March

Blogging once a month is a fantastic way to go! That way I never have to think up a post title.

March was reasonably eventful. We didn't go anywhere February so it was high time we hit the road again. Off to BC we went for five days. Carrie's grandparents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary, an event we didn't want to miss. We spent our time as expected, visiting with family and friends and relaxing a wee bit.

Last week Carrie had a conference in Washington, DC. I couldn't decide whether to tag along or not, but she convinced me to go in the end. We'd kept an eye out for cheap flights, but with only a few days to go the options were severely limited, so we just got my flight using Airmiles.

We enjoyed five-star accommodations; it's always nice but I'm not convinced I'd ever want to pay for the extra you're getting: bigger room, comfier pillows, fancier bathroom... There wasn't even a coffee maker in the room! You'd think they'd at least do that to save us the trip downstairs where the free drinks are.



The hotel wasn't exactly close to the main tourist attractions, but a walk to the White House was under 15 minutes, so that was manageable.

Speaking of which, here it is... complete with a nice Suburban parked in front. Now that's a home!


The back yard is fairly big. What do you mean, I should be on the outside of the fence?!


The little angry men on the roof are ample reason not to scale the fence. I imagine they're itching for some action.


Just south of the White House is the National Mall. No, it's not a place to shop; it's a park that's two miles long, lined with memorials and museums and stuff... so rather central to tourism.

On the west end is the Lincoln Memorial. You might notice they borrowed architectural themes from ancient Greece and Rome.


Mr. Lincoln inside, forever lounging in his chair.


Looking east from the Lincoln Memorial. One of the only successful self-portraits of the trip.


Nearby is the Jefferson Memorial. (Yes, there are many memorials to many presidents in DC.)



The Washington Monument is near the centre of the Mall. By far the tallest structure in the city, it showed up in surprisingly many photos. There's an observation level at the top, but to go up you first need stand in line for a ticket, which -- if you manage you get one (they're in limited supply) -- indicates what time you get to go up. A whole lot of hassle and far too much time management for my liking.


Near the centre of the Mall strip, there's the main building of the Smithsonian, which is a whole slew of free museums and stuff for the touristy types. This main building is called the Castle. It looks purdy, but the city in general wasn't so colourful yet. The cherry blossom festival started that weekend, but we there wasn't much in bloom quite yet.


At the east end of the Mall is the Capitol building. Scads of student groups were taking tours there (well, pretty everywhere all the time) so that discouraged me from doing the same.


I went to the nearby Library of Congress instead, which has all sorts of exhibits to take in, including a large collection of Thomas Jefferson's personal library. I ventured to the National Archives, but the line-up there was too long, simply because of people waiting to see the Declaration of Independence that's on display there.

The concierge at the hotel had suggested that I check out the Old Post Office, which is currently a shopping/office complex that still has an old clock tower. The view from the tower is the second highest in the city, which was good enough for me. I got a shot of the Washington Monument, with the Pentagon in the background to its left (you'll see it if you click on the picture).


I had hoped to sneak into the FBI building, but the visitor centre was temporarily closed, so I had to settle for a walk-by. Perhaps my walking around the building twice got their attention, but that wasn't enough for an invitation inside.


One day I walked over to Arlington National Cemetery; just across the river in Virginia, it turned out to be quite a hike. Over 600 acres in size, this place is a maze of roads, paths, memorials and gravestones. There are an average of 27 funerals per day here. While I was there I heard at least two 21-gun salutes off in the distance.



A few key spots are major attractions such as JFK's tomb and memorial, the latter of which displays a number of his quotes.


Another day I went to the Pentagon, also in Virginia. I wanted to jump in a cab and say "The Pentagon!" because, well, how often does one get to do that? But taking the subway was cheaper, so I did that instead. Right at the Pentagon station there is a photography ban in effect. I walked around the perimeter a bit, even walked away a bit, but the "no photos" signs didn't go away. But then there was the 9/11 memorial site; photos are permitted there, so I took a shot of the memorial/building from there. Not that there's much to see anyway; so close up, all you get is a boring shot of one side of the building.


I saw more, and we went out for expensive dinners and whatnot, but if I don't wrap up this post now it'll never get done.

February

Where's the year going? Maybe it's just me but it seems to be flying by.

This month we went to the symphony twice. Once was for Beethoven's Missa solemnis, which is a wonderful choral piece. Unfortunately we must not have been in the mood to stay out late. First they played one of Beethoven's string quartets which (in my opinion) was a real snoozer; and they really shouldn't have included that piece because the evening was long enough.

The mass setting is 1hr 20min in length but the program had a typo and said 20 minutes. Being somewhat familiar with the Missa solemnis I figured 20min couldn't be the full thing... maybe it was just excerpts? But no, after a 20-minute string quartet and then a 15-minute intermission, we got to sit for another 100 minutes. Not that I mind a long choral piece. But then I made the mistake of following along with the provided lyrics in Latin. Well that's just depressing when you want to see progress; a three-line verse can take literally 10 minutes to sing; as they say, repetition is the mother of all yawning.

So I've reconfirmed that I don't like knowing or following the lyrics to a song, or my level of enjoyment plummets severely. Odd, perhaps, but that's how it is.

Hmm, what else? I like to buy a new computer every five years, so I went ahead and bought one (boring details here). My old one gets pushed aside, and my older one has to disappear because Carrie doesn't want me having more than two computers around :(.

Now I can play Solitaire twice as fast!

We're leaving for BC in about two hours. Carrie's grandparents are celebrating their 60th anniversary so that's a big event we don't want to miss. I was looking at the dog on Monday and suddenly realized we hadn't made arrangements for her yet... oops! Fortunately our usual sitters came through for us, so we owe them one (or several by now).

Winter "camping"

A few months ago a friend of mine decided to organize a few nights of winter camping. He entered a draw for one of the handful of shelters in Gatineau Park and, fortunately, landed one. Of course, real winter camping involves tents and frozen body parts; it turned out not to be quite like that...

Last weekend on Thursday afternoon, seven guys headed up to the welcome centre in Gatineau Park. Four of us were locals, three from out of town. The plan had initially been to do some snowshoeing to and around the shelter, but there had been no new snow to speak of since the last melt who knows how long ago. Basically, the snow conditions sucked. That afternoon it did start snowing and blowing, creating near white-out conditions during the drive, so there was some hope.

I had hoped not to rent snowshoes, but since most of the others had their own or rentals and were planning to use them, I broke down and rented some in the park.

We drove a ways north along the edge of the park (which is 360 square km, or 90,000 acres) to one of many parking lots. From there we would snowshoe along designated snowshoe trails (the skiers don't like us messing up their trails).

So I try to strap on my snowshoes and... of course they don't fit. The straps don't reach around my gargantuan boots. So I swap with someone who has different bindings. They sort of fit.

The hike in was just over 2km, a narrow hilly trail through the trees. Trees were good, since out in the open the wind made things rather chilly. At various points some people's snowshoes fell off, which was hardly a problem as there wasn't any snow accumulating and the old snow was packed hard.

Starting down the trail, which began in the open but headed into the trees.


We arrived at our accommodations. We had been expecting a yurt, which is just a simple shelter with wood heating. What we got was a few dozen steps up the luxury ladder.

Brown Cabin


It was a veritable mansion! Electricity, fridge, stove, lighting, electronic keypad access, the works. Or almost the works: the only reason we might claim we were roughing was the lack of indoor plumbing. No running water, and the outhouse was just outside beside the wood shed.

Inside, the place was a well-made wooden structure with a vaulted ceiling. One half was a common room and kitchen, and the other half was sleeping quarters.

Common room with wood stove at one end and kitchen entrance at the other.



Bunk beds for the weary.


The place could sleep 17. At the far end beside the kitchen was an actual bedroom; this is where we locked our loudest snorer each night so the rest of us could get some shut-eye.

There was electric heat in the place, but it was permanently set to about 10 degrees. That was fine, because there was plenty of dry firewood outside, complete with an axe and lots of newspaper. We used the wood stove constantly, both for heating and for cooking.

We realized we'd hauled far too much stuff to the site. Griddles and gas stoves weren't required since we could use both the kitchen range and the wood stove; extra axes weren't needed; extra warm sleeping bags weren't necessary either. There were even cutlery, utensils and pans available in the kitchen.

Everybody helped bring a ton of food, so we feasted like kings. The first night we had boerenkool with sausage.

Friday morning most of us headed back to the parking lot to get some more food from one of the vehicles and to meet up with an eighth fellow, who'd had to work late the previous night. We dispensed with the snowshoes and trudged along in -25 degree weather. Or something like that; the thermometer registered well below -20 before the sun hit it, but then there was a bit of wind chill.

Partway there, someone realized that we didn't have the truck keys. Our fearless organizer hustled back while the rest of us continued. Hustling in such cold weather is taxing indeed, and one's own breath can be cruel. If you cover part of your face, an inch or so above where that covering ends, your breath escapes and freezes. In this guy's case, he had most of his face covered, so he ended up with very purdy eyelashes.


This baleful fellow's beard kept going white.


After returning to the cabin and polishing off a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast, we prepared for the day's hike.

This guy wanted proof for his wife that he spent time in the kitchen.


The route we planned to do was somewhere between 12km and 15km. We didn't bother with snowshoes since those things slow you down in the absence of deep snow.

It was a ton of walking. Out in the open, the wind was biting and we had to be careful to cover up. The snow was plentiful in some places, and while it often held one's weight, the odd time we'd break through the crust and have an awkward time of it. If someone couldn't go on, we'd bury him in a few inches of snow and keep moving.


For the most part we stayed on marked trails, which meant spotting trail markers if possible. Fortunately it was a beautiful clear day and we didn't get lost.


We stopped for lunch at a designated fire pit stocked with wood. The fire was more of a smoky exercise than a roaring success; lunch consisted of snacks and soup heated on a gas range someone had brought along.


On the return trip, we split into two groups, to have a bit of a race; one group would follow the same trail back to the cabin, while the other would break trail and go the other way around two lakes we'd been skirting. I was in the second group, and we barrelled along at a good clip. It wasn't always obvious where the lake ended and the shore began, so after a few less-than-confident minutes closely following the shoreline, we headed inland. This didn't help too much, as there was a lot of marshland in the way; to steer around all of it would have cost too much time. So we picked our way through and made good time. I led most of the way, in part to test for weak ice. I went through a couple of times but my combination of boots and snowsuit kept me dry.

We worked up a good sweat, but it still rather cold out. One guy's nose was partially an unhealthy white, so he made sure to cover it up to prevent frostbite.

We were within sight of the cabin when another guy broke through. He got a good soaker, but it hardly mattered; he actually ran the last bit and we were back to a relatively warm cabin shortly. We'd won; the wood stove fire had died down and needed work, but it was certainly nice to be indoors again.

The other group arrived 15 minutes later. One of them had also gotten a soaker, and it had happened early on; but without dry clothes or a way to warm up, they'd seen fit to just carry on.

The losers of that race were supposed to run around the outside of the cabin shirtless, but regrettably none of them did so. A couple of the winners did for some reason, so we were entertained anyway. Still, what a shame.

We had pasta for dinner and rested our weary bones that evening.

Saturday morning we cleaned up and trekked back out of the woods to the parking lot. I dropped off the rental snowshoes that hadn't fit me, and they didn't charge me for them.

We may have to do some fall camping next time, perhaps a canoe trip in Algonquin Park. We shall see...

Ixtapa, Mexico

Buenos dias! We're back from a relaxing trip to Mexico, and now for the least fun part: blogging about it. Grumble grumble.

The Travels

We booked direct flights between Toronto and Zihuatanejo, which was very nice... no stopping in the US for a full-body search. The flight there was 5.5 hours; we drove to Toronto and stayed overnight with some friends, flying out at 8:00am. Unfortunately I had the world's biggest headache all day, which was the one thing I'd been dreading about the trip: a headache's least favourite friends are stuffy airplane air and 30-degree weather. Which was the approximate temperature when we landed... ugh!

The airport is outside of Zihuatanejo (Zihua for short), which is a town of 110,000 not far from the resort town of Ixtapa. According to Wikipedia, Ixtapa's population is around 6,000 but it offers about 5,000 accommodation rooms in its various resorts and hotels. So tourism is a rather substantial industry in these parts.

Upon clearing customs, we paid for a colectivo, which is a taxi you share with other people to save some money. The rate was 240 pesos for the two of us, whereas a regular taxi would have been 360. (One dollar was about 12 pesos during our stay.) Cheap Dutchmen! Since the colectivo tends to be a nine-seater Suburban, the driver prefers to fill the beast with people before driving away. Since we and another couple were the only ones waiting for our particular cab, they didn't want to leave with only four passengers. We got the runaround for 40 minutes before finally convincing them that they could have been gone and back in that time. We finally drove off, with still only four passengers (a different couple than the initial one).

Anyway, what a rip-off! $20 for a 20-minute ride in a country that's supposed to be inexpensive! It's actually much less to get back to the airport, but going from there you're at their mercy.

It was cloudy when we arrived; in fact, it had rained the day or two before. This is highly unusual, as rain is generally not expected at all between November and May.

The Resort

We met up with Carrie's parents who were already a week into their stay. We stayed at a resort in Ixtapa called Pacifica; the resort is on a hillside at the end of a long crescent-shaped beach. The view from our 4th-floor studio room was spectacular, perhaps better than from Mom & Dad's room which was a floor lower. The only problem with our view was that the gondola cables ended up in nearly every picture!

Part of the resort covering the hillside at the end of the beach.


The gondola runs up the hill and has three stations, providing easy access to the beach for guests living up on the hill. The gondola went right by our corner unit, and although thankfully the gondola was dead silent, its cables did tend to mar our attempts of a perfect beach photo.

Our unit was high enough to provide a great view, but at the same time our building was the closest to the beach. Many of the other 40 buildings on the resort were not so conveniently close, so we had the best of both worlds. To the resort's credit, it provided 24-hour shuttle service to and from anywhere on the (very hilly and very extensive) grounds. Throughout the week we would make good use of this service to reach the main road where we could flag down a bus or cab.

The view from our balcony.


We weren't doing an all-inclusive. That tends to cost over $50 per person per day, and unless you plan to drink all day and all night, it's a whole lot cheaper to just go to the grocery store and buy unprepared food there. Of course, it helps to have a kitchen, which our unit did.

The room. Being on the top floor, it had a nice vaulted ceiling.


On the beach were chairs and palapas (open-sided shelters). There we could hang out and order drinks, which we could charge to our rooms. Or, if we felt cheap, we could smuggle our own drinks down instead.

Typical beach scenario: palapas and lots of lounging chairs.


Since my sisters are obsessed with seeing this gringo's sexy white legs, voilà!. They'll be happy to know I spent most of my time in shorts and in the sun.


The resort has gyms and restaurants and a bunch of pools. We didn't use much of anything; since the ocean was warmer than the pools, I think I jumped into a pool only once.

This infinity pool was nicer to photograph than to jump into.


There were various animals to enjoy. Iguanas, parrots, turtles, herons, penned crocodiles... Feeding time for the crocs was at 3pm every day. We missed or forgot or didn't bother every day for a week. One day we went a little late and there were actually 3 up close on land with 4 more visible in the water, but of course I didn't have my camera on hand. Oh well, I done seen 'em.





The First Days

Saturday was spent just relaxing and walking to the market in Ixtapa. There we warded off vendors whilst wending our way through a maze of tiny booths crammed with unpriced trinkets. I still have "Good price amigo!" ringing in my ears. Fortunately I wasn't looking to buy any souvenirs or other useless crap so we emerged unscathed.

We also enjoyed our first Mexican sunset. It had rained a day or two before, which is horribly unseasonal, but the remaining clouds made for some nice views across the water.





On Sunday we went to a local English-speaking church that is popular among Canadian and American tourists. There was a guest minister that day whose English wasn't so great, so we heard a decent message on the traits of Joshua, via a translator.

Later we had lunch with some friends from church. I don't generally eat seafood, but when in Rome...


I dug into the crab, lobster, fish, whatever else. The ceviche wasn't so appetizing (sea food pickled in a citrus-based mixture, rather than cooked), but the octopus was worth trying.


Instead of taking the bus "home", Carrie and I got a ride back with friends. They gave a nice little driving tour of the area.

Palm tree forest!


Resort town streets versus rural town streets.


On Monday we went with Mom and Dad to get groceries. We headed to a big Superstore-type place in Zihua, which seems to be where all the white people shop. Getting there by bus was simple: stand at the side of the main road and wave or twitch when a rickety bus comes along. It screeches to a halt wherever you happen to be, and you hop on for a measly 8 pesos (65 cents). (Watch out that you don't twitch when a cab is in the vicinity, or one or more will pull up at your service. If you don't twitch, they'll actually honk to let you know they're there.)

With a couple hundred bucks in groceries and liquor, we didn't want to take the bus back. No problem; a handful of cabs waited outside the store for folks like us. We looked at our stack of goods, then looked at the cab. Almost every cab is a white Nissan Sentra with a squeaky suspension. We didn't like the idea of cramming into one of those, but after a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to convince them that we needed something mas grande, we gave in. It wasn't so bad after all (although I wasn't squished into the back seat), and for $5 we made it back to the resort.

Besides some inevitable beach time, Dad, Carrie and I went kayaking in the afternoon. Kayaks were free to use and the water is generally quite calm once you make it past the surf when pushing off. It was a tiring but very pleasant outing... even when Dad splashed me with a paddle, and when I tried to retaliate I ended up in the drink; fortunately I didn't attract any predatory sea life, and it was easy enough to clamber back into my open-topped kayak.

The Episode

Blood dripped slowly from her right ear onto her blouse. What had just happened? She felt dazed, and her ears were ringing. Shaking her head to focus, she looked at her husband lying on the path in front of her; he was moaning and clutching his side, obviously in tremendous pain.

Sylvie forgot her own misery and knelt beside the man, wondering what she could do to help him. She had no phone or first aid supplies, and Ghislain needed help fast...

---

The day had started out as any other. The couple were staying at an RV park near Zihua; they and a number of friends had driven all the way down from Montreal with their fifth wheels, having arrived a few days ago.

This morning, Ghislain and Sylvie had put their bicycles in the back of the pickup truck and driven into Ixtapa, from where they planned to bike along a popular paved trail through an ecological reserve to a beach called Playa Linda. And off they pedalled...

---

Meanwhile, a few kilometres down the path inside the reserve, a couple of idiot kids had plans of their own. The nature reserve was heavily forested, and the path running through it had many turns that hid one section from the next. The boys found a perfect ambush spot at one such turn, where a narrow dirt trail led off the bike path into the bushes. They were all set for the morning's activities: handkerchiefs over their faces, hats low over their eyes, and .22 rifles in hand.

They put their plan into action. As a group came along, the gun-toting lads would jump out of the bushes, prod the victims down the dirt trail into the bushes, relieve them of any valuables, and force them to stay still. When the next cyclists came along, the procedure was repeated, adding to the group of victims hidden away.

The first groups of victims that morning were a young Mexican family, a young local couple, and three long-time American tourists. Cell phones, a camera and an iPod were among the items stolen. The thieves also let the air out of a few bike tires to hamper eventual attempts to get help.

The last victims were a couple from Montreal...

---

Ghislain and Sylvie were enjoying their bike ride, despite the rising temperature. Upon entering the nature reserve, they had seen a sign indicating what kinds of bird and other wildlife they might encounter. They were almost halfway through the reserve, and there hadn't much to see yet. Maybe around the next corner...

As they came around a bend in the path, two wild-eyed teenagers suddenly sprang out of the shrubbery to block them! The kids yelled something in Spanish, dancing around excitedly, and they were pointing rifles at the cyclists. Ghislain had heard the occasional story of tourists being intimidated by would-be assailants; the rule on the road was that you didn't stop. This wasn't exactly a road, but at any rate he whispered fiercely to Sylvie, who was already slowing down, "Don't stop, just ignore them!" They put their heads down and laboured on the pedals, avoiding eye contact with the jumpy kids.

The idiots didn't like it at all and responded with force. Ghislain was pretty well on top of the first kid, who jammed his rifle barrel into Ghislain's rib cage and fired point-blank. The man didn't fall immediately but maintained his balance and went on down the path a few metres, with the kid chasing him; he toppled shortly after, scraping his knee in the process.

The second kid effectively stopped Sylvie, although with her husband down she had no choice but to stick around.

---

Tuesday morning, Dad, Carrie and I went on a bike tour. The resort provided bike tours twice daily; seven guests had signed up for this morning's tour but we were the only ones to show up when our resort's tour guide was ready to leave.

We donned uncomfy helmets and unhip traffic vests, picked the best bikes from the selection available, and started on our way. Our guide took us through the town of Ixtapa, along nice paved paths that eventually led us away from town. Upon arriving at the entrance of an ecological reserve, we took a short break and discussed the wildlife we might spot in the next while.

About 2.5km in, we came upon them mere minutes after the robberies. The Mexican family was walking away, already a ways down the path; one of the three Americans was trying to cycle away for help, despite his front tire being deflated. Ghislain was lying on the pavement, with Sylvie hovering over him.



At first we figured someone may have just fallen off a bike, but slowly on we learned what happened. The two remaining American were more mad than scared, having lost some electronics to the robbers; I chatted them up while Dad helped get Ghislain more comfortable, Carrie got details from Sylvie (who hardly spoke English) and our guide (who carried a radio) tried to call for help.

Ghislain had been shot in the side; the bullet had grazed a rib but had not come out the back. The entry wound wasn't bleeding, and there was a big blue welt in the back. The Americans told me the gunshot sounded like a cap gun, so we initially thought it was just a pellet gun or BB gun wound. (We later learned it had been a .22; they're not particularly loud, and I imagine the fact that it was point-blank would have muffled the sound somewhat.)

Sylvie kept asking for a serviette. We had noticed blood on her ear and shirt but didn't know she was hurt. It seems that the second kid either shot her through the ear cartilage or hit her, when she didn't stop her bike. The robbers had taken off into the bushes when things got out of control, leaving a group of shaken victims minus some loot.

Sylvie was very calm and composed (and very likely in a bit of shock), mostly ignoring her own injury.

The two remaining Americans got tired of waiting for their friend to return and left shortly before help arrived. They had to walk, as their tires had been deflated.

It was 3km to either Playa Linda or Ixtapa. We have an inkling of how Mexican time works but this was ridiculous. It was well over a half hour before an ambulance made its way to our location, after which the state and municipal police also arrived in full force. A reporter accompanied them, taking notes and photos as the cops interviewed people.





Had this couple cooperated with the robbers, we would have been next. Had we not stopped at the edge of the reserve, who knows? Had we.. etc, etc. We're thankful that we weren't among the victims, and now we know to travel a little lighter than we usually do (pockets full of cash, cards, cameras).

We decided we might as well cancel our bike tour, so we headed back to the resort.

After lunch Dad and I decided to explore the rocky end of the beach. With completely inappropriate footwear we headed off to see what there was to see.

Looks inviting, no?


Dusty and rocky, with scraggly cacti and way too hot sun.


Saw tons of crabs skittering along. They're pretty quick.


Side note: there you have it. Proof that I've subjected my pasty body to the sun's evil rays. And that I wore shorts! Is it just me, or does that cactus makes me look positively fat? Just me huh? Fine.


Dad is quite the mountain goat.


So this is what we found. More beach and more resorts. Looks purdy though.


Towards evening we all took a walk down the beach to enjoy the sunset. I snapped literally hundreds of shots, confident that one or two would turn out nicely.

A sunset sailing cruise. Why take it when you can enjoy the sunset from the beach?


Mom & Dad. Awwwww...


Carrie sans photographer (me). Hmmmmm...


Wednesday

On Wednesday morning Carrie and Dad joined the snorkeling tour offered by the resort. Snorkelling doesn't interest me much, although if we'd stayed a few more weeks I might have been goaded into going once.



Meanwhile Mom and I wrestled with the wireless Internet situation. She had taken her laptop so she could get some work done. The resort offers wireless Internet, but reliability isn't 100%; on top of that, the building are all concrete, so signals don't canvas the area like they might with mere wood structure in the way. If that wasn't enough, the built-in card in the laptop actually died, so we had to source a USB wireless card. We still had lots of trouble, with the best results had by heading to a hotspot centre and plunking down beside a router. Not so convenient.

In the afternoon we headed to La Ropa beach. We first went to look for Ghislain and Sylvie, who'd given us some contact info the day before. They weren't at the RV park; a neighbour told us they hadn't spent the night in the hospital but had gone this morning to get the wounds looked at. We left a note and headed to the beach.

We passed some guys shucking freshly caught oysters. For reasons unknown, Carrie and Dad found them appealing and bought a bunch. They squeezed lime juice onto them and slurped the raw stuff down as Mom and I watched trying not to gag.

Wrong, just plain wrong.


Somewhere along the beach we found a restaurant that had been recommended, La Perla. We stopped there for nice sunset dinner.

Waiting for mahi-mahi and more. Note my gargantuan drink... lasted all night.


Dessert was fried ice cream with a fantastic coconut coating. Scrumptious!


Come sunset, we had the best seats in the house.


After dinner, we headed back to Ixtapa. The ladies went back to the resort, while Dad and I went into town with a mission: we'd been told there were three local papers and, having seen the reporter at yesterday's scene, we wanted to see articles written about the robbery. (On top of that, on the cab ride to the beach this morning I'd seen one of the newspapers on the dashboard of the cab; I'd convinced the cabbie to give me the paper, but now we wanted two copies.)

We asked around and checked a number of stores before finding one of the daily papers, of which we bought two copies. The second paper, of which I'd gotten a copy from that cab driver, proved more difficult to find; Dad had the bright idea of locating one of the local booth vendors in the market whom he'd met. We asked him whether he could find a copy of the paper, so he told us to stay put; within five minutes he was back with a paper. I was so impressed that I bought a hat from him as a souvenir (he refused to just be paid for his running around for us); He wanted way too much, but we talked him down and then I convinced him to take Canadian dollars. Mission accomplished! (We never found evidence of a third daily newspaper; maybe there were ever only two dailies.)

The Last Days

Thursday was a relaxing day, spent strolling and tanning and swimming and window shopping. I like not always being busy doing stuff when on holidays. Slow days are welcome; we are on vacation, after all!

On Friday, Dad and Carrie went snorkelling again; they'd tried on Thursday, but the guy who had access to all the equipment never showed up (turns out he was off sick). I walked to the nearest golf course to find a score card for a certain collector friend back home. Then of course more beach time. By this point I was still far too white, so I dispensed with the sunscreen and set out to become crispy; it worked like a charm, so now parts of me are well cooked. Actually, those parts looked burnt for a day or two, but now there's no sign of burnage on me; either it has turned into tan or I'm back to my former pasty self.

We were convinced to try a nice expensive restaurant on a romantic beach setting that evening. So the two of us went to La Cala, a restaurant (paired with a hotel) in a very out-of-the-way spot, which cab ride there really tried the suspicious imagination. But we weren't dead or robbed by the time we got there, so we proceeded to enjoy ourselves.

We got there just when it opened at 6pm and were seated down at the water. Every time a wave rolled in and then swept back out, a million smooth pebbles would cascade down and make the most amazing sound. I can't explain it so you'll have to imagine or go hear for yourself.

Carrie enjoying a front-row seat.


Ooh, I finally learned to do proper night shots! What better way to spend a romantic dinner with one's wife than to fiddle with the camera?


Dinner's ready! Rabbit for me, seafood for her.



One of very few shots of the two of us.


On Saturday we got ready to leave and then enjoyed a leisurely breakfast buffet on the beach. The flight home was just over four hours, making it shorter than a trip to BC! Would we go back? Sure; now we know to travel light and to cooperate with dudes with guns. We're back, we're rested, and now I'm off winter camping with some guys in about an hour. Why should the fun end?