Woke up: La Paz de Huanacaxtle, Bandares Bay, Nayarit, Mexico
Went to sleep: La Paz de Huanacaxtle, Bandares Bay, Nayarit, Mexico
In January I was too downtrodden to post to my blog and now I’m too busy! What a difference 100 miles can make.
We have been anchored in the anchorage outside Marina Riviera Nayarit for two weeks and I am lovin’ it.
Most mornings, I jump out of bed at 6:30 am, get dressed, wash my face, brush my teeth, and pack my stuff. At the same time, Peter gets the dinghy (my chariot) ready for me to leave. By 7:30 am I am out the door. Often I pick up my friend, Deanna, from Speakeasy and we motor into the marina together. Yoga starts at 8:00 am.
It has felt so good to have a regular yoga practice again. My bones, muscles, tendons and ligaments thank me.
I’ve been asked to teach the class next Tuesday and Thursday. Suddenly, I have a good reason to review my teacher training and develop a 90 minute sequence.
Somedays, Dee and I let our exercise compulsion get the best of us and we follow up yoga with Zumba.
It’s interesting, the way organized exercise classes have developed over the years. Jane Fonda kicked us off with leg warmers and high impact aerobics. When high impact proved physically damaging, they invented low impact. Soon we branched out with Step, Kick Boxing, Spin Classes, Body Pump® and now Zumba which is very similar to Low Impact with salsa music and fancy dance steps thrown in.
It’s true. The anchorage is a bit rockier than the anchorage in Tenacatita but, for me, the trade- off is worth it.
The Writers’ Group meets each Saturday. Ten to fifteen women, and usually at least one man, meet in the very comfortable VIP lounge to review each other’s writing and have a sometimes lively discussion. What better way to spend two hours on Saturday morning?
I dress in my Sunday best for the Market. I go early and plan to stay all day. Many, many vendors bring their products to share and to sell. Music starts at 11:00 am. Some days, after my feet are killing me, I simply sit on the bench listening to the music and watching the kids play and the people meander.
Deanna and I have taken the colectivo into Puerto Vallarta for shopping at Sam’s Club, Walmart, the Soriano and Chedarue. We pay 10 pesos to get there and share the cost of a cab, usually 150 pesos, to bring both of us and all of our groceries back.
Movie Night is like going to the drive in. The movie plays at dark. We sit on the concrete steps of the amphitheater and watch a film projected onto an old sail. The concession stand is open for business offering popcorn, pop, beer, sandwiches, and candy bars. The boats of the marina, home in their slips, can be seen resting quietly in the background. Last night was cool and we covered up with a blanket.
Each afternoon, Peter snags little sardines with a treble hook. Using the live bait, he’ll hook a 20 – 30 pound Jack in less than five seconds. He jumps into the dinghy and lets the fish drag him all over the bay. Once the fish tires, Peter pulls it to the dinghy and lets it go. The other people in the anchorage (there are about 35 boats here) think this is pretty good entertainment.
Several times each week we have met other cruisers for street tacos. We walk together, four blocks from the marina to town and choose from several family owned operations. Usually the entire family is involved cooking and serving tacos, burritos and casadeas from the kitchen of their home while watching their favorite TV show in the background.
This authentic Mexican fare is delicious and Mexican culture is muy casual; everyone brings their own beer or wine to the table. It’s so tasty we end up saying, “Tres mas, por favor!” Peter and I can eat tacos and casadeas until we’re bursting at the seams, all for under 200 pesos.
It’s easy to see I thrive on community and activity. Walking to the local tienda for a sack of potatoes, I stop to visit with no less than 20 people I know. A few errands can take a very long time. Back at the dock, I load our dinghy with my yoga mat, shower bag and whatever crackers, cookies and other provisions I deemed necessary. I fire up the one-pull-Yamaha and glide out of the marina. With the kill chord around my wrist, I bring the little boat up on plane and race through the anchorage to Penelope patiently bobbing in the swell.