Acapulco

It is getting late on Thursday evening as I ring the buzzer to get into my house. Cha cha, the crazy dog, is yapping away as Silvia, my host grandmother, makes her way to the door. As she opens the big golden garage door I exclaim and I have “una cosa bueno y una cosa malo” (a good thing and a bad thing because I don’t know the word for news). I tell her that I’ve decided to visit Acapulco this weekend “cosa buena”, but that I have no clean clothes “Cosa malo” she dramatically plays along. We quickly get to work putting in the dark load and then watch the telenovellas, the super over dramatic Spanish soap operas while the washing machine does its thing. There is no dryer, so all of my clothes are strung across rooms and hanging across broom handles. I pray that it will be dry by morning. I am disappointed and take a heavy ball of damp clothes to school with me. There is a dryer on the roof of the building and I beg the sweet cleaning lady to let me use it and thankfully, she does. I’m good to go!

This weekend I tagged along on a trip with Josh to Acapulco. His boyfriend is coming to visit but wasn’t interested in Acapulco so I generously volunteered to tag along and keep him company. I am so sweet. After school we have an hour to kill so we grab lunch and chat and then make our way to the southern bus station. It is no surprise that his small blue backpack had plenty of room to spare while my huge red backpack is pulling at the seams. I have yet to master the art of packing light.

On the bus I am surrounded by vacationing Mexicans excited to make use of the long weekend. 5 rainy hours are passed by American movies dubbed in Spanish and conversation with my seat buddy and her six year old son. The son and I play tic-tac-toe and taught each other the shapes in our native language (I still have the paper as a study guide). He was much better at counting than I.

Josh and I weren’t on the same bus, but his arrived soon after mine and we grabbed a taxi to our hotel, the Seascape Hotel. The taxi driver was telling us our far our hotel was from the beach and that we should check out his buddy’s place and gave up when we told him we had a reservation. The hotel had its glory days in the 1960’s, but beggars can’t be choosers and I was thrilled to be on the beach. Turns out our beach was a 10 minute walk down a steep hill; very manageable indeed. It was kind of late and we were both tired from the bus. We enjoyed a sandwich and a few beers from the outdoor kitchen and bar next to the pool and then went to sleep. Interestingly enough, one of the decorations from the pool was an Ohio license plate. Small world.

The next morning we grabbed our gear and swimsuits and headed down the hill to the beach. We walked along the crowded coast until we found a beach entrance and hopped down the steps, climbing over the guy sleeping and found the ocean. Yay! What a nice change from the noise and bustle of the city! There were about a zillion cabanas lined up and we rented towels, cushions and settled in. We were the only ones there other than the restaurant staff. Apparently we were the early birds. We ordered cheese quesadillas (apparently breakfast food here), fresh pineapple juice and coffee and settled in with our paperback, only to be interrupted every five minutes by someone selling something.

I have mentioned before that the volume of people selling stuff, all kinds of random stuff, is incredible. But, in the name of being a thorough writer, I kept a list of things that we could have bought without leaving the cabana:

· Sunglasses
· Green pumpkin shot glasses
· Massages (they carried around a text book to make themselves more official looking)
· Cover ups and swim suits
· Coconut water
· Shrimp (out of a sand pail, no less)
· Sand toys
· Giant toy boats
· Tons of jewelry
· Henna tattoos
· Our names written in a shell
· Some turtle lotion that is supposed to be an aphrodisiac
· Sandals
· Boat rides
· Hang gliding
· Glass bottles of what looked like kool aid that the sellers would clink together to let you know they’d arrived
· Hammocks
· Mobiles
· Hair braiding
· Giant masks made out of grasses and dyes (I wish I had taken a picture)

And, when he went to use the bathroom, my friend had the opportunity to buy coke and weed. He declined.

We spent two lovely mornings on the chewing through our paperbacks. We also visited the local fort, Fuerte de San Diego, built in 1616 to protect the area from pirates and offers an excellent view of the bay and city. We strolled through the center of town and went to a club for a while on Saturday night. The club looked like a pirate ship and the drinks were 2 for 1; both drinks arrived at the same time. I felt like I was a bit of a lush when there were four drinks on the table and only two people. Oh well, the first two disappeared quickly. The other cool thing we did was see the cliff divers.

I’m not sure how this spectacle got started, and my guidebook was no help as far as the history. But, for a few bucks, you can see a bunch of guys in Speedos climb down or dive off of the closer cliff into the rocky water, climb up the much taller cliff facing the audience, and time their impressive dives into the choppy water with the oncoming waves. There were different platforms (a generous term for the little areas no bigger than their feet) and the guys took turns, each guy diving a little higher than their buddy before them. The guidebook says that they dive up to 35 meters and I think it is no exaggeration. The final guy in hanging out at the top of the cliff and prays to the patron saint of Mexico, Guadalupe. I would be too. The top of the cliff is easily twice as tall as the first platform. It was a very cool show.