Body Surfing.. The Sequel

After a couple of months trying to convince himself and everyone else that he was FINE DAMMIT, Gerry finally relented and saw a physician about his shoulder. With the help of such wonderful diagnostic machines as the MRI (guaranteed to cause "get me the hell outta here" claustrophobia in even the most stable of folks) my aspiring surfer husband found his body surfing adventure had resulted in three severely torn rotary cuff tendons. This revelation was followed by surgery, a week of excruciating pain and all you can eat oxycontin. On the up side he got to pretend he was a recovering NFL player when we rented the cool psuedo- sporty Game Ready Ice and Compression Machine. He was finally able to hire a lawn service! And he was put on the injury list for dish washing duty for a couple of months. He has been a pretty good sport though as you can see from the photo. The other night at the San Dune Pub in Manzanita, Oregon I whined about us not getting to dance. He came back with a defensive "oh yeah??" and pulled me out onto the dance floor. After the song, the band leader remarked wryly, " C'mon folks.. if a ONE armed guy can dance...EVERYone get out there!" Shrug. Maybe the singer mistakenly thought the massive black sling was some kind of prosthetic device. So just remember gang, when the waves are too big, the break too short and your logic goes out the window you TOO can have this kind of summer fun - it lasts and lasts...

Rants, Raves and Lessons on Staying in the Present

It has been roughly a month since we returned from Zihuatanejo. After having a few weeks to regroup, there are a few things that still warrant mentioning. Always top of the list are the restaurants. I have to admit I'm getting a bit tired of eatery posts. More often than not these days there is a trend among trip reports in which the primary focus is eating. A typical report goes something like this: "Monday we went out to eat at Restaurant X and ordered grilled Y with Z sauce. It was excellent and cost only (fill in the blank) dollars/pesos/euros/yen! The waiter was blasted slow and we about died of hunger but the place was packed so we understood. Tuesday we went to... " And on and on for about nine long paragraphs. Sigh. Why don't they just stay home and go out to dinner every night?! It would save them a lot of time and money. With that said here are a FEW Zih restaurants that we tried for the first time this year that are noteworthy...

Worth a Repeat Restaurant - Cafe Mandarino: This cozy cafe is located across from the church on Calle Cinco De Mayo. Their culinary niche is a varied offering of yummy filled crepes. The dinner crepes are quite large and filled generously with your choice of everything from Mexican to French fillings. In fact, the only regret about this place is that we were so full we weren't able to work our way through the dessert crepes. Crepes may not be traditionally Mexican but it was a nice change.

Cleanest Restaurant - Neuva Zealanda: We only ate breakfast here but their sparkling floors, tidy cafe counter and pristine bathrooms inspired confidence in their food. Even their menus were unsmudged! Fairly priced meals, standard Mexican menu and decent portions.
Calle Cuauhtemoc #23

Craziest Restaurant with Great Food - Angelos Pizza:
Whew! This place is something out of a Fellini film.

The Cast:

• A screaming, raging, pan-banging Italian chef

• A dreamy sweet faced waiter serenely taking orders and trying to retain calm

• A sea of impatient customers unwittingly adding to the tension by their constant neck craning in the direction of the kitchen.

• Us.. as.. well.. ourselves!

The scene: waiters fired..waiters re-hired..a fire juggler tossing torches just inches from the tables... Wine corks popping.. pasta slurping...too many customers.. not enough staff... loud background music ...Exciting Pandemonium!

When we visited we were seated promptly and after ordering, sipped on excellent and inexpensive wine. Eventually it was impossible to ignore the barrage of outraged screams coming from the kitchen. Coupled with this cacophony was a seemingly endless parade of the chef's friends who wandered by calling out enthusiastic greetings in Italian. (who knew there were so many Italians in Zih?) The shouts, agonized cries and pot banging continued from behind the counter. We fidgeted and wondered if coming here was a terrible, terrible mistake. At last, from this real life 'Hells Kitchen' chaos, our pasta dishes emerged. Within seconds we knew! They were ALL delicious. Forks stabbed ferociously back and forth as we struggled to try a morsel of each other's dinner. At last satiated, we sipped our wine, sat back and enjoyed the atmosphere. Apparently the evening hadn't been exciting enough for him, because Gerry took advantage of our pasta induced reveries (and subsequent inattention) to interject himself into this mad house. The chef had been doling out a scathing, long and LOUD critique to our serene and unflappable waiter. The monologue seemed to revolve around the pros and cons of firing him.

At this point my husband entered the fray. God help you if you are in a discussion with my Irish 'Persuader'. He can go all ten rounds - talking at you.. over you.. twisting what you say.. bringing up random bits of evidence to support his case...Yes, Gerry can go on for hours. So as the debate raged, both men's voices became louder, faces turned redder, customers interrupted their homage to pasta and exchanged looks of alarm. As I was preparing to give Gerry a kick in the shins (my long standing marital signal for 'knock it off, blockhead!') a silence fell over the establishment. The chef nodded in resignation and as he slumped weakly into a chair he agreed to keep our saintly waiter on staff. I strolled over and briefly interviewed this mercurial restaurant owner. Found out he was from the south of Italy.. had been chef at many interesting establishments.. just your typical, amazingly talented, wild Italian chef! As we prepared to leave, the waiter glided by our table and baring his peaceful Buddah-like smile, he breathed a soft "Thank you..". For this quick tempered Gringa he was a walking sutra lesson.

So, although Angelos is not for everyone, this place served up an unforgettable evening of high drama, some unexpected inspiration and outstanding food! We will be back. At Pedro Ascencio and Agustin Ramirez

Zihua Videos

Well, the quality isnt all that great, but I recently uploaded some videos to You Tube from our trip to Zihuatanejo. Here is my You Tube Page.

My Other Brigadoon

For the last several decades I've been fortunate enough to enjoy our family beach house near Manzanita, Oregon. The house my parents built lies in the lee of the legendary Neahkahnie Mountain which, according to Oregon coastal Tribal traditions, is said to possess mystical powers and be home of the Great Spirit. Many mornings we have watched the mists and fog, like some witches brew, spill over the top of this oceanside peak and trickle down the slopes to meet the sea. Those that live in the mountain's shadow talk of feeling a sense of being in a hidden, otherworldly place of peace and contentment. Once, while sharing a glass of wine with a local resident of the area, Kate Johnstone, we discussed this phenomena. She nodded in agreement and remarked wistfully "This IS Brigadoon...". Now I believe I have found yet another Brigadoon; Zihuatanejo. In my own mind It certainly fits the definition - a place where time seems to stop, each visit feels as though you haven't aged a day and a sense of being removed and protected from stresses of the world. Oh, I know, my perception is perhaps the result of too much sun, cervesas and late night viewing of old Gene Kelly musicals but I truly feel I am somewhere 'else' when I am there. As I return from my most recent visit to Zih I am haunted by this altered sense of reality and joy that I experienced for a few short weeks.

Seduction Zih Style

So... this is your scenario. You are taking someone to Zihuatanejo. You plan to propose or you want to make like Liz and Dick with nights of sweaty, lusty embraces under a tropical moon. You don't know quite how to set the mood. You reason, maybe if she just drinks enough she will be overcome by passion! Unfortunately, chances are she will probably end up hanging over a Mexican porcelain throne and you will be running to the nearest pharmacia. No problemo amigo, I can help! I just spent an evening that had all the elements required to make your dreams come true. Now first let me say, I readily admit I'm a woman of a 'certain age'. Yes, despite my mini-skirts, blond highlights and penchant for wild adventures I am certainly not a young sweet thing easily given to weak knees and non-earned bodice ripping. I know full well what it is going to take to get from point A to a sometimes quite distant B. So, with that being said, let me go over your plan of action. First - reservations for 6:30 pm at La Cala Restaurante at Puerto Mio Hotel. The food, presentation and quality are decent enough, your typical 'continental' style menu - lots of shrimp, steaks, fancy schmancy sauces and big prices. The pay off here is ambiance. When I walked in and saw the dining area I literally gasped. Elegant table filled terraces edge down the hillside to a small punchbowl shaped grotto of boiling sea and pounding waves. We dined on the lower level and were so close to the ocean we literally felt a slight salt spray from the larger waves. (No worries! It only adds to the whole edgy-sexy-danger feel!) As twilight falls, young men scamper up the cliffs to light torches amongst the rocks. The waves crash.. the rocks clack and hiss.. the wine pours... the waiter discreetly hangs back and allows you to work your magic on your paramour. (I know.. I know.... the photo shows my husband and amigo Daniel... but work with me here ok!?) So back to YOU and your beloved. You are nearly there. She smiles and gives you a come hither look. But wait! You need to seal the deal and I know JUST the place... Zihua Blue Lounge.

This restaurant lounge is located on the road to Playa La Ropa on the first hill ascent near Hotel Irma. The taxis will know it. We walked up the stairs to the outdoor deck and saw a few tables, pretty lights, knockout view AND a scattering of beds! And not just any beds, but gorgeous four posters of somewhat unusual height were spaced about every 25 feet throughout the patio. (they even had darling little bed steps up to them) They all featured piles of plump pillows, cozy terry cloth coverings and white sheer curtains fluttering in the breeze. Waiters were casually shuttling back and forth as though people sipping cocktails on beds was the most natural thing in the world. Sexy jazz played on the sound system and stars twinkled overhead. I sprinted over to the nearest bed and clamored up. Of course our experience was complicated a bit by there being three of us so we got a few confused glances from the other couples around us. But we knew others would want to know about this place so we forged ahead. After one cocktail and a wry "why don't you guys find a room..." directed at us from one of the neighboring beds we decided the three of us sharing a 'bed' was taking on a certain scandalous quality. With that we paid the bill and left the other couples to their romantic interludes. But back to you! Take your sweetie to Zihua Blue for the perfect end to a wonderful evening in Zihuatanejo. The playful and unique quality of the lounge can't fail to impress anyone who happens to experience it. Just make sure the night isn't too breezy - the restaurant is set on a hill and can be a tad cool if it is very windy. After a night cap the rest is up to you... Go get her tiger!

Pics from Zihuatanejo

Only in Zihuatanejo...

Sometimes you see things here that make you do a double take. Like this sign advertising happy hour at a beach side restaurant called Rossy's. As a wine drinker I was quite happy to see they now encourage you to ask for the buckets... sounds good to me!








As we all know, it can be damned hot in this part of the world. But that shouldn't deter the biker who still wants to dress in his macho bad ass best. Leather in Zih? No problem... just get this little vesty version of a full jacket.

Here Chivo Chivo...

I'm not one for tours. Whenever I run upon one of those ant lines of camera packing visitors led by some guide with a booming voice and clip board I smugly congratulate myself on my esprit de travel. I tend to lump tour takers into two types - the blue haired walker set who have no other choice and those that haven't enough cajones to do it on their own. So it was with great reluctance and humility I allowed Gerry to arrange for a taxi tour of Petatlan and the surrounding area. We fell into the 'no other choice' group as Gerry's injured shoulder won't permit driving and there isn't a Mexican bus driver alive who would put up with my "BANO! NOW!" requirements. So this led us to Juan. He is a charismatic forty-three year old father of four who, over time, has developed his own unique area tour. We drove out of town in his tidy air conditioned taxi, as Juan quickly gave a short history of Zihuatanjo and excitedly pointed out businesses along the way. Although we pretty much knew what a propane factory looks like or what water bottling plants entail, under the spell of Juan's enthusiastic commentary they somehow took on a new and interesting importance. Over the course of the day, as Juan showed us again and again what he termed 'authentic Mexico' we gained an appreciation for the work and thought he put into making what became a very special experience for us.

He first took a detour into the small town of El Pozas, where we experienced the raging inferno of a brick factory kiln and were treated to Juan's cousin's hospitality and a tour of his many fruit and medicinal trees. We squealed wildly (well I did) over the many small herds of goats or chivos trotting happily through the village streets. I dreamily considered how goat ownership might work within our neighborhood rules and covenants. Such lovely little innocent animals I thought as I watched a young goat prance gaily by.. We drove up and down one after another of the unpaved but quaint streets. Everyone smiled, waved and greeted us. I sighed and soaked up this Disney-esque version of Mexico.

Now although I had specifically requested a stop at the Iquana Sanctuary on the road to Petatlan, Juan only nodded and made a vague remark about the 'Iguana Tree' as we edged back out onto Hwy 200. A short time later we turned onto the road to the Zihuatanejo Aeroporto and pulled into the parking lot of the small but immaculate Restaurante Emanual. As we exited the car I looked over to the parking area and trees behind the cafe. My jaw dropped as I saw Iguanas... Hundreds of Iguanas. Iguanas eating.. running.. Iguanas climbing.. draped over the branches of the trees.. screwing...basking... this was frickin' IGUANA HEAVEN. The proprietors of this cafe have taken it upon themselves to be the guardians of the Iguana and it is an official/unofficial Iguana protected zone. We ran back and forth taking as many pictures of Iguanas as we could possibly need in a life time. Juan simply smiled as we piled breathlessly back into the car and were on our way.

As we drove south to Petatlan, Juan cheerfully pointed out the preponderance of 'Sex Hotels'. These establishments rent out rooms on an hourly basis and even provide a curtained carport in which to discreetly park. We then passed the "real" iguana sanctuary sign but at this point my Iguana obsession was satiated so I felt no regrets as we roared by.

Once in town Juan showed us the Petatlan Church and I lit a candle in the adjacent grotto for my recently deceased Mother. After a few prayers and tears we breezed through the gold market and wandered the dark, cool aisles of the Petatlan Mercado. Juan eagerly pointed out chamomile, the ubiquitous butcher stalls, noni juice, Uruapan avacodos finally guiding us into the bright sunshine of the city's streets.

I blinked and surveyed stall after stall of taco counters or Taquerias. You could pull up a stool and feast on a variety of small but delicious looking tacos. One sweet little hand painted sign caught my eye. One of my dear little chivo friends was featured in profile... "CHIVO!" I exclaimed and smiled at Juan. He clapped his hands together and called out, "WANT ONE?!". The next thing I knew I was gazing in horror at a glistening pile of hot cooked meat nestled in a small corn tortilla. Juan looked at me encouragingly and with his great roar of a laugh said, "C'mon!!". This was a moment of truth for me. Was I the true traveler I claimed to be or simply one of the plebeian hoards with fanny packs, strict food guidelines and a ridiculous Heidi goatherder complex to boot? I opened my mouth, took one delicious bite and in seconds it was gone.

The rest of the day Juan drove us to many other out of the way destinations all of which seemed to be accessible only by unpaved rocky roads. Despite the bumps and dust we enjoyed every minute of this 'Anti-Tour Tour'. But rather than divulge any more details, I believe it is best to experience it for yourself. Give Juan a call - Juan Solis Millan - phone number 7551102630... Cab #275 in Zihuatanejo.