Baila Morena!

Tuesday's Independence Day also came complete with traditional dancing! Troupes of school-aged girls lined up, black-brown hair pulled back into buns flowing with colorful ribbons, to match colorful skirts that swirled like something every girl's dreams are made of. They swirled and twirled their way around stage, clapping and dancing, graceful and playful. Families, cowboys, workers, tourists, all gathered around el centro to watch. Teenage boys, in saggy pants and trucker hats, whistled and shrieked from the sidelines. It was beautiful.

Dogs of Sayulita

Like we've said before, there are lots of dogs in Sayulita. Occasionally over the last couple weeks I've snapped off a few photos of the local population to share some of our canine friends with you.

After seeing all these mutts, one thing stands out.

No dog is better than this:




So much so, that I find myself looking at this page more and more. But really, we already have a dog. And sadly, Joya already has cats, so he is not a good fit there.

There does remain one other person in our travel party, and we think he needs to adopt this poor beach dog seeking out lasting companionship. Of course he won't, but if you think he should bring him home, feel free to lay on the guilt in the comments.

Flat Days

Sadly, not every day in Sayulita brings waves, and the past few have been exceptionally flat. Twice yesterday we went out, hoping against hope to catch a wave and both times we returned without a single ride. And it was worse than just sitting there waiting. A strong off shore wind made it difficult to enjoy our time out, constantly having to paddle through rough chop and fighting to keep your balance.

The day was quiet in other ways too. We noticed that most shops in town were closed, and although things have always been sleepy due to it being off-season, it was unusually so. We later found out why. A local husband and father was electrocuted the night before, dying before help could come. The entire town turned out for his funeral and procession, men carrying his casket around the town, once, twice, countless laps over the course of the afternoon. In tow were his friends and grieving family, the whole town really. Two traditional Mexican brass bands, with more passion than precision, played surprisingly upbeat polka beat songs. Although this is the second funeral we've seen pass by, this one had far more passion, it was clear this was a man who everybody not only knew, but liked in this tiny town.

As we sat watching them file towards Playa de Muertos we reflected on how funerals are such private affairs in the states. I'm sure people die in our neighborhoods every week as well, but we rarely find out, and even more rarely witness their funeral. Perhaps it's the small town that makes it different here, but I suspect it says more about the Mexican culture: of close knit communities and even closer knit families. That contrary to the stoic ideal of America, here passion, good and bad is more accepted, perhaps even encouraged. There is something special about not just witnessing but participating in the passing of a good neighbor or friend, something we might just have lost a bit in our busy high tech lives, a real connection.

Los Postres de Sayulita

It only took a week deprived of chocolate and dessert before I started earnestly seeking them out.  I started with packaged Oreos from the nearby Tienda.  Coming away completely unsatisfied, I started to hit the harder stuff with homemade chocolate cake with 3 types of milk from the bake sale type stand in the plaza.  Since soggy chocolate cake isn't quite my style, I was soon visiting the local ice cream stores.  There I found satisfaction in a double scoop sugar cone and "nieves" or ice cream bars lightly covered in chocolate with coconut.  And for a reason I cannot understand, the coconut here is addictive.  I will order something just to eat the Mexican coconut coating the treat.

Which leads to the famous, original Chocobanana.  Which, by the way, was a total let down.  The chocolate and coconut barely made this worth finishing... barely.  And then we discovered Robert's bakery.  Open only from 5 pm to 10 pm, with the menu changing every night, Robert is a fabulously flamboyant English speaker in this earthy Mexican town.  But it was here I was finally able to satisfy my discerning sweet tooth with giant  brownies, marble cake with chocolate frosting, and an almond praline cookie with the texture of a boiled cookie.  Needless to say, since the discovery of Robert's, I have been making a nightly walk by for that night's dessert and enough for tomorrow morning's breakfast.

Joining the Family

The other day we were sitting out on the porch looking out across the roof when I noticed something large crawling to my right. Much to my dismay, our new friend Max, determined to come inside and visit us, had found roof access and was making his way on to the porch! Concerned for his well being we've decided perhaps its best to just leave the door open for him.

However, we can't just let random street dogs run rampant through our borrowed casa. Nic propositioned that we just go the whole nine and give Jose a bath -- so we did.

And by we, I mean Nic. It became increasingly clear as Nic lathered up the old boy that he is a kept dog. He took it very well as if he knew that by putting up with it he would be rewarded in short order. And he was right. Not only did the fresh fur earn him free passage into the house, he was rewarded with a fine spread of doggy appropriate food. He had crunchy kibble adorned with day old wood-fired pizza (okay, I admit it, I had pizza while watching the Seahawks game on Sunday at Don Pedro's). To finish it off, a crunchy taquito de pollo.. mmm.

The Procession

From our second story perch, we rested or read or drifted in and out of afternoon siestas while daily Sayulita life came and went, on the streets below us. It's neither quiet nor loud -- just life.

We don't even look up when a shrill burst of a trumpet blares from down below. Likely a passing car, with the volume cranked up. Then the single trumpet is, one by one, joined by a chorus of other horns. Crisp, clean and strong. I look at Nic, excited thinking about what it might be, it sounds like live music!

He shakes his head.

I sit. The horns overpower every other possible sound. No birds chirp, no babies cry, no motors hum, no other sound exists but their slow tune. I hop out of my seat to the balcony just to see.

"You guys." is all I can whisper over my shoulder.

The cobblestone street below us is a sea of silent people. All, slowly walking, down towards the sea -- to the playa de los muertos. All, intent on the road ahead and the cream colored Escalade that leads the procession. Behind this simple procession of people, behind the rickety truck carrying two walls of red and white roses, come the band. Shiny gold cowboy shirts, tan slacks, slicked hair and horns, belting with all their might the song that hushes the crowd (and tourists alike).

We sit in silence, observing theirs. It's breathtaking. An honest and personal moment, suddenly shared to all. A glimpse into someone else's life. A glimpse into someone else's death. No poetry to quote, I only had a cliche feeling of being "inextricably bound" to my neighbor in that moment. We talk of dia del los muertos, the comparatively ornate tradition of caring for the dead, the bittersweet belief that on that day the departed loved ones walk among us once more, and just the seemingly relative comfort with death that's distilled in hispanic cultures. It seems like it's not something to fear, but merely the passing of life, into...the next stage of that life, death.

(Very guiltily I sneak a couple photos after they've turned their heads so we'll remember this moment.) Sometimes, in the midst of travels and the desparate pursuit of relaxation, it's easy to forget that around you continuously swirls the lives of others in their own unique way...and long after you're gone, the dance continues.

As promised..

Here's the video of the dancing horses, live music and just general partying going on last night.

¡Viva Mexico!