Cruising the Mexican Riviera

by Marci Baun ©2004

For all of the international travel I have done, in all my travels, I have never really visited Mexico. (Tijuana and camping on the beach in Baja California don’t count.) When Charlie and I considered a cruise for vacation, I was reluctant. We had taken a cruise for our honeymoon – my first ever – and I didn’t care for it. Oh, the place was beautiful, Tahiti, but the entire ten days we spent in a new port every day. Too much. But because Charlie loves to cruise, I decided I would try it one more time.

I am so glad that I did. This cruise, while shorter, had three at-sea days. How absolutely lovely! That meant I had three days of forced inactivity. For those of you unfamiliar with me, you don’t know how hard it is for me to not be working on something if there is anything that needs to be, or could be, done at all.

Our first two days we spent sleeping, eating and sitting on our balcony. I tried to do some reading -- a book or two from the local library, my mind wandered to… nothing. All I wanted to do was sit out on the balcony and watch the wake of the ship churn up the water. Indigo mixed with aqua and turquoise and varying shades of blue to white proved to be hypnotic and relaxing. The sound of churning water filled our ears. And with nothing to watch on TV, unless you are into really bad movies, I let my mind turn off.

By the time we reached our first port, Puerta Vallarta, I was ready to escape the ship. Since we were visiting during the dry season, the foliage was not as lush or green as I expected, but it was still a beautiful place. We took one of the shipboard tours. The price of the tour didn’t break our bank, the tour guide, Emma, was lovely, and we escaped from the ship for a few hours. Charlie said that he would have been perfectly fine not taking any tours, but what would we do then?

There were so many that I would have loved to do, but couldn’t because I am pregnant. No horseback riding, no ATV, no mountain biking, no scuba diving or bungee jumping… (sigh) Charlie burns so easily and doesn’t like to snorkel, so no snorkeling either. This drove me a little nuts, of course. I am such a water baby that no snorkeling is something of a bummer, but we make compromises for each other. He wanted to ATV, but didn’t. Nor did he complain about it. (Sweet man!)

Puerta Vallarta, besides being a bit dirty and exotic, has two claims to fame: The Night of the Iguana, with Richard Burton, and Predator, with Arnold Schwarzenegger. Both movies had this as their location. Of course, when Night came out, the town had maybe 4000 inhabitants, and Burton loved the town so much that he and Elizabeth built a house here in the area that would later be called Gringo Gulch. A very young town (only 150 years old), the Mayans originally used this location for worshipping their gods and burying their dead. The Spaniards did the same until they found silver ore in the mountains. Even then, they didn’t build roads into the town until the 1970s. Since then, Vallarta has grown from 25,000 residents to its current size of 300,000. The old town, a good jaunt from the pier, is the heart of the city, and the place any tourist should visit. The shops are plenty, and the buildings are rustic, some better kept than others. While the ship recommends certain shops, our guide reassured us that all of the shops carried good quality at a reasonable price. (I don’t know about you, but $20 for a baseball cap is not what I would call reasonable. grin) Our guide, Emma, was quite good. We stopped to photograph Los Arcos before continuing on to our destination: the jungle tour. Well, unfortunately, this wasn’t the greatest tour. It was the dry season, after all. And while that was a good thing since I really didn’t want constant rain, the jungle reminded me of walking through the Santa Monica Mountains at home with different flora. (The coconut trees here can only be found in Mexico. The nuts are used specifically for suntan oil now, although at one time they also became cooking oil.)

We stopped in a very picturesque canyon. We could have eaten lunch if we so desired, but the prices were too much for my taste. Why spend $11.50/plate for chicken shish kabob when you can eat free on the ship? Charlie tried to assure me that, being on a tour like this, I should have expected the price. Perhaps. But for me, it angered me, especially after we consumed two baskets of chips and salsa for the whopping price of $2 each. I felt like we were being taken advantage of because we were tourists. I think many of the other people did as well since there were very few partaking of the fare. One person I spoke to the next day said that she was so disappointed in the tour that she demanded a refund. After our Mazatlan tour, I completely agreed.

Puerta Vallarta, although relatively small, is very spread out. Graffiti covered a lot of buildings, but we found this in Mazatlán and Cabo San Lucas as well, although not to the same extent.

At the end of the day, we ate at the ritziest restaurant on the ship. The quality of the food far exceeded my expectations. For twenty-five dollars a head, the waiters served us shrimp cocktail, gourmet salad and bread, a side dish, a scrumptious entrée (mine was free range chicken breast cooked to perfection), and this bone-meltingly good, flourless chocolate cake with homemade ginger ice cream. Not my favorite choice of ice cream flavor, vanilla would have done the trick with this chocolate, but still good. Four different people waited upon us. Since we generally eat at less expensive restaurants at home, I am not accustomed to all of the attention. They even folded my napkin and put it in my lap for me. (grin) Did I mention our view? Out our window, we could see Puerta Vallarta in all her nighttime glory. Strangely enough, for a city of some 300,000 people, I would have expected more of the hillside to be lit up. Instead, the darkness of the jungle closed in upon the town quickly, leaving the sky brilliant with stars.

Of the three cities we visited, our next stop, Mazatlán, was my favorite by far. We signed up for the Old Mazatlán Tour. Clean with friendly people and a lot of history, we had an awesome time.  The inhabitants take a great deal of pride in their city and heritage, and it shows.

Our tour began with a taxi ride to our drop off place. The first stop? Cliff divers. They dove from 40 ft up into 7 ft of water. Yes, 7 feet. They waited on every sixth wave for the right level of water. They didn’t get paid except for tips.

These three sculptures were created by the same artist. The first with the dolphins is called the Continuation of Life.  The mermaid on the rock symbolizes love. In the back, you can see the famous, and newer section, of Mazatlán known as the Golden Zone. This is where most of the natives live now. It’s also where the new resorts are. We never did go to the Golden Zone as it was so far away from the ship. This last one, I don’t remember, but she was so beautiful, I made Charlie take a photo of her. (grin)

Beyond this out in the ocean stood two rocks known as the Brothers, or the twins. The legend says that two brothers fell in love with the same woman. One day they fought to the death to determine who would have her. The brothers’ bodies were found the next day. One body was on the left rock, and the other was on the right. The woman disappeared. Here, the legend gets a little murky. The natives believe she was an American who returned home in search of two more brothers to bewitch.

From here, we looked across the street. A dilapidated bridge hung high above us. Before the beachfront street we stood on was built, this bridge was the only way to travel between the two areas of Mazatlán. As you can see, it’s in serious need of repair, but it is privately owned. The buildings are also privately owned, although once the buildings housed the best restaurant in town. The most expensive houses are up on these cliffs, of course, but isn’t that usually the way in most cities?

Below the bridge is a cave that was used as an icebox by the fishermen before the days of power. The fishermen had ice shipped all the way from San Francisco. The cave is now called Le Diablo, The Devil, due to the rank smell and its dark, scary nature. In recent years, the authorities closed this cave because, well, the things that went down in it didn’t please them. (grin) Now, during Carnaval, Mardi Gras, the police use it as a holding pen for those who misbehave.

Old Mazatlán is charming. All the houses have bars on the windows. In part, this is due to their Spanish heritage – the way it is done here, it looks much nicer than at home – but it has become a security measure as well. This street is the oldest in Mazatlán. Our guide, Elva, pointed out one more security feature used in Mexico: broken glass on the walls. She joked that this was to keep their husbands at home, but I told Charlie that we’d never get away with it in the States. I think it’s much more effective than barbed wire, but if a burglar cut himself breaking into a person’s house, she’d be sued. You can guess how I feel about that.

Although it’s hard to tell by these photos, the curbs are abnormally high. Logic said this was due to the 45” of rain Mazatlán receives during its rainy season, June through October. Elva confirmed this assumption. In the meantime, it’s just a large step up.

The majority of the houses in old Mazatlán are owned by Americans or Canadians. In 1985, the city council passed a law requiring that all old buildings had to be renovated and kept, on the outside, in their original design. Most natives can’t afford to buy an old home then bring it up to code. Even the smaller houses can cost $50,000 just to renovate. This white house with red trim on the corner is owned by an American. According to our guide, this house easily cost around $100,000 to renovate. To one other person on the tour who’s from Studio City and myself, this didn’t seem like that much when you consider the outrageous sums houses go for in Los Angeles. If I found a house for that amount in Watts, I’d be surprised.

From here, Elva took us into a house that an American firm had turned into apartments for visiting Americans and Canadians. For the measly sum of $600 a month, not including utilities, etc, you could get one of these lovely, one-bedroom apartments. This is just the courtyard. The ceilings were easily 10 feet high, but when the temperatures exceed 90-110 F in the dry season, they are necessary to keep the apartments livable. These apartments do offer air conditioning, a large common room, and a communal kitchen/dining area and bathrooms. A three-bedroom apartment with a large suite is only $700 per month. When you consider how much a cruise or even a week at some resort costs, that’s not bad. Three couples could stay in Mazatlán, a beautiful, exotic, beach city, for approximately $233 each. Okay, you may want to split the cleaning lady and a chef. That will add more. Still, it’s not bad. One would be lucky to find a studio apartment in Los Angeles for that amount in a scary part of town. These are beautiful apartments. According to Elva, many of them are rented out by families year after year for three or more months at a time. I wonder what kind of jobs these people have that allow them to spend part of their year in Mazatlán. Sign me up! Of course, before I go, I would learn Spanish. While the natives did speak good English, to spend that amount of time in a country without knowing enough of their language to communicate is stupid and disrespectful.

Before moving on to the oldest house still native-owned, we stopped in at a bakery -- the oldest bakery in the city. The same family has owned this bakery for the past 140 years. The owner was gracious enough to allow us to tour her home. The front part of the “house” acted as the store for her baked goods. Old photographs of her family and Matzalan lined the store walls, scrumptious goodies beckoned to be eaten (I did.). A step through a doorway, and we entered her home. A sweet, black and white kitty waited for us on a chair for some loving. I lost no time doing that. (grin) The upstairs portion of the building the owner had sectioned off into four or five apartments. Many of them didn’t have glass windows and faced the communal courtyard, which was a mess. Every room that I entered contained  the necessary fan.

The Machado House is the oldest house in the city. Built in the 1830s, it is still owned by the original family. In order to maintain their house, the family has turned half of the upper half into a museum for tourists and the lower half into a restaurant. The following photos give us a glimpse into a Mazatlan from a bygone era. Again, the ceilings are high, and the rooms are large. One room held costumes of Carnavals past and present. This is the view from their balcony of the main plaza. At night, all of these little shops become open-air cafes. I wish we could have stayed to see this. I imagine it was charming. Alas, the ship sailed at 6 pm.

We stopped for a few minutes at one of the cafes in this plaza for drinks and some chips and salsa. After two hours on our feet, it felt good to sit. But we were on a time limit and quickly moved to our next stop: The Angela Peralta Teatro. It is the oldest in opera theater house in Mazatlán as well as the only opera house on the West coast of Mexico. Originally called the Rubio Teatro, after the man who started the building process in 1869, the city renamed it to honor the most famous Mexican opera singer. She had come to perform, but never did. She died in a hotel a few buildings down from the theater, one of the many victims of the yellow fever epidemic in 1883.

Between 1964 and 1975, it became a movie theater, but sat empty for ten years. Then in 1985, a hurricane hit Mazatlan and destroyed the theater. This may have been the most fortunate thing to happen for the old theater because the city stepped in and decided to restore it to its former beauty. Several thousand dollars later, the theater is now operational. Only the iron bars that encase the balconies are original. Since the workmen were fixing the electrical at the time, I couldn’t go on stage. (sigh) Oh, but I wanted to! I really wanted to try out the acoustics.

I bought very little on this trip, but I was enchanted by a leather mask I found in an artist community called Nidart. A number of artists live in this one house, working, learning and selling their artwork. And believe me, the artwork here was amazing.  Many years ago while in Venice, I saw similar work of this quality and wanted this beautiful leather butterfly mask. Because I was on a budget, I didn’t buy it… and lived to regret it. That being said, this mask was not expensive and simply too beautiful to pass up. When the computer room finally becomes computer/nursery, this mask will hang above our baby’s crib.

Paintings, ceramics, jewelry, sculpture and leather were among the works offered for sale. If I could have, I would have bought most of the art here, especially that beautiful wall piece behind me. I’m not sure where I would have put it, but that would be a minor detail. (grin) Of course, the l’arte de muertos I would pass on. A skeleton angel hanging over my bed would give me nightmares. (shudder)

The tour ended at the main cathedral in the city, La Basilica de la Inmaculada Concepcion. It always amazes me how in many of these towns the people are really poor yet the church is gilded with gold and a huge impressive structure. And truly, it was. Before our tour guide left us to explore the church alone while she waited outside, she admonished us to be quiet, take our hats off and no pictures. Sure, a lot of people listened to the no pictures part. I did, but, then, with a digital camera and the dark interior with its high ceilings and long rows of pews, the area is not conducive to good photos. I’ve been in many cathedrals in the past, and even with a regular 35 mm, photos rarely turn out the way one envisions. So, we walked in, looked around a little and quickly went back outside. Since it was built in the mid 1800s, it did not have that feeling one traveling Europe would experience: the weight of hundreds of years of history. (If you have not been to a cathedral in Europe – this includes the British Isles – then you must go. You will see what I mean.) Regardless, a beautiful cathedral in its architecture and worth seeing as it is the focal point of most locals’ lives.

Cabo San Lucas left much to be desired. As I couldn’t do most of the tours that appealed, we decided to spend a few hours wandering around the town. The youngest and smallest of the three towns, Cabo is primarily a resort town for Southern Californians, judging from all the yachts in the harbor, that is.  The town wasn’t that exciting, but, from what I learned later, it’s known for its nightlife, something we were going to miss as our ship departed at 4 pm. As we only took a few photos and didn’t buy anything (The one thing I wanted, a tanzanite pendant, was $600. Yes, I have expensive taste.) I did have to take a picture of Cabo Wabo, Sammy Haggar’s famous club. Why? Just because. If Charlie hadn’t said something to me about it, I wouldn’t have known it existed.

The most “exciting” part of the trip, and I use that word sarcastically, was the last two nights at sea. The downside to having an aft cabin is that, even seven floors or more above the engines, I could still feel the engines whirring. Now, up to that point, it hadn’t bothered me, but these last two nights were against the current. The ship vibrated so much that I felt like we were sleeping in a bed at a cheap motel, and one of us had put a quarter in it to give us a “massage”. Although that did keep me up a bit, what clinched it was the loud creaking of the cabin. The cabin walls popped so loudly at times that I had visions of first the ship breaking in half and everyone on board becoming shark bait then our cabin separating from the rest of the ship and falling into the ocean. This would happen so quickly that the alarm couldn’t be sounded in time, nor the lifeboats lowered to the water before all of us drowned, and the ship sank. There were moments the popping grew so loud that it sounded like someone was clapping. So much so that I reached over and touched Charlie’s hands thinking he clapped in his sleep. And while my rational mind kept telling me that the likelihood of the ship breaking apart was slim, I imagined it anyway and thought about everything I wanted to grab (clothes, shoes, laptop, camera, etc.) should it happen.

I tormented myself with this for two nights. No matter how hard I tried, this irrational fear kept filling my head. (chuckle) Yes, I do find it funny now. The weird thing about it all was that during the day, the ship didn’t creak or pop as much nor as loud. Even Charlie agreed. Of course, we were generally busy during the day, but still, at night, the sounds did grow louder.

All in all, I highly recommend this cruise to anyone. The ship, a member of the Carnival line, was designed to accommodate partiers, families and those of us who just want to get away and relax. The food was excellent, and the weather was beautiful. Even if I did come home a bit more tired than leaving, due to those two last nights, I am glad we went and would go again. The next time, though, I might try to leave that imagination at home!

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Marci Baun is the editor-in-chief of Wild Child Publishing and Freya's Bower. Ms. Baun was five months pregnant during the cruise. This article was first published by Wild Child Publishing in April of 2004.