Todd thinks the U.S. shouldn’t build more highways (save the land and expense while seeking alternative energy and transportation), and why we like Mexico and Mexicans (Mexicans are friendly, hard-working and always waiting for something better. As a Mexican friend once remarked, “Esperar means both ‘to wait’ and ‘to hope’”).

We don’t remember how many times we’ve been to Puerto Vallarta, our favorite Mexican resort. Our first time wasn’t in 1973, when we drove 4,000 miles across the country in our first big Mexican trip. The only resort we hit then, with Brent and Phil and our schnoodle, Misty, in the back of the pick-up, was San Blas. At that time San Blas was very much a resort for Mexicans who could put up with the swarms of vicious, almost microscopic jujenes that came out at dusk and devoured any flesh in their path. The last time we were in San Blas, in the 1990s, the jujenes were gone, undone by government DDT spraying (who knows what else was gone).

We’ve been to PV many times, though, and each time it seems less foreign. Foreign implies strangeness, so no wonder places you keep going to become less foreign. Of course, gringos in PV really don’t have to speak Spanish. There are so many Americans and Canadians here you don’t quite feel you’re in a different culture. Drinking agua purificada, not brushing your teeth with tap water, and treating vegetables with Microdyn becomes habitual.

The year we lived in Durango, Mexico, didn’t feel that way, even though we got to know the city and some of its residents quite well. The only Americans or Canadians we knew there all were a small cadre of teachers. Very few people outside the collegio spoke English. That made a huge difference, even though our Spanish became good enough to get by.

But Puerto Vallarta seems familiar now. We’ve stayed all over, from old Vallarta up to Nuevo Vallarta in the north. It’s been 4 years since we’ve been here (we thought it was more recent until we looked it up). Some things have changed, especially the construction of hotels and condos. There are more Americans and Canadians than ever before, even in our “non-touristy” Zona Romantica area south of the Rio Cuale. Lots of Italian restaurants and American-run diners or cafes. Even the cement walkway along the Malecon next to downtown Vallarta’s beachfront has been extended. But the cars still shake and rattle on the city’s cobblestone streets (walking on the cobblestones feels like you’re in a stream). The plaza principal is unchanged, surrounded by government offices on one side and the Banamex bank on the other. Christmas decorations hang from a phony pine tree in the plaza and along some of the streets.

And some of the lines still are long.