A Smart Cookie and a Sweet Farewell

The Capt has been threatening to make cookies for a couple of weeks. His specialty, oatmeal raisin with walnuts and coconut. A couple of days ago he made good on his threat, coming up with a new innovation in the process. He doesn't like mixing by hand, so with no mixer aboard, he pulled out an allen wrench attachment, hooked it onto his drill, washed the whole thing well (honest!) and used that for a mixer.

So we were able to share some of the batch with fellow bloggers Paul and Nancy (Countdown to Mexico).

Paul and Nancy, with the Capt, on the Malecon
•••

Saturday morning we went with P&N for breakfast on the Malecon, a farewell breaking of the bread. They gave us a ride to the ice house so we could stock up on ice for our four-day passage to San Carlos, and also a lift to the laundry, a good thing since we were down to our last set of sheets, and one big wave over the bow would soak the berth, leaving us with a wet bed! It happened last year, twice! Nancy gave me some bell peppers and a cutting from her thriving basil plant (now all I have to do is keep it alive til we get home!)

Paul and Nancy, thank you so much for your hospitality! These last few days were among the high points of our trip this year.

We're going to miss Mazatlan!
•••

Now we're at Marina Mazatlan for a night, so we can fuel up, fill the water tank, wash down the deck and get ready for the challenge of making our way "uphill" to San Carlos. Southerly winds are predicted starting Tuesday, so they should give us a push north. Four days is a long time to be at sea, though nothing compared to the 28 days others are traveling to the Marquesas and the South Pacific.

So I'll be out of touch for a bit. Hasta luego!

Walking Tour of Old Town Mazatlan

After a week in the Mazatlan harbor, we're tentatively scheduling our trip north for tomorrow, with the help of southerlies that may start tomorrow...or not.

The trip north will take four days, during which we won't set foot on land. So I've spent the last week taking marathon walks around Old Town Maz, my favorite part of town. Plazuela Machado to the historic Mercado, with occasional stops at the new home of a fellow blogger, Nancy (Countdown to Mexico). After getting lost a couple of times, I got the lay of the land and walked for miles, enjoying the architecture, which dates back to the late 19th century in many cases and reminds me of street scenes in Europe (not that I've been to Europe yet, that's a cruise yet to come).

Paul and Nancy's house is magnificent, with all the best features of an an urban home...plenty of air circulation thanks to an open floorplan arranged around a spacious landscaped patio, balconies on each side of the house, soaring ceilings, vivid walls in lapiz, gold, mango and cinnamon red, lots of blooming exotic plans (including an enormous elephant ear that someday might shade half the patio!), bathrooms decorated with colorful Talavera tiles and fixtures, a lovely mural of a village street scene... Close to everything, but on a relatively quiet street, traffic noises muted by the splash of a fountain in the patio. It was my first glimpse of the interior of one of the intriguing houses I passed on my walks, and I got lots of ideas for the dream house I'm designing in my head.

Visit their blog for photos, and the saga of the seven months of remodeling it took to reach its present state of splendor. And thanks, Paul and Nancy, for your hospitality, for helping us get to the ice house, a wonderful evening in Plaza Machado, ice-cold Cokes after those long treks, and your friendship.

I've been wanting to upload the photos I've taken for days, but our internet connection here at the anchorage is poor-to-nil. A couple of days ago I found out why: the wifi antenna is sitting on a desk in the Club Nautico office, surrounded by thick concrete walls. As though they unpacked it from the box, hooked it up and left it.

Capt Seeking Crew

Club Nautico is comprised of the two white buildings, and the dinghy landing is at the small dock next to the launch ramp. Cruisers can hook up their computers and get wifi under the palapa to the right of the club building.
•••

Entering Mazatlan Harbor, we were surprised to find it almost as crowded as it was in February, but we were able to tuck in next to a Morgan 41 ketch, “Sweet Dreams,” out of San Diego. The skipper dinghied over within the hour and we talked Morgans for a bit, then we invited him over for breakfast and guaranteed good coffee, something few yachties can resist.

There’s a dock here for landing, a good thing since the wifi is so wimpy here you have to be ashore to pick it up, when it’s not offline. The Club Nautico has an office here, where you pay a small dock fee and get a numeric internet password, unless another cruiser has already passed it on to you. There are showers, though they’re reputedly marginal. I haven’t had the heart to check them out.

At 8am, we turned on the VHF Morning Net, which we could hear but were unable to transmit to, since the net host is in Marina Maz, at the other end of town. Afterward "Sweet Dreams'"
skipper dinghied over and I made Belgian waffles with sauteed apples and cream...yum! He’s singlehanding, having made plans with a longtime girlfriend back in CA to cruise together but she opted out not long before departure time last December, not wanting to abandon her job. Instead, she wanted him to get rid of the boat, he lamented. We sympathized, having met quite a few cruisers whose relationships fell apart over divergent plans involving boats and cruising plans. Que lastima! He’s a hunkier version of Henry Fonda, 54, a surfer and formerly self-employed in the SoCal construction industry, who’s planning to cruise for the next eight years and then retire.

He said he’s hoping to find crew, but so far all he’d met was a woman who whose sticky situation would have required him to help her jump ship with no time to get acquainted, so he begged off. A wise decision, we assured him. He’s announcing on the Morning net that he’s taking on crew, when he can transmit. But he’s heading south, hoping to summer in Banderas Bay while everybody else is headed North to the Sea of Cortez for the summer.

I just lit up a couple of sticks of Nag Champa incense to combat the odor from the sewage plant, at the request of the Capt, who’s busy in the cockpit, tinkering with the washdown pump. If not for the sewage smell, this anchorage would be just about ideal, with easy landings, minimal surge, proximity to Old Town (my favorite part of Maz), water at the dock, a Pemex nearby, functioning showers and amiable neighbors.

Hopefully we’ll get olfactory fatique in a day or so and won’t notice the smell anymore. Meanwhile, there’s always Nag Champa.

Tianguis, A Petting Zoo, and Robin Williams

Before heading north to Mazatlan yesterday we stopped at Pepe’s Landing to replenish our drinking water. Pepe is a young man, probably early 20s, who with his father has created a little farm along the estuary..we’re talking maybe an acre, stretching from the road to the water’s edge where he has a small, very clean beach which he has turned into a dinghy landing. He keeps the landing roped off, perhaps to discourge pangueros, who’ll land on any handy horizontal surface. A bright red flag on a pole extends up from a reef squarely in front of the beach, both as a warning of the reef and signal to dinghies where to land. A small sign hangs on the fence as well, but it can’t be read from passing boats.

Pepe was recommended to us by Jan Goldy, who with her husband Capt Norm Goldy has lived in San Blas some 30 years. A couple of years ago, they were directing us to land on a navy dock a quarter-mile further in, but the navy has apparently ceded the dock to the marines. A couple of navy guards used to watch our dinghies and we’d bring them treats form the panaderia, but the marines aren’t interested in being dink guards, Jan explained.

The well-shaded little plot of land where Pepe lives is teeming with animals: dogs (including a chihuahua that just gave birth to a litter), chickens (one of which was busy with a brood of baby chicks), goats, a horse, turkeys... "It's like a petting zoo," remarked the Capt. Even his wife is about to give birth. Their son will be named Pedro Luis, Pepe tells me proudly. I sat with his father for a while, chatting in English and Spanish and watching the frigate birds swarm the fishing boats. To discourage no-see-ums he brought a burning coconut husk and set it down near me. My eyes teared up and I was thinking I’d rather take my chances with the bugs.

The Capt took charge of buying two 5gallon jugs of water and some more garden hose while I was on a veggie-buying mission. But I found much more than I was looking for: a couple of blocks from the estuary I found the Saturday tianguis! San Blas puts on an excellent tianguis, stretching for blocks and featuring everything from clothes, shoes and household goods to tools, eyeglasses, even a merceria booth. The advantage to finding a merceria in a tianguis is that all the sewing and needlework notions are laid out on tables and you can see everything for sale. Mercerias in town tend to be in dark, narrow stores stuffed to the rafters with merchandise that may not have seen the light of day in decades because none of the customers know it’s there. We found several colors of webbing, and were able to stock up on the white the Capt is using on the new Sunbrella awning.

Leaving the estuary, we were assaulted by eight-foot waves breaking over our bow, but once past the shallows we settled into a rollicking but fairly steady motion. The afternoon southwesterlies gave us a chance to sail for a few hours, but by evening we were back to motoring. I was pleased with myself for having cooked up a big batch of chicken curry the day before, so we had dinner all but ready to eat, just a bit of heating in the microwave. I confess, I used ramen noodles instead of rice. It was my first time cooking with the canned chicken sold at Costco, and other than being a bit salty for my taste, it worked out fine. Next I’m going to try a batch of enchiladas.

I had the 6 to 9pm and midnight to 3am watches, my main concern being to stay on a course of around 321 degrees, regularly scrutinize the radar screen for other vessels and do a visual check of our surroundings every half hour or so, with the help of the full moon that glowed like a spotlight in spite of a light cloud cover.

With elections coming up in the US it seemed a good time to watch “Man of the Year,” Robin Williams’ tale of a popular political comedian who accidentally gets elected President. I found it as engrossing as the first time I saw it (not something I can say about most movies), and had to remind myself to do my watch duties. Note to self: buy a kitchen timer.

This morning we were swallowed up in a fog so thick we could only see about a mile in any direction, so we had to keep a vigilant watch for pangas. Anything larger woud show up on our radar, hopefully. We’re due to land at Mazatlan anchorage around 3pm if all goes well. I’m looking forward to an evening in the historic old town, listening to live jazz outdoors on the street at Plaza Machado.

Mamey, Mango, Marines and Maz

We’re back in San Blas, one of my favorite stops. In fact, it would be right up there with the top three if not for the year-round no-see-ums. These tiny devils with the stinging bite specializing in feasting on gringos, apparently, as the locals never seem to notice them.

Our first evening we anchored in Mentanchen Bay, outside of town, where the insects don’t seem to be such a problem. Then yesterday morning we entered the San Blas estuary and dropped anchor just opposite the Pemex dock. Now our special no-see-um screens go on at 5pm and stay on all night. And yes, they do block much of the breeze, but what good is a fresh breeze when your skin is stinging from a thousand tiny bug bites? That’s why we have fans.

During the day, the bugs took a siesta and we unloaded the dinghy for a trip ashore for ice, tortillas, paletas and exercise. We found Velcro for the Capt’s sewing project, and then at the ferreteria we discovered some heavy-duty garden hose that looks to be kink-free.

Mamey, the inscrutable fruit
•••

Then we wandered into the mercado where there are two veggie vendors. I was looking for large potatoes, but then I spotted a pile of mameys. (Pronounced mah-may.) Recently another blogger praised the mamey as her new favorite tropical fruit, and I became curious enough to have bought one a few days ago before we left Banderas Bay. It was still on the boat, waiting for me to cut into it. I asked the vender how to eat it, and it turned out she had excellent English and was more than willing to satisfy my curiosity. She directed her father to find me a good one and cut it open. Oops! The first one he chose was rotten and he had to go back for another one. And therein lies the problem with mameys.

Mamey seems to be the Dorian Grey of tropical fruits, because there’s no way of knowing by looking at it whether it’s unripe, ready to eat or well past its edibility until you cut into it. The exterior is a uniform leathery brown shell, almost as hard as a coconut, and it’s the shape of a small football. You cut into it from end to end, then split it in half. Inside, if it’s ripe, it resembles a baked yam, both in color and consistency--that’s why it’s eaten with a spoon. The seed is a lovely slender glossy brown, as though it were made of varnished mahogany. But how to tell if it’s good from the outside? Quien sabe?

This becomes a crucial question when you consider that mameys at this produce stand were selling for about eight pesos, or eighty US cents, apiece. Of course this may have included a gringo surcharge.

When the vendor’s father found a good one he presented it to me, provided a plastic spoon and I dug in. It tastes a little like an intense yam, too, only a little more fruity. I gave the Capt a taste, but he seemed underwhelmed.

Then this morning I pulled out the mamey I’d bought back in PV and cut into it, hoping to share with you, dear readers, a photo of its insides. Yuck! it was moldy, fibrous, not at all like the lovely fruit I’d gorged on in the mercado yesterday.

Mangoes, two varieties. The smaller ones are from my friend Linda's tree.
•••

That’s one thing I love about mangoes. They soften and reveal all their bruises on the skin and you never have to guess. I recommend if you want to try a mamey you ask to have it cut open on the spot. Then, of course, you have to get it home...

For those who might be bringing their boats to San Blas, and might want to top off their water tanks, there’s a striped cement dock with a hose next to the dinghy landing. Use your own hose, theirs is apparently not functioning. Water pressure is low, but you’re welcome to tank up and wash down. Don’t be intimidated by the armed Mexican marines who’ll show up; they’ll catch your docklines for you. I plan to take them some cookies...

Also be warned that prices all over town have been increased by ten pesos since Semana Santa. The dinghy landing, for instance, is now 20 pesos. A shower at the hotel I frequented in Feb. is now $25 pesos. The gringo surcharge, again. But I'm not complaining, I'm still fond of San Blas. Even with a dozen new no-see-um bites to deal with.

Next: a 24-hour passage to Mazatlan

Rising Hopes and Falling Coconuts

Linda's coconut palms, possibly the tallest in La Cruz. Now picture a nimble boy climbing one of them to harvest the coconuts!

One afternoon in Linda's garden I found out how to avoid being beaned by a falling coconut. She has a row of five beautiful mature coconut palms, said to be the tallest in La Cruz. I can see them from the marina. Lovely shade, spectacular to look at, but a looming threat that prevented her from confidently working in and entertaining guests in her garden. "I had to avoid having conversations outdoors," she said. It must have been something like living in the middle of a minefield.

She tried hiring some muchachos to come and "clean up" her palms, and they clambered up in the time-honored tropical manner: with no ropes or gear, only a machete. But they didn't remove the baby coconuts, only the mature ones. This year she hired a professional, who arrived with more gear and did a thorough job. I had to wonder how often a professional coconut palm cleaner comes along.

Last night I recorded the three Spanish songs I've been teaching Linda, on her computer and in her alto key so she can practice by singing along with my voice after I'm gone. She gave me a basket of mangoes from her huge and prolific mango tree and we said goodbye until next time, when hopefully she'll have learned the songs well enough that we can do them together in harmony for an open mike at Anna Bananas.

It's our last day in La Cruz. Just as I'd begun to feel as though I lived here, what with daily excursions into town (so easy from this marina) to visit Linda, wander the streets looking for Velcro and fresh-roasted peanuts, fresh-roasted coffee, pineapple paletas, tacos de carne asada, etc. La Cruz is at the top of my list of favorite stops for this trip.

We did a second open mike, at Philo's this time with a semi-full house, and did pretty well, i.e. Bliss didn't forget any lyrics or fall off her stool or freeze. A humiliation-free session, for the most part. The Capt had some issues with their sound system, so that a few times it sounded like we weren't both doing the same song. But audience response was very enthusiastic, and afterwards Russ from Casa Lori came over and said he'd have liked to join us with his harmonica, but the Capt was playing such complex chords he was afraid he'd get lost. We agreed next time we come to La Cruz we'd jam together, and he'll try to set up some time at Philo's on a quiet afternoon.

We bought a Hawking ethernet antenna from another boat in the marina and improved our internet connection 100%.

Another accomplishment was discovering the best coffee beans I've yet found in Mexico, roasted by Wendy, a European who came here from Guadalajara and has his own roasting facilities at Le Reve. He uses Fair Trade organic beans from Chiapas, does a mild and a dark French Roast blend (our fave), and sells it very reasonably for less than $12 per kilo. Knowing how long it would be before I'd get here again, I bought four kilos (about eight pounds), which probably will last us the rest of the year.

Driving from Puerto Vallarta to Guaymas/San Carlos would take us an estimated 14 hours. Our boat will make it in about a week. Sailing is not for the impatient.
•••

This morning we're plotting our course north, consulting with Don the Weather Oracle on the radio, making a list of things to do before casting off. Tonight we'll anchor at Punta de Mita, at the northern end of Banderas Bay. Tomorrow we'll leave Mita at O-dark-30 and if we can achieve a steady 5 knots, we'll do an overnight passage all the way to Mazatlan. If wind and current keep our speed below 5 knots we'll anchor at Bahia Metanchen in San Blas or Isla Isabella and break up the trip into a couple of days. If all goes well, we'll be home in a week.

My last wish for this trip: an evening in the Plaza in Old Town Mazatlan, listening to a jazz band playing out in the street. It'll probably be our last chance for live jazz for quite a while.

The Fine Art of Cannibalizing

There they go! Our neighbors on Pangea opted for an evening departure to mark the beginning of their expedition to the South Pacific. Imagine: at least 21 days before they even drop anchor and set foot on land again!

Last weekend Jalisco State began Daylight Savings Time, which means 8am now comes before sunrise, and we're still wide awake at 11pm. We're actually in Nayarit State, just at the border with Jalisco, but everybody here in La Cruz goes by Jalisco time except the schools. How that affects working parents, I can only guess.

So the sun was just peeping out when I started up the cappuccino machine, got three-quarters of the usual yield and there was a loud "pop!" that even woke up the Capt. Considering the machine works under pressure, I guess I should be grateful it wasn't more like a "boom!"

Que lastima! Adios to our morning espresso. The pressure vessel ruptured and after ten years' loyal service, it's time to retire the machine. But we started looking it over and decided there were usable parts we could salvage, so it won't have died in vain. The little basket that holds the coffee, of course, but how about the steamer doodad? With some effort we got that off, and then the Capt was examining the perfectly usable heating element and managed to remove it, too, plus a part that he said would come in handy on the dinghy wheels.

And I wonder why we have so much stuff on the boat...

But never mind. We have another machine at home in San Carlos and yet another one in the disabled RV we use for a stateside pied á terre, and who knows when one of them might need a transplant?

Today the young couple on "Pangea" along with the in-laws, are leaving for a year's cruise in the South Pacific. On the Morning Net we heard that "Our Country Home" is also heading for the Marquesas today. Around here we call people who are crossing the Pacific "puddle jumpers." It's about a 21 to 28-day trip, with no land in sight. Am I envious? Naaah. Someone else is going to do the Baja Bash, also a major challenge, back up the West Coast to California. And where are we going? Up to the marina office to notify them we'll be here another four or five days. It's a strange life, living on a boat but with docklines firmly attached to land.

So I guess I'll walk into town and pick up some mangoes at tianguis. Later we'll practice a few songs for the open mike at Philo's. Songs we're working on: "Lost Mind" (more Mose Allison), "Gee Baby," "Popscicle Toes," and Jobim's "Quiet Nights."

Tomorrow it's off to the House of Rubber to find the stuff for our flopper-stopper and Home Depot to get a hose that doesn't kink.

So you see, I'm not just lying around in a hammock eating chocolate and reading chicklit. We're busy!

Sink, Sank, Sunk

"This is the 'George C. Olson', a sailing/steam ship that carried lumber from Coos Bay to California. It wrecked in early 1900's and the storm we had last winter washed away enough sand to uncover it. It was 220 feet long, had sails and steam power...," writes my friend Sue in Oregon, who took this photo. Notice she got around the "sunk" vs "sank" conundrum by using "wrecked!"

Maybe it's because of my close relationship with a boat that this bothers me so much, but I have a crying need to know how to conjugate the English word "sink."

I have just read yet another article in which someone wrote "the ship sunk during the storm." The sentence made my hair stand on end, not because of the ill-fated ship, but because I've always believed it should be "the ship sank during the storm." Or if you've just got to use "sunk" somewhere, wouldn't it be something like "the ship had sunk in 80 fathoms?" or even "the ship was sunk by the owners for the insurance."

I've just spent the last hour searching grammar websites and nobody addresses this maddening question. It turns up frequently in printed accounts, but does that make it right? This is a relevant question, according to my horoscope today:

Don't worry if your ideas seem crazy -- on fact, if they're nutty, you can assume they'll work out pretty well! Things are upside-down in some ways, so you need to adjust your assumptions.

Another verb that always seems to me to be used wrong is swim. Surely it can't be right to say "he swum the English Channel," can it? I can buy "he had swum the English Channel but declined to swim the Atlantic."

A Day at a Time

The new dodger windows are made of heavy clear plastic inset in shadecloth and trimmed in green Sunbrella. This new version has wooden slats supporting each panel for extra strength. The whole thing can be dismantled in minutes if we're desperate for a breeze. See the new pump with its nifty yellow hose? We use it to wash down the deck or empty the ice melt out of the cooler. Or empty the bilge if the bilge pump fails...

The Capt has finished up the new windshield for the dodger, inserting windows which is no easy task. First we had to find the windshield material, which is UV-protected heavy clear plastic and not easy to locate in Mexico. Finally scored at Canvas Connection, buying a couple of scraps from a much bigger project Karen had done. She never throws anything away, gracias a dios. When she buys it from the States it comes in big rolls and first thing she does is put Saran Wrap over both surfaces so it won't scratch or get fingerprints on it in the sewing process.

The Capt decided to make four separate windows, a lot more work but he thinks the windshield is stronger that way, and the plastic was a bit odd-size so smaller windows were easier to achieve. This was a change from the previous dodger windshield which sadly blew off the boat when we were ashore in Tenacatita a month ago. He says he learned something from the first set and was able to make improvements in the new ones.

Last night we got the steaming light and one spreader light hooked up so we can travel in the dark. This morning he made a new plug for the depthfinder out of epoxy and a little tube of PVC. He still needs to replace the panels on the flopper-stopper (when I locate the rubber store), and fix the galley faucet and sink.

Next sewing project: a Sunbrella awning for the cockpit that we can use underway (when I locate a merceria that sells Velcro).

Are we still leaving day after tomorrow? Tune in and see...

The Reluctant Chanteuse

"Now don't eat too much," the Capt warned as we were heading to Jorge's Tacos on the Street yesterday afternoon. "You might be singing tonight."

What? I thought we'd decided to pass on the open mike session at Anna Banana's, having found we didn't have a lot of crowd-pleasers worked up and ready to deliver to a hard-drinkin' crowd. We'd only practiced a couple of times recently, I had no time to warm up and conditions were perfect for a nightmare situation: the throat closes, the lyrics fade away in the fog of my brain and I freeze.

But this changing of the mind happens often with a Gemini, unpredictability being one of their trademarks. And the Capt had been mentionoing open mikes in La Cruz for months, so I should have known...

But first a word about Jorge's: if you're going to La Cruz, be sure to go to Calle Huachinango Sat., Sun. or Wed. night, anytime after five and you'll find an eatery with a reputation for the best tacos in town. You won't see Jorge's name in front, but there'll be tables and chairs set out on the street...or go inside if you prefer. Indeed, they served the yummiest carne asada tacos we've had yet. Plenty of tender carne, a generous dollop of guacamole and a mild but tasty salsa on top. Jorge's isn't the cheapest place in town, with tacos running about 12 pesos each (they're 9 pesos at Dos Amigos), but we might go there again Wednesday night as a going-away treat before leaving Thursday.

We both ate too much and when we got to Anna Banana's I was hoping the Capt had changed his mind again. We sat with our friend Linda, making arrangements to do a major provisioning run along with the crew of "Sheherazade" on Tuesday. Linda was adamant that we must get up and perform, especially after she heard that we do a Billie Holiday song. Hock, a fixture at Anna's and other open mikes around town, was onstage at the moment, belting out old rockabilly tunes in his strong bass voice, and I was not looking forward to following that act. Besides, the Capt had no guitar with him, and the session was just about over. He went over to talk with Barry, the owner, and next thing I knew he was leaving in a red pickup with one of the Anna's employees. Caramba!

In a flash he was back with full gear, and we were on. We did Billie Holiday's "God Bless the Child" and Mose Allison's "Your Mind is on Vacation," and the Capt wrapped it up with an instrumental Jobim tune. I don't think I've ever had such a warm response from an audience, sparse as it was. Hey, maybe that's the secret to not being drowned out: sparse audiences! They actually listened, and when we finished a dozen people complimented my singing and asked for more. By that time I was stoked, and as the Capt and I headed home lugging his gear I was speculating about what songs we could do for our next open mike.

And since Linda had been the instigator, all but shoving me up on the stage, I demanded that she learn a Spanish song with me. She's familiar with "Sabor a Me" (The Taste of Me), so I'm going to teach it to her. When I proposed it, she got that deer-in-the-headlights look I know so well, and aha! vengeance was mine!

Open mikes in La Cruz during the cruising season are Sundays at Anna Banana's, Tuesdays at Britania, and Thursdays at Philo's, in case you ever want to give it a try.

Join Me for Breakfast in La Cruz

My fellow ex-pat bloggers have started a tradition of inviting their readers to come along for a virtual breakfast... a photo tour of their town, a plug for their favorite breakfast spot. I chose Le Reve, a scenic outdoor patio restaurant on Coral Street here in La Cruz, where we're staying for a few more days. My criteria: good food, beautiful surroundings (preferably outdoors) and above all, good coffee. Is it cheating if the chef is actually French? I leave it to you, dear readers, to decide. If you like, I'll have breakfast somewhere else this week. Really, it's no hardship.

Bernard the French chef will close up his kitchen the end of April, to reopen for the fall season sometime in October. The live music scheduled almost every night will also stop until the fall, but Arjuna, the owner, will still keep the patio open for beverage service, the Xikuri gallery and T-shirt shop. The T-shirts, by the way are some of the most beautiful you'll find in Mexico.

That's Sylvia behind the coffee/wine bar

Sylvia, who took my order and served my breakfast, was also helpful in finding a Puerto Vallarta phone book for me so I could map out a couple of places I need to find in PV. Then she brought me a glass of fresh-squeezed OJ, a cup of excellent espresso and a perfectly cooked Swiss omelet made with gouda cheese and potatoes along with a huge salad, the best salad I've had in Mexico! Merci, Bernard!

My Swiss omelet, salad, espresso and OJ came to about 60 pesos, a splurge but worth every peso

My friends Linda and Ed dropped by for quesadillas (which also came with Bernard's awesome salad) and we talked for a couple of hours. Linda used to be an engineer, and her favorite job was maintaining a mechanized life-size rock and roll band, sort of on the order of Chuck E. Cheese's marionettes but much more sophisticated. Even the blink of their eyes had to be carefully calibrated for realism and reduction of wear and tear, and the musicians' movements had to be timed to the music. The drummer's arm was always the first to break down, she said. Linda moved to Mexico in 2001 and now she lives in a garden under the biggest mango tree I've ever seen, only a block from the marina.

Some unique pieces of Huichol Indian art are on display in the Xikuri Gallery managed by Wendy, another European who moved here from Guadalajara. Sculptures covered in bead designs, yarn pictures, jewelry, even an embroidered Huichol shirt. In another space are the T-shirts and a fine collection of serapes.

The turtle living in the Le Reve fountain pool is hoping I'll just go away

It was a morning for critters. Near my table stood a fountain, and in the pool at its base I spotted a turtle sunning himself. He glared at me and submerged when I took his photo. A yellow cat rubbed my legs and made it known he wouldn't mind having a bite of my breakfast. Outside the gate, a dog dozed luxuriously on the cobblestones in the morning sun. And on my way home, a large iguana crossed the street in front of me and froze, hiding his head in the weeds, pretending to be invisible.

A satisfied customer naps in front of the restaurant

Invasion of the Gringo Girls

Dedicated to my cousin Gene in Austin...

La Cruz Marina was not the place to be yesterday if you suffered from Caligynephobia. (Sorry, just couldn't wait to use that word, which means "a fear of beautiful women.") We were invaded by the Dallas Cowboys' cheerleader team, who were filming a promo for the marina (and, no doubt, for themselves).

Raucous, awful rock music coming from the vicinity of the breakwater shattered our peaceful marina morning, and a group of girls in blue and white outfits, tall white boots and numbers on their backs, were bouncing and waving pompoms in the little amphitheater overlooking the anchorage. A blustery spot for performing but I'm sure the breezes were welcome with all the energy these muchachas were burning.

The morning's warmup was a rehearsal for last night's big performance, apparently an important occasion; the parking lot and roads to the marina were jammed with cars. Marina employees were huddled around ogling copies of the Cowgirls' 2008 calendar, with pinup shots of the girls, which were being given away (after all, a quarter of the year is gone).

"Somebody spent the big bucks bringing those girls down here," speculated the Capt.

Walking into town for a DVD and a paleta, we met Maria, who we first got acquainted with back in Feb. when she stopped us on the street to ask what kinds of services she might offer to Marina boaters. She was hoping to be a concierge, with referrals, information, deliveries of necessities like fuel, water, ice... But when she went to the Marina office to ask permission for her service, they offered her a job. So last night, resplendent in white pants suit, she was standing at the guard shack helping direct traffic. Maria told us about the Cowgirls' promotion and said they travel all over Mexico and the US doing their routines. A fun job for pretty twentysomethings.

A pity about the music, though. I'd rather hear an hour of Mexican oompah music than five minutes of that noise.

Time Flies in La Cruz

It's the 200th anniversary of the first run of the Pony Express and the Capt is going to mark the occasion with a nautical twist by taking a letter on a ten-mile round trip out into the bay in the dinghy to Paradise Village Marina. Someone on a boat there is flying home to the States tomorrow, and is willing to take mail. And yes, this letter is that important.

While Mexico does have a mail system, it's so unreliable that even the electric company and the cable company won't use it. So we send mail with people headed back to the States, and say a prayer that they'll remember to drop it at a post office. There aren't any mailboxes anymore, in case you haven't noticed. Our postmistress in Arizona says they were removed because people were putting "unspeakable" objects in them.

Oh, yes, there's also a guy at Paradise who's giving away a pair of dinghy wheels, a temptation too great to resist.

We've been in La Cruz for four days and I haven't posted, partly because I've had very poor Internet connection here in the marina. I did find a new friend, Linda, who lives in town and has DSL, so I was able to get my credit card bills paid.

Yesterday we spent the day slogging through Marina Vallarta looking for various items needed to make repairs on the boat. There are a number of places selling parts and services in the hundreds of shops surrounding the marina. I was most impressed with Canvas Connection, owned by a woman named Karen who came here from California 16 years ago, having already operated a canvas shop for years. She had planned to retire, but there was such a need here for good canvas work she ended up starting over. She's thinking now of selling the business.

I'm often struck by the opportunities that exist down here for services that are hard to find or nonexistent. I'm not only referring to money-making schemes. On the boat next to us, soon to leave for the Marquesas and beyond, is a veterinarian who brought along medications and supplies, and has been treating dogs she comes across here on the streets of La Cruz. They're often owned by local people, but have afflictions the owners can't afford to have treated. Many households have several dogs, since they don't believe in neutering. Her efforts are a drop in the bucket, as Shawn herself admits, but for a little while at least, some dogs are going to be feeling better.