An Illustrated Fairytale

Journey Through the Ass of the World

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, two fair damsels had to journey far and wide to return to the land of their origin. They met with significant strife and adversity to travel from the land of los cocos to the fair city of Puerto Vallarta.

The day started out well enough. I had the waffles with whipped cream and melon. The waffles were a bit on the soggy side, but definitely better than the unidentifiable vegetables I ate yesterday. We were having a great time. But then, all of a sudden when we least expected it, the boys decided to leave. Jenny and I conspired and decided upon a plan of attack. We attempted a divide and conquer, but the boys could not be swayed. So much for our feminine wiles.

Much faster than either of us wanted, the boys were ready to leave. Despite our requests to see us off, we were forced to see them off. We became very sad and very droopy as we watched them drive off into the wild blue yonder. We decided to soak our troubles in limonada and Fanta.

After a bit of relaxation and discussion (more discussion than relaxation), we ambled out to the bus, but not before taking about three thousand photos of everything from “our table” to ourselves posing with the wait staff. We were told that the bus would pass directly in front of the hotel at 2.00 and all we would have to do is flag it down. We stood in the hot sun for what felt like forever.

At 2.30, we waved at the bus driver, but were left waving wildly and stupidly. We didn't understand. We are nice girls. Why didn't he stop? We were clear in our intentions; we were obviously waiting for the bus.

Sweaty and defeated, Jenny and I walked back to reception. Apparently we were standing in the wrong spot and the bus couldn’t stop (reception told us to stand in front of the hotel and that’s exactly where we were standing).

The next bus was at 4.40. We had only two options. One option was to take a bus to San Blas for forty minutes (the opposite direction that we wanted to go) and then wait at the bus station for about an hour and then take the Puerto Vallarta bus from its origin. Our other option was to take an expensive taxi to a town up the road and then a bus to Puerto Vallarta from there. Neither were appealing. So we stashed our bags at reception, sat at the restaurant, and dined on margarita pizza and pina coladas. Wanting to make sure we caught the 4.40 bus, we left the hotel at 4.15. This time, we walked a bit to a flatter bit of land (reception thought that perhaps we had been standing in a bad location and that is why the bus passed us by… although we stood where they told us to).

Bored out of our skulls, we practiced hailing the bus in various ways (and even jumped around on the road just in case jumping in front of the bus was necessary).

We suffered much during this second wait. We didn’t know when the bus would arrive, so we kept our backpacks on. The palm tree trunk bench was far enough off the road that seeing the road was impossible, so we couldn’t sit down either.

(We wanted to see the bus coming). The only distractions were the frequent cat calls of strange Mexican men sitting in the back of pickups. I had no idea that there were so many desperate hard-up men in Mexico. At one point, about an hour into the wait, a large white van with no windows pulled up. A drunk man with an empty cup in one hand and a dog in the other offered us a ride. We politely declined. He told us that there were no more buses tonight. Although we were nervous about his intentions, we stood our ground and fought gallantly against this drunken dragon.

One hour and ten minutes into the wait, there was hope! A speck in the distance. Was it a run-down car with a speaker on top trying to sell plants? Was it a truck full of cat calling men? NO! It was the bus! We started jumping for joy (literally), then scrambled to take a photo of the bus (proof that it existed I suppose).

I guess this is what is meant by Mexican time. The bus was supposed to arrive at 4.40, but didn't arrive until almost 5.30. Jenny commented that she prefers German time - she likes punctuality. I just prefer not having to stand for over an hour with my backpack on. We thought about setting them down, but due to the problem with the first bus, we didn't trust the driver to stop. We wanted to be ready to leap in front of the bus or run after the bus yelling wildly and waving if need be.

We boarded to the sound of mariachi music on the television. The movie was halfway through and featured a Burt Reynolds look-a-like chauvenist pig grabbing at women, peeking at them through keyholes, and feigning blindness to get a little action. In the end, he married the blond haired blue eyed chica he had previously assaulted and was stuck with a bunch of babies and another on the way. So is the way of the world. We walked immediately to the back of the bus to take advantage of the toilet. Sadly, the toilet was locked. We had been waiting for over an hour. We had considered going back to the hotel to use their toilet, but had a feeling that the second one of us left, the bus would come. So we didn’t. We held it. As I type this an hour after we boarded the bus, we are still holding it. We have no hope of peeing within the next couple of hours. We probably won’t arrive at the hostel until ten at least, but very possibly even later than that. At the hotel, Jenny called Oasis and asked if there were two beds available. There were only three beds available. She requested two for us. I’m glad she thought of that – I hadn’t. The bus ride has been more or less uneventful. We are the only two gringas on the bus, and have gotten many stares. A woman hopped on the bus in one town, sold some tamales and hopped off in the next town. The woman sitting in front of us bought too many and offered Jenny one. Only two hours to go.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

The whole dynamic in the hostel has changed. We are in sleeping in the same room as our favorite Norwegian, but he took a bunch of 21-year-old college students out last night, and as of 8.20 AM, they still aren’t back. Jenny and I had the room to ourselves, but I’m not sure that’s so much of an accomplishment when the room smells like feet and vomit. I slept okay, but am now trapped in the room by a modern day hippie and his guitar (which is leaning in front of the door).

Last night was… I don’t even know the word for last night. We arrived at the bus station north of the airport. We paid to potty, then walked outside to find a bus to the city. We got on the first bus with Tunel painted on the window. An hour later, we stumbled off the bus and into the hostel. We expected the bus to drive directly to the hostel, but we were unpleasantly surprised. We spent an hour bumping along dirt roads in scary areas of the city.

We loudly greeted everyone we recognized and even some we didn’t. We learned that Ruben (the resident gigolo and drunk) had left (we were sad) and that Alfred was out of order!!!:) Ruben is… difficult to describe. Gigolo and drunk is a very poor description. Apparently, he left only a couple of hours before we arrived. Jenny is falling over laughing thinking about about Ruben’s tanga. I'm remembering his laugh and am a little sad he's gone.

Exhausted and starving, we crawled (almost literally) to Karina’s for tacos and quesadillas. Sadly, our fave little tanga man Oscar wasn’t there. Also sadly, Karina was ready to go out dancing, but we definitely were not. As a joke, Karina put a jjalapeno pepper on each of our plates, but Jenny was the only one with enough cajones to try it.

We chatted with Karina for awhile and then finally pealed ourselves away, went back to the hostel, and completely crashed in the vomit room.

This brings us back to this moment. The damsels conquered the dragon (aka bus) and found their way through the jungle, along dark and dangerous dirt roads, and over deadly cobblestones to the oasis.