Gringo Land

I have never seriously entertained the notion of retiring abroad yet it is a popular option for Americans who want a cheaper life in Mexico among other countries. The appeal of retiring on the cheap is undeniable. But there are aspects that I find decidedly unattractive.

The bust of Emiliano Zapata a mythical Mexican revolutionary stands at the entrance to Punta Mita a former surfers beach hang out when we sailed here from California at the end of the century. His glowering presence is hugely ironic given that today this town is devoted to serving Americans living either in Mexico or surrounded by Mexico. 

Of course there are different ways to live in Mexico but we spent Monday on a slightly sentimental journey through the Bay of Banderas, the body of water that Puerto Vallarta sits upon and which we visited in 1998. It was a different world of course now, like any other population center that has evolved over twenty years.
We remembered La Cruz de Huanacaxtle as a little village with fishing boats pulled up on the beach and a few sailboats anchored inside a small municipal breakwater. We anchored outside and brought our dogs and our dinghy to land in the calm waters in front of the cruisers hangout, a little waterfront cafe. Now there is a marina and a wall.

Cruisers who want to get out and eat a bite in Mexico van cross the wall and sit on a street far outside any water view.

We found a space for  GANNET2 at the Benito Juarez park and took Rusty for his usual stroll. I was keen to see the waterfront. Easier said than done.

There are people still out there sitting in their boats. I don’t envy them. I enjoy driving and wandering through small Mexican towns and when it rains I turn on the windshield wipers. I don’t miss dragging anchors and sitting around talking about the cost of all things boat related. 

I am in a minority in these things I know, but I’d rather see the old village back. I know the clock can’t be reversed. We were here in a moment in time. The same way Key West has evolved and changed and taken the promise of wealth. I saw signs in English filled with prohibitions as we walked off the sand and came through the marina. 

I put Rusty on his leash and we walked back through the gate as though we belonged. Back to the world of  things slightly askew and potholed  streets. No drinking of intoxicating liquor in public places. A shame that as I was feeling low. 

An angry Mexican walked up to me in Punta de Mita while I stood outside the van and maybe was inside on the loo. Yeah I know, it happens. In this case this guy who was moving some trash or something was angry about something and started yelling at me and when I replied calmly in Spanish he switched to fluent English.  He told me to fuck off and this was his town and I stood there telling him to back off. It was actually quite funny as I couldn’t get into  the van or Layne would have killed me! I dared not turn my back on him as he was fingering his pocket like he was going to pull a knife. Great I thought to myself. I’m going to have to punch a man at my age. I’d better make it good. No knife appeared and I told him I was leaving. He could keep his town. He wandered off mumbling and finally Layne was ready to receive visitors. I guess I was handling it okay as the chief security officer was sitting behind a light pole firing the exchange. 

In my world view the fact that there was a resentful angry Mexican taking out his anger on foreign incomers reinforces my feelings about foreign enclaves living apart in Mexico.

Puerto Vallarta is a big city. I find it rather touching that Layne points out the Starbucks and Subways as though she is still surprised by the hegemony of American culture. I enjoy poking around Mexican tiendas and watching Layne exploring new flavors for her kitchen.  

The fact is we all like the ability to reach out for the familiar when we are away. Layne and I have been traveling for three months and the normal exhaustion that comes from constant novelty hasn’t made itself felt.

The reason is we have a life aboard GANNET2 that is as far from Mexico as Cudjoe Key. We close the door on the world and we are gone. We watch silly TV, we eat familiar food, consume familiar art and we refresh ourselves for another day of Mexico and the unfamiliar.

But we don’t want to immerse ourselves in expatriate culture. As much as Covid allows we float through the fringes of the world we have come to see. And that isn’t the world of yacht clubs or gated communities but I’m glad they are there for those who want them.

Mexico is huge, larger than you know, and most of it will never see an American. The fear and the myths and the reports of drug violence that have nothing to do with visitors keep people away. Obviously I don’t fit in that camp and I hope it’s obvious by now the dangers of Mexico are overrated. 

In these modern times the Internet makes travel easy even if you don’t speak the language. Being able to converse will add depth to a visit but  using electronic guides will get you where you want to go. 

Understanding the culture helps but you don’t need to speak Spanish. The trick is to understand the hints and not to cross invisible lines. Making assumptions and presuming will bring down the guardians of the rules. 

In La Cruz there was an unattended hose in the park and I wanted to use it to hose off the dust that has built up on our home since our last dirt road exploration. However there was no one in the park to ask permission. Should I have used it anyway? 

Layne has enjoyed visiting Mexico all her life so she needed no persuasion to make a turn to the south. I enjoy the variety from both sides of the border and I am aware of the privilege of being able to cross at will. 

I don’t recommend visiting as giving advice is generally a waste of time. But I’m glad we came.