..: OurWanderingBones :..

[ourwanderingbones]

For our last night in town, we sat down at a place just off the Malecon and watched the sun set once more. On Joey’s recommendation, we made our way to Sonorita Olas Altas, which has the best tacos al pastor in town! It was very busy, but it was so worth it once the food arrived. It was so mouthwatering! Afterwards, we walked over to Iglesia de la Santa Cruz and ate the best handmade street churros. Now THAT was a proper churro!

Next day was all about getting to the other side of town, which was closer to the airport. We returned to the first hostel we stayed at in Puerto Vallarta, home of one of the most sweetest, most protective, most smartest doggies we’ve ever met: Vikingo. Our host Marco explained that a guest brought him to the hostel as a puppy from Norway three years ago, but had to leave immediately due to an emergency at home. She left Vikingo and a suitcase there. Vikingo is Marco’s dog now, and is so funny, playful, and well-behaved. His red ball is his most favorite thing in the world.

We flew out of PV in 89 degrees and returned safely to the PNW in 39 degrees. As is pretty typical after a trip abroad, we are very appreciative of our creature comforts and the myriad things we ordinarily take for granted: hot showers, good wifi, paved streets, clean water, our jobs, being able to flush toilet paper...the list goes on. This particular journey stirred much reflection in particular, given the politics between our two countries.

Thank you Mexico for keeping us warm and safe. We met so many wonderful people who were quick to smile and help. It was truly one of the most hospitable places we’ve had the privilege of traveling to.

¡Viva México!

[ourwanderingbones]

Street art tours are always a fun way to get to know a city on foot, so we signed up for one. We met Joey Real, who started PV Street Art Tour shortly after moving here from San Diego a few years ago. As an artist himself, he thought it would be a fun way to get to know the community and get fit walking around. He pointed out different murals from many artists: Quetzal, Kika, Misael Lopez, Cheran, Lorenzo Gaz, and O3L. He led me to some very artsy and uniquely PV stores for some retail therapy. It was fun listening to his personal anecdotes about the city and he helped us answer a lot of questions. We learned so much!

[ourwanderingbones]

Danza de los Voladares (Dance of the Flyers)

[ourwanderingbones]

Puerto Vallarta was sunny and hot, which was in stark contrast to the overcast, rainy weather we experienced two weeks ago. We checked into our hostel near Playa Los Muertos and strolled down to the dock to join the other lovers waiting for the sunset.

On Valentine’s Day we walked the Malecon, admiring the many metal and fiberglass art installations along the way.

[ourwanderingbones]

We returned to San Pancho and breathed a huge sigh of relief. The town seemed to hug us. We booked a cute little bungalow on a quiet side street and it was just so perfect. We went right away to our favorite streetside restaurant: Vero (short for the cook “Veronica”). Veronica only has three tables and runs it herself, taking orders and cooking the food. Her daily special is always something new: albondigas, mole, pescado frito, chilaquiles, chile relleno... Not only is the food muy delicioso, but we also love Veronica’s kind eyes and big smile. She said right away, “I didnt see you for a few days!” We learned that she grew up in San Pancho and only lives one block from the beach. She told us that her daughter attempted to get a visa to the United States, but was denied. It is moments like these that we wished our español was better to understand her more. We love making connections with people.

The next day, we stopped by for a final, delicious lunch of chile relleno at Vero. We bid her adios and walked to the main highway to catch our bus. We will miss charming San Pancho and its wonderful people. Such a great vibe, soothing to the soul! Go see for yourself and tell Veronica we said hi!

Next stop: Puerto Vallarta. Back to the big city we go!

[ourwanderingbones]

Sometimes the backpacker life has its ups and downs.

On someone’s recommendation, we hastily booked a hostel in Lo de Marcos and set off for the tiny town. It was even more quieter and appeared even less touristy than San Pancho. The paint jobs were older and there were many overgrown lots, but I could see the charm that this small Mexican town retained. Cute little abuelitas and abuelos peered at us from their storefronts as we walked by. A very serious, matter-of-fact niña rang me up as I stood in line to buy a snack of Pinguinos Marinela (ok, and a beer lol). As we walked along the beach at sunset, a man galloped by on his horse, chased by two chihuahuas. Tranquilo.

It began during our first night in the hostel. We tossed and turned on the WORST BED EVER. There was a crater-shaped indentation in the middle of the mattress that Andrew and I kept rolling into. My lumpy pillow smelled faintly of bad breath. Our dormmates, who had been mysteriously absent all day, returned in the wee morning hours and proceeded to make chainsaw-like noises with their throats and nostrils.

After a rough nights sleep, we left to find coffee. We found a stand with an espresso machine (!) and continued our stroll to the plaza. As we sipped our cappuccinos, we stared in wonderment at the strange sight of a big group of older American people playing tennis. As we walked around the town more, listening to conversations spoken solely in English and reading signs advertised solely in English, we realized that Lo de Marcos is an unofficial American retirement community. Although we were grateful for the appearance of the espresso machine, we wondered what the drawbacks of that meant for the original inhabitants of the town. It provoked within us much debate and reflection.

It’s been a couple days, and I can finally laugh about our last night there: jarred awake at 2am by a dormmate bumping my arm as he pushed past my bed. No apology after I yelped in surprise. Proceeded to carry on a full volume conversation with another dormmate. Stench of cigarette smoke wafting through the air. Loud videos being played on cell phones. Chainsaw-like snoring. Howling and relentless whining from the hostel dog. Hostel owner not around to attend to it. At 7am, jackhammer from construction next door began, rattling the walls (and our eardrums). We gather our things and decide to flee town without stopping for coffee from that sweet ass espresso machine. Get on the next bus that is bound for San Pancho (hallelujah!). Bus breaks down soon after leaving town. Andrew makes joke about having to return to Lo de Marcos. I almost cry.

[ourwanderingbones]

[ourwanderingbones]

After a few days in Sayulita, we headed to San Francisco (aka San Pancho) in the next town over. It was a breath of fresh air, literally! The air smelled clean and fragrant and the ocean was a lovely clear shade of blue. It was more our speed: smaller, (a little) less touristy, and way more laidback. Definitely a surfer town. Everyone is so friendly, helpful, and quick to smile. And the seafood is amazing! Fresh pescado and ceviche! Homemade tortillas! This town knows the way to our hearts... We purposely left a few days blank on our itinerary and it didnt take very long to decide on a return visit to San Pancho.

[ourwanderingbones]

Aztec dancers in Sayulita Plaza

[ourwanderingbones]

Our wandering bones were long overdue for some much needed sun, surf, and sand! We arrived in a very wet (but warm) Puerta Vallarta and made our way an hour north to Sayulita, where the sun has begun to slowly show itself. The town is beautiful, with many different types of colored flags strewn above. Our hostel is open to the elements outside, and it is so warm that we sleep comfortably with only a sheet. As evening descends, birds we’ve never heard before begin their nightly symphony. We soon found our way to the “hidden” beach, which was surprisingly less-populated than I expected. We sat contemplating the ocean, reading books, and doing absolutely nothing. Just like we wanted.

[ourwanderingbones]

On our last day, we went to the Christmas Market near Tuileries Garden. It was teeming with people! We drank vin chaud and wandered from booth to booth, checking out the toys, crafts, jewelry, and food. It was a Christmas carnival, complete with rides! There were so many treats on display, including escargot! Ehh, we just didn’t have it in us to try them. I was wondering about the shells, which were still attached. We walked past, choosing to eat sausage and cheesy potatoes instead.

For our final Sunday meal in Paris, we picked dinner at Buono Sano Bello, a family run restaurant located nearby. Andrew had a clam dish and I had the carbonara one last time. Although the service was excellent and it was very good, the winner of the pasta alla carbonara dish still goes to Tira e Molla Ristorante, in Rome!

One thing is for certain: we didn’t spend nearly enough time in Rome, Florence, Barcelona, Bordeaux, and Paris. We look forward to returning again one day.

To all the people we met along the way in Italy, Spain, and France: thank you for being kind and assisting these two bumbling, American oafs.

Thank you all for joining us! Until we hit the road again!

[ourwanderingbones]

Christmas Market animals

[ourwanderingbones]

More hauntingly beautiful resting places of Parisians (unknown to us) at Père Lachaise.

[ourwanderingbones]

On Saturday, we decided to stay in the neighborhood and visit La Cimitière du Père Lachaise, in which Jim Morrison (1943-1971) rests. After all, The Doors graced our wedding with one of their songs! Alex, whom we met at the hostel, came with us. It was such a beautiful cemetery.

We walked along the winding, cobblestone pathways and found where James Douglas Morrison lay. I thanked him for sharing his gifts with us.

We also paid our respects to Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849), Oscar Wilde (1854-1900), Édith Piaf (1915-1963), and Lucienne Calmettes Calvet (1926-1944), a victim during La Libération de Paris.

As we walked and gazed upon the calm and beauty of the cemetery, Andrew brought to my attention the police/ambulance sounds in the distance. Gradually, we heard chants growing louder and shots firing. Could that be tear gas canisters or...? We exited through the north entrance and continued walking for 30 minutes until we reached our hostel, where we checked the news. Although we were 1.5 miles away, we still clearly heard the turmoil erupting at the Champs-Élysées.

[ourwanderingbones]

4/4 Paris street art (Belleville)

[ourwanderingbones]

3/4 Paris street art (Belleville)

[ourwanderingbones]

2/4 Paris street art (Belleville)