When I think about it an RV park in Mexico can feel a lot like some of the diplomatic compounds I’ve seen in various embassies in foreign parts. Of course there is no diplomatic immunity here but the rules of RV park life in Mexico differ a good deal from those in the States. Imagine that! And also from daily life in the Mexico that surrounds each park.
Our spot in Punta Pérula is perfect for us, small but private and close to the impeccably clean showers and toilets. We have access to water and electricity (though our 30 amp outlet may need a service if my ground reader was correct) and a sewer dump is also at each site so you can park here all winter for $18 a night $15 per night per week or $330 a month in US dollars with a small surcharge to plug in. This place is packed with Canadians and one couple from Michigan though Debbie did point out she lived for years in Port St Lucie and one RV is from California. Of the Canadians two RVs are from British Columbia while the rest are from Québec. French is spoken here.
There are some RVers and Overlanders who categorically refuse for reasons of principle of economy to ever stay in a paid campground, but we are pensioned old farts so we can afford to lay and there are frequently times when it’s easiest to pay. The big draw here for us is the swimming beach. We are in the water twice a day for an hour each time. It’s lovely once you work your way past the modest surf.
I freely admit we were looking forward to wild camping at Tenacatita but after we got over our disappointment at not making the steep and torn up entrance track in our Promaster we knuckled down and recalled what a pleasant place this had been last year for the three nights we stayed.
And let’s face it having hot running water, trash collection, on site water refills and neighbors who, once they learned I can mangle French opened up to us without fear of looking stupid mangling their English, well I say what’s not to like?
I love listening to the Québécois chatting, soaking up the sun, reveling I’m not being in a snowdrift. They live large in the tropics.
There are other dogs in the park but Rusty has the run of the place so far as he bothers no one, doesn’t bark and when feeling threatened by the crowds of dogs or humans retreats politely to the comfort of his home. He’s entirely happy and I don’t have to bother with leashes. Twice a day he wants to go for a walk when he drops his eggs far from the compound and I promptly pick them up a la gringo so no one has to be annoyed by him. It is a very civilized arrangement. He also keeps getting stopped by nice French ladies who crowd him and let him and he sits there preening and lets them make a fuss of him.
He’s not keen on walking into town thanks to his fear of dog gangs. But the beach? There he can’t be ambushed so he has become a beach lover. And it’s not a bad place for that. Take your chair of your hammock and hang in the shade provided by the campground owner Sonora Yolanda. On weekends tents sprout like magic under the awnings and the place fills with Mexican campers enjoying the facilities. The cove here is totally laid back - in three languages!
We aren’t going to do much for the next week or so. When we do leave, and we are in no hurry, we’ll drive two hours south to Manzanillo for an oil change and a tire rotation and alignment. Then we want to drive inland to meet some friends we encountered on the road last year. They have settled in a campground near Lake Chapala where more Americans and Canadians have settled than s us here else in Mexico. That will be a new experience for us. Our friends are from Lichtenstein and got jobs at an RV park run by a Swiss owner ( Switzerland and Lichtenstein ate next door) so I’m looking forward to their perspective.
Meanwhile we sleep without air conditioning, we lounge and drive through our kindle libraries, we walk a reluctant dog into town and we swim. This is one of those pauses on the road that need to be fully embraced because it won’t always be this luxurious or easy. I do know that.
