It Took Me Three Years

It was the perfect day.

I live on a bay in a resort area, so parasailers are a common sight. I see them from my office window when I'm at work. When I lived on La Ropa beach I could see them from the front windows all day long.

Parasailing looked scary, but I always wanted to try it.


Some weird planet convergence occured this past weekend. I was at the beach with a group of people. It soon became apparent that the evening before I had promised to go parasailing with them.

My friend Terry's sister wasn't interested. Several years ago she had parasailed. She cried during the entire experience. With her eyes closed.

YIKES. It hadn't occurred to me that I would cry. Mostly I was afraid of wetting my pants. Now I had a new option...CRYING!!

Did I mention it was a perfect day? We were hanging out on La Ropa beach at Rossy's restaurant. Our loungers were in the sun, near the water. We were drinking beer. We walked up the beach for massages. We drank some more beer. We went boogie boarding. We ate tiritas and ceviche. We drank some more beer.

Then the moment of decision arrived. My friend Terry's nieces were anxious to go. The youngest one offered to take me with her -- how did she guess that there was no way was I going up there all alone?

We did it. I think I chatted nervously during the entire trip, but my memory of the experience is fuzzy. All I remember is how quiet it was, how beautiful the bay was, how free and relaxed and in-the-moment I felt.

My first thought on our return to the beach?...

When can I go again?...

It's a good thing I also love boogie boarding, massages, sleeping, and eating, or otherwise I would spend all my money and time at the beach...up in the air, quietly gliding over the bay...

One More Saturday Night, or, How I learned to eat cucarachas and enjoy it

It was Saturday night and I was listening to the Grateful Dead sing One More Saturday Night. I was also writing the draft for this blog entry, answering emails, and making a list of things I needed to do on Sunday.

Just as one season is much like another in Zihuatanejo, one day is much like another. Saturdays and Sundays aren’t really that much different from weekdays.

People in the states have asked me what my life is like here. They wonder about the daily routine of someone who is semi-retired, living in a different country. Here’s what Saturday was like:

Slept in till 9:00 AM or so (hey, it was Saturday).

Commercial Mexicana for groceries.

Autolavado y Mariscos for lunch. This place is a dual purpose enterprise -- you can have your car washed while you eat. My friend Terry found this place, and I refuse to let Terry think he's more adventurous than I am, so I had no choice but to join him for lunch. We ate mariscos crudos – raw seafood. It included shrimp, octopus, scallops, fish, and a sea creature called cucaracha (yikes! I know what you’re thinking -- but I've eaten it before and I'm still here to tell about it).

Recent Saturdays have been anything but routine. The Saturday before this one I was in Dayton, Washington with my friend Janelle eating Sicilian style spaghetti. This Saturday I was in Zihuatanejo, Guerrero eating cucarachas with my friend Terry.

I enjoy Janelle's company a lot. I enjoy Terry's company a lot. The spaghetti was good. The cucarachas were good. But I have to admit eating seafood crudo in Zihuatanejo beats eating ANYTHING in Dayton, Washington, especially on a Saturday afternoon in February. Yikes, doing anything in Zihuatanejo beats doing anything in Dayton, Washington in FEBRUARY, a month full of snow and freezing rain and grey skies.

After lunch Terry and I visited with our friends Peter and Carol, and then I had to get my rental condo ready for the guest who was arriving the next day.

After such a long difficult day we went out for hamburgers.

I got home around 10:00 PM. As I let myself into my condo complex I ran into friends (Hi Roger! Hi Bert!). We discussed what we’d been doing the last few days and made plans for an early morning walk.

At home, finally, I poured myself a glass of wine, reorganized my refrigerator, and put my clean clothes away (delivered to my door the day before by Antonio, the local laundry guy). I went to bed with dirty dishes in the sink, and I never did get around to hanging my plants up on the balcony. Or going for a swim in the pool...

But hey, it was Saturday and I was exhausted.