Adios Puerto Vallarta

As I sit on the balcony of my villa and watch the sunset on the last night of my Mexican holiday I can’t help but reflect.

Puerto Vallarta is a lovely place. Despite a full schedule I’m rested and content, not exhausted as I have been after many of my urban holidays.

But it’s not without its blemishes. It’s jammed to the teeth with tourists. In *most* of the bars and restaurants I visited the *only* Mexicans were the staff.

The city has the feel of being both unfinished and falling down. I’m told this is common in Mexican cities.

But Puerto Vallarta’s charms far outweigh any detractions. It’s pretty and balmy. The people are friendly and beautiful. The scenery is picturesque. Most of this place’s faults are charming or just harmless.

And what a time I’ve had! Even losing a day to stupidity and another to food poisoning I still had all the adventures I’d hoped for and many unexpected ones.

I’ve wined, dined, imbibed and partied. I’ve breathed under water and swum with dolphins. I’ve marveled at the majesty of the seas and the heavens.

I’ve heard the Mexican Hat Dance as taxi driver’s cell phone ring. I’ve seen the Wicked Witch of the West bussing tables. And I’ve seen a pimped out bus with undercarriage lighting.

I’ve told an eavesdropping, interrupting, white-trash skank in a restaurant to go fuck herself in response to her demands I stop criticizing American tourists for being obnoxious. (Oh the irony.)

I’ve drunk tequila, eaten crickets, gone native and come down with a most delicious case of jungle fever.

I remembered more Spanish than I expected, but far less than I needed.

In other words, I’ve had a most excellent adventure.

Gracias, Puerto Vallarta. Hasta Luego.