Timpano Roto

So as on every morning, we went out today to catch some early waves. It was a nice change in that most of the locals weren't out and it was mostly mellower gringos out on the water. The past few days have brought some big swells (~9ft) to Sayulita and that seemed to bring out many many locals who were all incredibly aggressive in catching the waves. This made it a bit intimidating and frustrating for us beginners, any wave worth catching was always claimed.

But this morning was much better, fewer people, less locals and more surfers at approximately our skill level. I started getting used to the long board I decided to rent after giving up on the shorter and thinner board I bought at a bargain earlier in the week. Things were starting to come together nicely until as I bailed off a wave I hit my ear perfectly against the water. Much pain ensued along with the new found ability that I could exhale through my right eardrum. Hrmm, this didn't bode well.

Sayulita has been developing over the past few years, lots of real estate offices are a sure sign that a town is not only long discovered but being developed quickly. One nice side effect of that is that there is now a full time doctor available, who also happens to speak great English. After breakfast and after deciding that trucks driving by really shouldn't set off an echo chamber in my head I headed on over for a second opinion.

As I had feared, it looks like the water pressure from my oh so imperfect dismount caused me to blow out my right ear drum. It sounds worse that it is and I guess is fairly common. The only real blow is that I have to stay out of the water for three days to prevent infections as it heals and seals itself back up. Oh and I have to live through the humiliation of having Jen and Eric put eardrops in my ears thrice daily. (how you are supposed to count ten drops in each ear yourself I have no idea)

So a reminder of something I already knew, be extra aware of your dismounts as you jump off the board. I suppose this gives me some time to catch up on the work I have been too tired to do up to now.

La Comida de Mexico

I feel that whenever traveling, the most important part that will determine how you view the country and your trip is the food. If you find it delicious, filling, exotic and even a bargain, then you are bound to enjoy yourself immensely.

In this aspect, Mexico delivers on all counts. Although Sayulita suffers from the universal curse of beach side restaurants with so-so food, it also sports more authentic (and far more delicious) street food and other restaurants right on the plaza.

Our now favorite breakfast spot is located just off the plaza and sports some of the tastiest iced mochas we've ever had. Yes, it is true that we don't usually have our mochas after three hours of paddling and that might bias our opinion, but they really are something else.

Of course, the drinks are only part of the equation, and this same restaurant also sports delicious breakfast items. Yesterday Eric discovered their awesome Huevos Rancheros, and today Jen sampled their Mexican eggs which were both pretty darn tasty.

As good as the food is, and as nice as the waitress is to us, I must comment on one particularly funny little trick they keep playing on us. Somewhere near the end of our meal, she will come by with a little bite of something or another. Yesterday, a side of pan fried potatoes, today a pancake with fruit on the side. She usually says something about it being extra from the kitchen or whatnot, and for whatever reason I always seem to be the target.
Today we thought this was pretty funny, second time around, she must like us or something. But of course we are hopelessly gullible gringos, and these little extras really aren't free, but options one must refuse. That extra pancake (which we all agreed was insanely yummy BTW), 15 pesos on the bill. How.. how.. dare they!? And we thought they were our friends!

But we ARE going back tomorrow regardless, that pancake (and the coffee) is too good to pass up. Now just wait until we tell you about the street food at night..

Grocery Madness

We needed some staples for the house so we headed on down to one of the local grocery stores.  We sauntered about taking in what was available.  The produce room was of particular interest to me.  Nicely refrigerated and has the feel that someone with a machete in hand just dropped everything off.  It gave me the opportunity to learn that limes here are actually closer to a walnut in size than they are to a lemon -- fascinating.  I don't know if it is a climate thing or if it's just that we genetically modify ours, or what.

We found many variations of picante sauce but surprisingly pretty much no options in the salsa department.  Unless of course you want to count Salsa Inglés.  But that would probably be pretty disappointing with chips.  Actually, there was this jarred stuff, but understandably Nic balked and we passed on it with hopes of finding something fresher another time.  Instead we picked up some chips, avocados, onions, and tomatoes.  For future reference, the local stores keep the freshest or ripest items up by the register.  Our last unripe avocado in the trash can can attest to that.  

Hunting in the breakfast aisle Nic made and odd discovery:

But what are they?  What are they for?  All we know is we need a huge bag of them!  Checking out of the grocery store was an interesting feat.  We stood in line only later to discover that the real line appeared to be to our right.  I shifted over to that line for safe measure.  Only to discover that in this store there were no real lines.  Only collections of people that want to buy things.  A bunch of locals had been treating the checkout process much like they treat the gringos on the waves.  It's not first come first serve here -- it's first to cut the gringos in line first served.  Apparently the "system" is to slap your stuff on the counter as quickly as possible as the cashier haphazardly throws things through the scanner.  I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure some things may have been rung up twice while others not at all.  Anyways, we got out of there with our loot.

We later discovered another grocery store that had a little more sense of order to it, with like, real actual lines and stuff.

Arbo de Guano de Iguana

Not 25 feet from the front steps of our apartment is a big tree right next to the road. On our first day here as we were walking around, a downpour started and as we were walking under the tree it began dropping huge chunks of green guano upon us. At the time we weren't sure what their source was, the theory was maybe monkeys, though we hadn't heard any. (monkey, 'mono' in spanish, imagine a monkey wearing a monocle says our linkwords Spanish book)

Today as we were walking back from breakfast we spotted the real source, the tree is just covered in Iguanas of varying sizes and colors. From big giant old grey ones to younger green guys, the tree seems to be the local hangout for our prehistoric friends.

Somehow knowing the source makes the guano less threatening, but you better be sure we'll be watching our heads and giving the tree a wide bearth as we walk by, especially during the common afternoon squalls.

The Setting

This being my first attempt at surfing my arms feel less like flesh and more like overcooked pasta.  

Since I can't always be surfing*, thankfully much fun can be had just taking in the sites.  Sayulita is nested in a nice protected cove which makes it easy to take in the surfing and the coastline at the same time.  I have never been to any part of Mexico, so I'm equally excited to see the giant alien looking fronds littering the runoffs leading to the ocean as I am the crashing surf and the brown surfers who mock it.  I need to spend more time hanging down on the beach.   One problem has remained since I arrived: Necesito la guitarra!  I've heard rumors of an old man that peddles some cheap guitars on the beach but I have yet to run in to him.  I guess I need to spend more time on the sand -- not just in the water or in a bed.

So long as you find a nice stretch of beach that hasn't already been "decorated" by the very well established canine population (think dog doo cooking in the hot sun), it's possible to sit back, relax, and see some pretty fantastic surfage by the locals.  I enjoy their company much more from the beach (with Marc's 300mm lens) than when out on the water competing for waves (for which I am always the last in line).  These guys can surf any wave and make everything look so easy in the process.

*For me its closer to a flushing of the sinuses.

The Surf Report from Seattle WA

While I missed the initial group departure, I wasn't far behind. Finally on the plane, I reflected back on my bittersweet last days in corporate America, marked by the launch of my final marketing campaign for an unamed social network, the use of words like "knowledge transfer" and "departure communication plan", and flip-flops, lots of flip-flops. Landing in PV, a sola, was like a dream come true, the busy mercados, gaggles of merchants and careening buses-of-imminent-death packed with a friendly people who humor my Spanish recollections like I humor the quasi-English utterances from my 1 year old nephew.

"Nic wanted me to tell you they're heading back," Jen told me within minutes of arriving in Sayulita. Hot and tired, I dumped my travel pack onto the floor. "He said Washington surf was better, and he could get more work done from Seattle. So they just took the last bus back to town."

My heart sank, "But, he hates the Washington surf. He flew all the way out here just to turn back around the day I get here?"

I questioned this so-called-vacation, looking at the stormy sea below as she tells me "Said he had to go back. He had no doubts you'd still find a way to have a fabulous time. I was going to go back with them, but thought someone should tell you where we'd gone. Anyway, I'm sorry, I gotta run too..." She vanishes.

I awake with a start. Palapa thatched walls turn to beige drywall. Pools of turquoise water evaporate into my brown-green lawn. Relief. It was just a nightmare. It's ok. I'm still in Seattle. It's ok? I'm still in Seattle?!

Ugh!!! I hit snooze and fall back to bed.

Just two days to freedom, four days to Mexico. Oh wait, this is a blog was about actually surfing Mexico, not dreaming...

Say hi to Jose!

Jose our new friend

Upon first arriving at our house, we noticed a lazy, and I mean LAZY, dog basking in the heat and humidity on the ground floor apartment. We said hi, he batted an eye open to check us out, but didn't budget otherwise as we carried our bags upstairs. We ended up passing him a few more times that evening as we explored around and grabbed dinner, each time greeted by with one eye opened, as if to say, "I see you" but never more.


That all changed this morning as we walked down to the beach. The dog, now christened 'Jose' by Jen, decided that maybe if we were going to be here a while he should get to know us. And so he did. Through the town we walked, scoping out the town for tortillerias and grocery stores, and all the while Jose followed us.

One oddity in Mexico is that apparently dogs have the right of way on roads. More than once we'd be yelling at Jose, sometimes in English, sometimes in broken Spanish to get out of the way as a car approached. And more often than not, Jose would stand there obliviously. Once, a pickup truck seemed to 'tap' him a bit, just a gentle nudge to please move over as it tried to work its way through the so called road.


Jose followed us throughout, and ultimately right back to the house. Later in the day we went out to get some cash at an ATM (btw, the universal use of $ as pesos always makes confirming your $3,000 withdrawal a nerve racking experience). Jose, as is now usual, followed along and right into the grocery store where the ATM was. Perhaps this was no coincidence though, as just in front of the ATM, in giant opened 100lb bags, dried dog food was on display. Jose stood by it, not whining, but perhaps in that psychic dog way merely suggesting another purchase while we were there.

We resisted this time, but I can't imagine we'll manage to leave without at least a goodbye feast for the old guy.