A Rough Beginning

I landed in Puerto Vallarta on Sunday, October 2nd. I knew it would be rough because there were warnings of a Category 4 hurricane up the coast, from Puerto Vallarta to Mazatlan. I didn’t know how rough the beginning would actually be.

First the hurricane. My plane landed on time, without incident. Neto took off from Mazatlán the night before. Usually his bus ride to Puerto Vallarta takes seven hours. Because of the hurricane, his ride took seventeen.

I heard from Neto after my plane had landed and he was still four hours outside of  Puerto Vallarta. He’d been on the bus all night, while the bus was battered with wind and rain. Roads were washed out by mudslides. I waited sitting in the only chair I could find, at the Subway restaurant inside the airport.

We spent the next two nights at Las Palomas, a lovely small hotel in Tondoroque, across the road from the crocodile farm and Flamingos golf course.

Tuesday morning the weather was beautiful. The hurricane missed Mazatlan but hit Rosario, a small town south of Mazatlán. By the time it made landfall, the hurricane was downgraded to a Category 1. Roads and fields were flooded but damage was minimal.

We went to the bus station early Tuesday morning and bought two tickets to Tepic. The ticket agent assured us that we could get a connecting bus in Tepic and be in Mazatlán by 4:00. Not so.

We arrived in Tepic and was told that there was only one seat available on the bus to Mazatlán. Another bus would be available in three hours, at 2:15. p.m. 

We waited outside, eagerly watching for bus #2008 to arrive on time. Aye, no! An official looking woman let us know that the bus coming from Guadalajara had a flat tire. 

“It will be here in two hours,” she assured us. I should have known better. Mexican people are famous for telling you what they think you want to hear, rather than what is actually happening. It was almost 5:00 by the time bus #2008 arrived. We were still four hours from Mazatlán.

Ernesto called our host throughout the day, to let her know we were going to be late. When we arrived the host told us she couldn’t meet us.

“I’m sorry but I have a commitment at my son’s school.” Really?? By this time it was 10:0, on a Tuesday night.

Between Ernesto and the taxi driver, we were able to get through two security gates and find the key to our unit. It was not at all what I expected.

The kitchen cupboards were broken. Doors were off their hinges and the drawers wouldn’t close. Living room furniture was dirty and worn. There is a washing machine but no dryer. The patio is not warm and inviting. In fact, it is downright ugly. The host has mostly 5-Star ratings. I thought we were in the wrong house.

That’s when Ernesto let me know that his boss called and he needed to go to work “for a few hours.” He arrived home at 9:00 the next morning. The security guard who was supposed to relieve him, never showed up. Neto has no access to his phone at work and I had no idea where he was.

“All the guards stayed home during the hurricane and never came back,” he explained the next morning.

The same day (Wednesday) when we were going to go to the store for groceries, Ernesto was called into work at 3:00 p.m. His boss promised him double pay and reduced hours. He made a quick trip to the local convenience store for a loaf of bread, some mayonnaise and a package of Chihuahua cheese for sandwiches. 

“I should be home by 10:00.” By now, you know what happens next. Neto wasn’t home by 10:00 p.m. He was home by 10:00 the next morning. I told him to quit the job. 

“Don’t expect to be paid,” I told him. “We’ve been through this before.”

On Thursday, Neto went to work, cleaned out his locker and resigned. He waited until 5:00 to pick up his final paycheck, which never arrived. None of the other guards were paid either. They are all still waiting.

On Friday, Neto got up early, in search of his paycheck. While he was at the job site, he decided to go for a swim in the ocean.  We still hadn’t been to get groceries. I was out of patience. We were out of food. I hadn’t seen the swimming pool.

I sent pictures of the broken cabinets to the Airbnb host and told her we were not responsible for the damage. I made myself yet another cheese sandwich. I was a screaming banshee. I told Neto I was miserable and wanted to go home. 

But today is better. We finally made it to Walmart for food. I’ve seen the pool and it is lovely. I’m looking forward to a more promising week ahead.