heart swells

We are in Mexico. We is myself, my sister, and my brother-in-law. He has never been out of the country. My sister and I have. Many times. We went to Canada and to Mexico with our parents as children and at 15, I traveled with my sister, 3 years younger, throughout Europe for six weeks on our own. And I do mean on our own. But that is a story for another time. 

This story is about being here in Mexico and about gratitude. It turns out this week is the week of the Mexican Revolution. I was happy to fly out of San Francisco. I love my city but it  has has been a party that will not end for weeks. The city has been crowded with celebrations for the The Giants, Halloween, Day of the Dead, and the exhaustive re-election. The City and I are weary with gratitude for all the wins and the dead working with us. Victory is exhausting.

 We arrive to Puerto Vallarta to find it also on a bender, flooded with folks from Guadalajara. Warmer shores are something all people tend to head for, especially during a national holiday.  Between the Americans fleeing Thanksgiving and the Mexicans  on vacation, the town is jammed.   Perhaps this is the reason our reservation has been lost or mistakenly given to someone else. After some time at the reservation counter we end up in what has to be the best room at the resort. We have three bathrooms, a kitchen , a view to die for and the beach is our front yard. Waves of gratitude for fortitudinous mistakes.

Years back, seeking warmer shores, visitors to Puerto Vallarta had to gird themselves against an army of small bright eyed children selling Chiclets. Even those who never had and never would chew gum had to buy.  To do otherwise would be cold hearted. And good vacations by their nature entail the heart swelling or stretching. 

There no longer is an army of children selling Chiclets. That army has been replaced by an army of young men and women with bright white Chiclet like teeth, offering vacation sweeteners  and asking only in return that you come to a presentation. Time share presentations. Do you want a spa day and massage , a jungle tour, a bay cruise,, a hundred dollars off your car rental, a bottle of tequila, a feast on an island?  This can be arranged.  You just have to give 90 minutes of your time and take a tour of fabulous property… breakfast buffet and day pass included.

I steered sister and brother-in law past the gauntlet of Chiclet teethed young people at the airport, only to lose them when I was renting a car. They took up conversing with what they thought to be one of the rental agents. Next thing I knew they had us signed up for “Rhythm’s of the Night” – a boat trip to islands and a dinner and show and $150 was coming off our car rental. All this merely for using a day pass to a swanky resort. A day pass because I said absolutely no to a time share presentation. I said it many many times and the Chiclets flashed and the head bobbed and bobbed in reassurance. Just a day pass.

But then, things changed. It’s hard to say no, jobs depend on it, please just go along with it, it will be fine, my boss will be mad at me. So we end up far from our old fashioned small time resort where you walk right out to the beach and we drive down the road to Nuevo Vallarta  to the sky scrapers where they compare the grandeur to Dubai and indoor ice skating and  swimming with dolphins and show you the site the traditional Mexican village is going to be put in and Disney will be there too. And Casinos. The Chiclets are being flashed like crazy and you can see the edgy greed in the tourists eyes, being offered a taste of living like the 1% , high in skyscrapers with an oceanviews and jacuzzi’s on the deck., able to order up anything they desire. Margaritas, beach cabanas, golf, private massage. Because there is always more and more to be had and to be added.

I am honest, firm, but kind, and it gets us nowhere. We are caught in a play of many acts, and all must be seen out. We are passed from one sales person to the next. I get told I am only the second person who does not like the place.  My sister says she does not like caged dolphins. We don’t mention the fake  Mexican Village. That is just too painful. Hours later we are let go, but not without one last pitch involving many black rectangles drawn on paper showing for just a thousand or so a year, we could be part of this development, swimming with dolphins and having buffet breakfasts to die for. Having everything we could ever desire.

There is some truth in that if we can afford a vacation, we must be able to buy both Chiclets and time shares . We can fly easily across the border, even with my sister’s dog chewed passport. The sales people cannot. They press for us to buy, to help, for us to all share in the dream of doing better and having more. And, none can seem to really believe it is not what we want, this dream of being in Dubai which is really the dream of being on any desert that now is anything else you want  it to be because there is lots of money.

We escape, and drive to an actual Mexican fishing village up the coast. We get a table on the sand and order guacamole and chips and I get some skewers of shrimp from a passing vendor.. Children come to our table offering small stuffed animals. My sister buys one. Then she buys some coconut macaroons. We are happy and relieved to be buying things we understand and can taste and touch.

I write this back at my Villa del Palmar, on my beach chair. My brother-in-law watched the news last night and we learned about the big storm hitting  the Northwest coast and the escalation in the Middle East. Who knows what will stay and what will remain in the coming decade.

I look around, feel the ocean breeze and the waves lappng the sand just a few feet from me. Life is so sweet as it is. I am grateful to be here. Now.  And happy to have exactly what I have. Which is a lot and more than most. My heart stretches in thanks.