The Final Part of the Tour

The next stop on the Grand tour of Mazatlan (which means land of deer of all things, though our guide thought it “Should be called the land of beer, my friends, hahaha,”) was the place where I had seen the cliffdivers.

This time, the diver wanted his cash up front and I thought, brother, that is a far better way to do it. Before he was ready though, we walked around the area and I became Joe-want-me-to-take-your-picture? It seemed like the nice thing to do. Took a picture of the saskatchawan couple and talked to them about their baby for a bit. Took a picture of one of the Mexican couples, very cute together and took a picture of the pasty white folks from Minnesota. Much to my surprise, only the cute Mexican couple offered to take my picture in return. Weird.

The diver this time was the polar opposite of the fellow on Tuesday. He was short, round, very smily but clearly just as insane. I asked my guide if they needed a permit and he said no. I asked him why there weren’t more divers as this could be quite a good money making endeavour. He said it is regulated and looked at a mean looking fellow about the size of a linebacker who sat on the wall picking his teeth with a machete. (Oh ok, I made up the machete thing but I suspect his business was well protected).

The diver did as he promised, he dove off a 45 foot lookout into 5 feet of swirling water. Loco. Simply loco. The wisecracking guy made some comment about corn husking being a better way to make a living and the Nebraska women stormed off to the bus. (Personally, I think that wisecracking guy is what Sean will be like when he is 65).

Next stop, the lighthouse, the tallest in all of Mexico.

We drove up a steep road and I thought, had Margot been with me when I went wandering the other day, she would have had a proper map and convinced me to march up that hill to see the lighthouse. She was always far more willing to make an effort to see something than I was. If it wasn’t too far and too steep, I was keen, but Margot was never afraid of a little effort. We would have walked up the narrow streets and found, much to my horror that, at the top, we could only get to the lighthouse by climbing down the hill we just marched up and up an even steeper hill. It wouldn’t have deterred Margot but I might have used some swear words.

In the bus, though, it was easy to get to the lookout. 5 min the guide said so there was no way I could march down the lookout hill and up the actual lighthouse hill. It did look high up so I don’t doubt it was the highest in Mexico.

For my 5 min, I walked around taking odd pictures. A cat. Some flowers. A huge cannon. A crack in the wall. Oddly, I found that several of the other tourists would then go and take a picture of exactly what I had taken. For a moment, I thought I should take a picture of a huge dog turd but then I thought better of it.

Still nice outside. A hot but a pleasant wind blew off the sea.

After everyone had taken pictures of everything, we all boarded the bus and drove past some French built buildings with iron-wrought balconies and small colonnades. The Spanish founded the city in the 1500’s and then the French took over in the 1860s. Germans apparently showed up sometime in the late 1800’s and turned the sleepy town into an industrial port. Plus, they built a beer factory. Pacifica.

Made me laugh, really. The Spanish show up, really did bugger all with the place other than build a lovely cathedral. The French show up and build a lot of nice houses and hobnob with the rich locals. The Germans show up and build a port and a brewery. The Cruise companies come and build a promenade. The Americans come and build condos and McDonalds.

It would have been nice to stop but that was not on the agenda.

Why? Because we had to stop for shopping.

Ack!

This time, though, when we were led in, I reversed my engines and left. I had no interest in more silver and gems and pretty girls with low cut tops trying to sell me trinkets. Instead, I was not more than a block from where I had been dropped off for the Carnival and so I decided to look around the area I walked during the night. I took pictures of doors and painted buildings and lampposts and anything bright and vaguely colonial.

I wasn’t sure how much time I had so I didn’t go too far but managed to find a neat little courtyard, learned where I had walked in search of a taxi and found some hidden wall frescos. I got back but had to wait a little bit before we headed off (which was not a bad thing as I sat on the seawall again and caught a few rays).

After the shop, we went for a wee walk and by ‘wee’ I mean weeeeeee. 2 blocks. Hahaha. The guide had to sheppard the group out of the middle of the road and keep them on the sidewalk to avoid getting run over. He led us to a bakery where we could buy treats.

Oh boy.

No matter, I went off down the nearby streets and saw a bit more of the old town. It was all very deserted and a far cry from the ‘goldenzone”, most of the traffic being taxis or trucks (in a very big hurry for some reason.)

By the time I got back, everyone was out munching pasties and it wasn’t long before we moved on. Another block.

This time we stopped at an authentic hacienda, something we had to pay an extra dollar for. Oh, old Joe might have pointed out that we had to pay for the cliff diver and little bakery treats and now a tour of a house and that should have been part of the price but new Joe will not say a word. Not one. He won’t even point out that we walked farther inside the shopping stores than we did ‘touring’ the old town. Nope.

The hacienda smelled great. Old wood and honey wax. All the seats had signed that said not to sit on them. I loved the office, with its many drawered hutch and the many windows and doors all open to the outside. All the rooms were roped off to keep grubby hands from messing up the displays.

I took more pictures but my battery was running low which I thought was very strange (it wasn’t until I got home and found out that I shot about 8 min of video of the inside of my pocket. Stupid ass touch-screen camera). I also found the main balcony that overlooked the square and I thought what a great house this would have been to live so in long ago.

As the others continued to look at the house, I raced into the square to look around. Eventually the tour went there as well but moved through it pretty quickly. We went to the Opera House and then made our way to our waiting bus. I think we must have walked 6 blocks total. I however walked a few more and got a pretty good sense of the old town. Plus, I realized that I’d done pretty well navigating in the dark.

We were driven home and I had an attack of the missing-Margot weepies, made all the worse because I couldn’t scrub the tears out of my eyes because of my contacts and had to dab them away. Not as effective. Good thing I had sunglasses on.

We got back around 1:30. I thought I would sit outside in the sun for a bit but, instead, felt sleepy and took a small nap. Hey, it’s a vacation after all.

However, my snooze took 4 hours!

Sure I hadn’t slept too well for the last few nights but I had no idea I was that tired. Woke up in time to see the sunset though, then went down to have supper. I hoped I would get my favourite waiter.

(the pictures are, homes near the waterfront - taken while everyone else looked at silver. The bakery which smelled like heaven. A restored door - Margot loved taking pictures of doors).