San Juan de Alima, Michoacán

“Where are we?” I asked Layne. 

“I don’t know but I like it,” she replied.

We had found a campground on iOverlander in an area where there aren’t many marked and those that are, serve the surfing set not old foges in vans looking for ocean dipping pools. Hotel Gonzalez it was called and it caused some differences of opinion in the family. The good news was the promise of WiFi where our phone reception had been dead for miles..,

On the one hand it is cheap at 100 pesos for the van, ie: five bucks a night. On the other hand the toilets have no seats and the shower had no head but also had no handle. Mr Adaptible (that’s me in case you’re puzzled) said no problem we’ll fill the solar shower and use it in the shower room (whose floor was covered in sand. Sigh). Mrs B’s complaint was rather substantial in that every surface wanted cleaning and the owner was nowhere to be found. Rusty was fine with staying. 

A guest from Detroit of all places visiting his folks in Mexico woke up another guest in his hammock (!) and secured us the WiFi password. The guy in the hammock was totally okay with being woken up for such stupidity. I was all gringo and embarrassed but then Detroit Frank (Francisco originally) called the owner and assured us we were good to stay. That and the mother of three who took a break from barbecuing her family’s holiday lunch to give us a watermelon…I was in with both feet. Then the ice cream guy walked by with dollar ices, singing “Paletas de Michoacán!”

Layne had a hibiscus sorbet and I had a coconut strawberry ice cream:

Notice how grubby my fingernails are. Layne says I need to wash more dishes but no matter how often I scrape them they always look gross. Sorry about that, van life and all that. Back to the delightful San Juan de Alima for that was where we were after we investigated our location using the WiFi. 

Ron showed up in his Ford F-350 van and we saw no sign of the owner so we went for a walk. We didn’t get far.

Sausages and stewed beef tacos. We ate nine of them. Four women ran the show, a cook, a tortilla maker, a cashier and a fourth woman whose job I don’t recall. Maybe it was saleswoman because we kept eating. Rusty made friends. 

The town is a single street a few feet below the highway wedged under Highway 200 and above the long sandy beach. We tried swimming but the waves and the undertow made anything more than wading impossible for us. Little wonder this is surfer dude coast. 

Ron for just Russian girlfriend Alima a souvenir from San Juan de …Alima and I persuaded our trio of Puritans fried bananas with condensed milk would make an excellent pudding. 

While we waited I wandered around e joying the atmosphere of what is a town dedicated to tourism for Mexicans. Menudo is trips and I’m not a fan but I loved the smell of the wood fire. He thought it was hilarious I wanted a picture of his fire. And I forgot to ask him what barbecued pregnant (embarazado) shrimp are per the sign on the wall. 

Rusty investigating a pancake stand. He did pretty well on the walk but in the end he was happier leashed and we kept him out of traffic and away from one nasty dog and his tail fluttered tall once again. 

As you can see the ocean is a stones through from the main drag. 

The fried banana guy. 

Nice t-shirt dude! And the bananas…we ravaged them. 

Rusty got his explorations done before we leashed him for his own good. 

The sun was setting, a fact I tried to record. 

There was more to explore but the Hotel Gonzalez fiasco wasn’t going to hold up. I got one essay posted to this page and the WiFi never again connected to my phone. I know it’s not the end of the world and I’m lucky I don’t make a living uploading YouTube or something but that little gringo voice of irritation at a service promised but not delivered combined with the no swimming beach and Layne’s annoyance at the mess and lack of interest by the owner pushed us out of San Juan. A pity ethos’s but there is much more coast to explore. Some pictures of our short time there:

The always weird to me cobbled roads with cement strips: 

Not a bad spot despite the drawbacks. 

Rusty enjoying the cool tiles. Luckily no one came out of room 2 to find a dangerous dog on their doorstep. I think the upstairs rooms were occupied before these downstairs rooms. 

Above we see Francisco asking the guy in the hammock for the password. Frank had T Mobile and he said service was perfect! Below the ice cream van on the beach that I never had a chance to test!