Molson Bike Tour (North): August 2010

The 2009 Molson Bike Tour rider of the year, Eddie P., decided to grace us with his presence tonight at Milford. Apparently the autographs and his stint on Big Brother had gone to his head and he was too good for us lowly Oakland-ers. Seriously though, Eddie was attending to the little league world, coaching tomorrow's Detroit Tigers (they are hurting right now) and word on the street indicates that his son Nick's team made it the championship game but unfortunately fell at the end. The dreaded feeling of the loss lasted about 10 minutes for the kids until they heard that Blizzards were on the house at the local Dairy Queen; then all was well in the world. Coach Eddie, however, felt the loss a little longer.

Welcome back Ed.

Trail Head

Yes, I did have goat tacos for breakfast one morning last week. And I must say, they were quite delicious. Nancy (the "el mejor" of tour guides) and I ventured down to Puerto Vallarta and Guadalajara to embrace Mexico and its culture. While I had a great time on my last visit to Mexico a few years back, the only thing I learned about the area on that trip was what drinks the all inclusive resort couldn't make.

We started the trip in the old town section of Puerto Vallarta. The cobblestone/brick streets were pretty cool as far as the mystique but if I lived in the area, an automobile shock/strut shop would be an ideal business to be in as the cars take quite a beating driving on them each day. Our hotel, the Hotel Posada de Roger, was about a block from the boardwalk and had the basics for our needs. For roughly $55/night, you couldn't go wrong. The sign for the hotel (pictured below) states "Hotel Posada de Roger, All People Welcome." I asked Nancy on the latter reference and found out that Puerto Vallarta is the San Francisco of Mexico, if you know what I mean; not that there's anything wrong with it. With that, Nancy had her gay-dar going as we would be somewhere and I'd hear, beep, beep, beep. She would nod toward a couple and low and behold, there they were.

It was not all Freddy Mercury viewing though as we took in a botanical garden just outside of town tucked in the Sierra Madre Mountains. The house dog, Nancy named her Miguella, followed us throughout our walk covering the roughly 20 or so acres of this pretty cool cluster of plants.

From the garden, we ventured down the road for dinner at Le Kliff, a cliff side restaurant overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The ambience is what the place is all about as the portions were fancy, but small. The cervezas were flowing so I worked around the lack of bird on my plate. For the most part though, I have to applaud myself on stepping outside of the box on the trip when it came to eating the local food. I am now hooked on salsa, especially when they make it fresh right at your table. I even had a meal with some funky green sauce on it that prior to the trip, I would have pushed way. It was quite delicious.

The boardwalk on Puerto Vallarta, while beautiful with the water and mountains surrounding the area, should be re-named Solicitor Avenue as you can't go 20 yards without a somebody pedaling some form of trinket/trash item at you. Looking at the glass half full angle though, at least they are making an attempt as opposed to some who just stick out a cup and hope for the best.

From Puerto Vallarta, we took a bus to Guadalajara. The ride was roughly five hours but the bus was nicer than any Greyhound I have ever been on. They seat roughly 30-40 people with each seat having the ability to recline as far back as a La-Z-Boy can with a television in each seat; all for $30. I got to watch Marley & Me again. Yes, it was in Spanish but I still got teary eyed when they put the dog down at the end. The ride also gave some beautiful views of the Mexican countryside. We drove through Tequila, Mexico (there is a city named after the drink) and got a viewing of the many tequila fields. I got a tequila drinking face just looking at them.

Guadalajara is where Nancy lived for a short time about ten years ago and knows the area quite well which was a bonus. We stayed in San Agustin, a suburb of Guadalajara, with the Robles-Diaz family, friends of Nancy during her time there. While the Robles may not be well off in terms of income, you wouldn't know it as they are such a close family and that close-ness allows them to overcome any obstacles that may come their way.

As I was the only non-Spanish speaking occupant in our five days there, the evening conversations going on in the house had me getting flashbacks to my youth at my Aunt Freda/Hilda's house. There I would sit on a love seat with my brother and sister and pretty much zone out until the conversation was targeted at me. Nancy was a trooper on translating some of the topics but who knows what they were all saying when they would giggle and look my way. My name was not Tim during my visit. I was "Teem" and that was okay with me.

Tuesdays in San Agustin is when the local vendors have their market day. For roughly a quarter mile stretch, anything and everything is for sale on one strip of the town. Nancy used to sell her well-renowned muffins here. Most of the vendors remembered her and one family even asked if she was selling any muffins, which put a smile on her face.

Zeta, Zeta, Zeta Gas

An alarm clock is not needed in the San Agustin area. At around 7:30 each morning, the propane gas company, Zeta Gas, drives through the streets like the ice cream man. Instead of the music that usually comes from the ice cream truck, the Zeta Gas chant/tune blares from the truck, "Zeta, Zeta, Zeta Gas," which alerts those needing gas that they are in the area. The town is so small that you can hear the faint sound of it in the distance until it's right in front of the house. I was like a Pavlovian dog this morning hearing the sound waking up in my bed here in the States.

The town scene in San Agustin was something I have never experienced before. Each house pretty much has some form of business operating out of it. There was a market out of one house, a pharmacy out of another, and my favorite, steak tacos at Don Chuy's house (pictured). He has the grill area, a pop refrigerator, and one table on his front porch. For 6 pesos/taco (roughly 40 cents), the meal is quite a treat. Bring your own cervezas and you are good to go. The Mexican version of tacos is quite different than the States I am happy to report. There is no cheese or sour cream involved. It's seasoned meat, onions, cilantro, and salsa. The crunchy tacos shells pretty much don't exist; it's all soft shelled. The taco record at Don Chuy's is 27 for those keeping score. I hit my limit at 12; and paid for it dearly on the flight home.

The city of Guadalajara has some beautiful, historic buildings downtown. The murals pictured at the bottom were painted by Jose Clemente Orozco (no relation to relief pitcher Jesse Orozco), a renowned Mexican artist. We took in some great sights and had some great meals. Nancy's knowledge of the area, in addition to her speaking Spanish better than the locals, was priceless.

too much of this overshadows the good

As beautiful as the downtown area is, it's too bad that a good portion of the buildings in the outlying areas are covered in graffiti. It's not isolated, it's everywhere. The bonehead gangs have nothing better to do than to deface the place they call home.

The final day we drove to Lake Chapala, the biggest lake in Mexico, with Javier, his wife Connie, and their son Javier Jr. A large lake it was. We took in a nice boat ride and checked out the local market in the city of Chapala. I was ready to buy a Chivas jersey (soccer team in Guadalajara) at the market but the back of the shirt had a Toyota logo. The jersey was cool looking but I have to draw the line somewhere. My beverage for the market walk was a wickedly strong one called a "Rusas" which gave me a tequila face on each sip I took. Wow.

All in all, it was great to see Mexico up close. Yes, some of the sterotypes ring true but overall, it is a beautiful country. Thanks again to Luis, Chayo, Connie, Yanet, Carla, Lilli, Luis Jr., and the rest of the Robles-Diaz extended family for making me feel at home this past week.

El Rastro Cabeza