Bill and Jackie's Acapulco Trip

Our first trip!

Jackie and I visited Acapulco, Mexico for a week in February, 2001. It was our first trip together, which partly made it an adventure, learning about Acapulco as well as each other in the process.

The Trip to Acapulco

Jackie and I arrived at the airport at 6AM on Valentine's Day to begin our trip. We were using my frequent flyer miles on United, but my contacts with them on the phone hadn't gone so well. We were supposed to receive the tickets in the mail, but they were never issued, so they told us they'd be waiting at the check-in counter. We were expecting a bit of a problem, and true to form, it took them 30 minutes to print out the tickets and get us seat assignments. We did get on the plane to Chicago and it arrived there on time. That's the good news. The bad news is that our flight on Mexicana Airlines to Mexico City wasn't for another 5 hours.

We killed the time by getting some food and drink, reading the paper, finding the international terminal, and playing cards for a while. Soon enough, we were winging our way south to Mexico. A few interesting things I noticed about flying on Mexicana. All of our flight instructions were in both English and Spanish, and the flight attendants were all bilingual. When someone from the cockpit spoke over the intercom though, it was always in Spanish. They also had piped-music playing over the intercom while on the ground, waiting to taxi or waiting for a gate. Not that's strange in itself, but they were playing Muzak Christmas carols. Definitely strange hearing "Let It Snow" while on our way to the tropics in February. When you get a soda on Mexicana, they don't have cans, they have 2-liter containers of soda, and they refill your glass from there.

When we arrived in Mexico City, we had 4 hours until our connecting flight to Acapulco. It seemed like that should be enough time. First we had to pass through Immigration and Customs. About the same time we landed, a couple jumbo jets must have landed. It was a mad rush to the area where they process everyone though Immigration. There must have been over 1000 people trying to get in there, and we didn't all fit. There was pushing and shoving and loud shouts when someone tried to cut into a line. It was total chaos, and took us forever to get through. It was our first clue about "Mexican time," that they're not in a hurry for anything.

Once we passed through Immigration, Customs took a quick peek through our carry-on bags. We were confused about whether we had to pick up our luggage or if it would be automatically transferred to the connecting flight. It seemed strange that Customs didn't want to see our large suitcases, just the carry-on bags. After not finding them with the rest of the baggage from our flight, we found an information booth where we were told that they'd be on the connecting flight. So we quickly converted some cash to pesos and tried to find our gate for the flight to Acapulco. A security guard looked at our tickets and told us to go to gate B. We found gates F, E, D, C, and A, but there was no B. A man heard us talking about that and said he'd lead us to gate B. It was a long hike all over, but he finally delivered us to gate B. Then he wanted 100 pesos (about $10US) for his trouble. So I gave it to him. We found the gate for our flight, right next to where we went to Immigration. By this time we had killed 3.5 hours. We boarded the plane within a few minutes and were on our way to Acapulco.

It's a short flight from Mexico City to Acapulco, due south for about 45 minutes. We were surprised how small its airport was. We found the baggage carousel and waited for our bags to arrive, and they all did. But one. Sigh. Jackie's suitcase with all her clothes didn't make it. We were the last people in the baggage area at this time. Then we had to take our suitcases through Customs. Each family or travel group must push a button by the customs guards. When you push it, if the light turns red (it's all random), they open your bags and go through everything. If it turns green, you're through and on your way. Our light was green. We filled out the paperwork for Jackie's lost bag, and arranged a taxi to the hotel. They were waiting to close up behind us as we were the last ones out.

Most of the taxis were small vehicles (more on that later), but we ended up in an SUV with plenty of room for both our luggage and us. Now it was time for a kamikaze taxi ride. A little geography is helpful here. Acapulco is a deep water harbor on the southern coast of Mexico. It's a large circular harbor, almost completely enclosed, with an opening to the sea on the west end. There's not much room between the harbor and the mountains which rise to all sides. All the hotel and tourist areas are in the small area between the beach and the mountains, and one main road runs in the circle around it. The airport is outside of town, up past the mountains. So the ride from the airport to the main road where the hotels are is a circular drop. The speed limit is 60 km/h. Our taxi was going over 120 km/h. The two guys up front laughed as the sped past slower cars, and at times were passed themselves. Where it was two lanes, they swerved left and right to get around other cars. Where it was one lane, it all bottlenecked until they could spread out again. About 15 minutes later, we were parked in front of the Hotel El Tropicano.

The hotel was right on the main street through Acapulco called Avenue C. Miguel Aleman. It's a six-lane road with a tree and shrub-filled median. Heavy traffic flows by all day and night. Actually the hotel was just at the intersection of a road that ran off at an angle and the building that housed the lobby and the hotel offices ended at a side road. On one side of the hotel was a huge Wal-Mart, Hooters was across the street, and a sushi place was next door on the side street. Just down the main street was one of the popular night clubs (diskotekas). We were right smack dab in the middle of tourism central.

Now we knew we weren't staying at one of the huge hotels right along the beach where room rates are over $300 a night. We knew the El Tropicano was only a 2-star hotel. Still, we figured finding the hotel and the lobby wouldn't be a big deal. We got out of the taxi, claimed our luggage, and stared at a building that obviously housed several businesses. Stuck between a real estate office and a restaurant was the lobby for the hotel. Checking in took a bit of work with the night clerk speaking very little English. Jackie had bid online and paid for a voucher for 5 nights. Since we'd needed to stretch the visit to 7 nights because of flight availabilities, she'd faxed that information to the hotel. This guy finally gave up, gave us the key, and a bellman led the way to our room. It was midnight, but we had arrived safe and sound and with most of our baggage.

The Hotel Room

Again, we knew we hadn't rented a room with posh accommodations. The room, though, was a bit of a shock at first. It had two double beds with very soft mattresses. There was a small dresser, a couple tables, and a night stand. These four pieces of furniture were rough and cracked and cheap. You could have spent $50 at a yard sale and gotten better stuff. The drawers in the dressers just slide in and out, no rollers. The knobs on them were twisted, crooked, and loose at times. There was no TV (although we saw signs in the lobby the next day that you could rent one), no clock, the phone had no number on it, and the phone jack just hung from the wall. There was a lamp on the night stand, a light fixture in one corner of the room, and a light in the bathroom. The door to the room doesn't fit flush in the door frame, so noises from the street just beyond it and the hot air rushed in the gaps all around it. It also had no dead bolt, just a button you push in on the back of the knob, and a small restraint that would keep the door from opening no more than a crack. There were sliding doors to the balcony, but they didn't close tight and wouldn't lock. The air conditioning had been off all day and it was hot and muggy in the room. The floors were all tile. The bathroom had a tile sink (no stopper), and toilet that was noisy as hell to flush and needed several flushings to get everything down, and a semi-circular shower stall.

We were exhausted and didn't even bother to unpack. We collapsed into bed and had a rough night's sleep. It was hot and muggy in the room, and we could hear all the traffic noise from the main road and the side road just outside our door. We were awake by 7:30 in the morning and were soon greeted by a cacophony of noise as a large number of kids began playing loudly in the pool just below our balcony.

So after reading all that, you're probably thinking, what a disaster concerning the room! You know what, it wasn't bad! Once we left the a/c on high all day, it was cool enough to sleep with just a sheet over us. By the next night we had quickly adjusted to the noise and it didn't bother us. For the rest of that week, there were kids in the pool every morning making a ton of noise, and we didn't really hear them until we were ready to wake.

The tile floors felt cool beneath your feet after a day in the hot sun. We didn't need the TV. What would have been nice would have been some access to ice. The room had an ice bucket, but no ice machine or vending machines with cool drinks were to be found. It did have a pitcher for water and two glasses. A sign in the bathroom said not to drink the water from the tap. There were coolers of purified water in the corridors outside the rooms, so we filled the pitcher with that, and used that for brushing our teeth and washing down food or pills. The shower had plenty of hot water (until the last day). Our balcony had a great view of the pool. While the rooms weren't that great, the pools and courtyard of the hotel were lush and immaculate. It was nice to sit on the balcony and watch people either in the pool or coming and going through the lobby. And yes, if you look at the photo, that phallic structure is a volcano fountain.

The rate Jackie got for the room was great. We could sleep mostly comfortably (no fitted sheets made for additional fun), and shower ourselves clean. What more could you want from a room in a place where you planned to spend most of your time outside?

Los Quatro Vientos

The restaurant that shared the building with the hotel was called Los Quatro Vientos (The Four Winds). This became one of our favorite places to hang out. It was on the second floor above the hotel offices, and had a terrace that looked out over the main street. We went there for breakfast the first morning, and sat in the corner watching the city go by. All the restaurants there had both Spanish and English menus. Some combined them on the same menu. That first morning we were immediately pegged as tourists and given English menus. Maybe it was because our skin was still pale and we had that lost look in our eyes.

When we sat down, they put on the table some tortilla chips (thicker and tastier than what you buy in a supermarket here), and 4 types of salsa. They also gave us a bowl of onion slices that had been marinated in some sort of hot pepper sauce. Adding some salsa (red or green) and a slice of onion to a tortilla chip woke us up quickly, followed by a gulp of Coca-Cola Light to wash it down. This was our first introduction to food that would make our tongue and lips numb and cause us to drink our beverages quickly to try to cool off our mouths. This became interesting when the drinks were alcoholic.

Breakfast was omelet with salsa, chilaquilles (soft tacos with cheese, salsa, and onions), and refried beans. I am not a fan of the refried beans you get here in the states. The have the consistency of paste too often. These were beans, real beans, and usually covered with some sort of cheese (goat cheese, maybe?). They were good!

While we were sitting there, two Volkswagens ran into each other. What fun! Okay, a little background on traffic on Ave. C. Miguel Aleman. Most of the cars are taxis. About half the taxis are old Volkswagen Bugs. So old that they predate seat belts and just have the suicide straps. Many of the private cars are also Volkswagen Bugs. Most of them look to be in great shape. The majority of the rest of the taxis were small Nissans. The had various horns of all sounds, some the loud honks we're used to, some like bird calls, some like European sirens. They don't usually lay heavy on the horn, but give a short tootle, or bird call or whistle or whatever. Traffic swerves in and out of lanes, and I came to see that the lane markings were just suggestions. Sometimes cars stayed within the lanes, sometimes they straddled it. If there were traffic rules, nobody seemed to care. Cars parked in the right travel lane, backed up against traffic, double parked, whatever suited them.

Where the side street next to the hotel met the street that angled off from the main road, there were no stop or yield signs, and it was a blind corner because of the hotel. A Volkswagen Bug passing up the side street got rammed by a late model Jetta or Golf passing in front of the hotel. It was only a fender bender. Nobody got angry. The policia finally arrived, picked up pieces of the Jetta and put them in its truck and tied its bumper back on. They decided the Bug driver was at fault. This was all fun to watch from our vantage point just above.

Our vacation was off to an interesting start, we had good food and full bellies. It was time for the beach! There was just one little problem. Jackie's bag still hadn't arrived. In her smaller bag, she had some shoes, her hair dryer, and a skirt and shorts she had thrown in at the last moment. She had worn the shorts plus one of my shirts to breakfast. She had no swimsuit. We did what all good Americans would do in that situation. We went to . . .

Wal-Mart

The Super Wal-Mart was right next to the hotel. This thing was humungous. It had a McDonald's, a Domino's Pizza, and a Blockbuster Video inside. It had a supermarket. It had rows and rows of beer and alcohol. It even sold mattresses. Strangely enough, we couldn't find any fitting rooms. All the employees there looked under the age of 18 or 20. The girls usually had short skirts.

We were probably in the Wal-Mart about every other day. Whatever supplies we needed, from Band-Aids (which they kept behind the pharmacy counter and had to be paid for there) to sunscreen to cold sodas or beer to a clock radio to clothes to water, we got it there at the beginning of our day.

We could pay in pesos or credit cards. Language was usually a problem if we needed help or the cashier tried to tell us something. We bought a couple beers one day, and the cashier kept trying to tell us something about the beer. Jackie finally figured out that we needed to buy them in six-packs. So we got a few more and the cashier was happy.

The first day, Jackie bought a new swimsuit and some shirts, a few other items, and we were all set. It wasn't far to the hotel, a couple hundred feet, tops. This was the place, though, for the line of taxis. Here was our first introduction to the incessant "hawking" that we would encounter. Every taxi driver we passed would ask us if we need a ride. Some would quickly accept a shake of the head no or "no gracias." Some would approach with maps to take us somewhere. Some would offer to take us downtown to the markets or shopping. Some offered to take us to the cliff divers. It became a real pain to walk this short stretch of the avenue.

So it was back to the hotel to get properly attired for the main purpose of our visit.

The Beach

The first part of enjoying the beach is finding the beach. Jackie had been told that it was just across the street from the hotel. All we saw was Hooters and large hotels. Obviously we had to cross the street. Down near Wal-Mart was a pedestrian crossing where the traffic cops would stop traffic to let people across all six lanes. But it was in the wrong direction for us.

We wandered first up and down the avenue just to see what was around, and then after watching others cross the busy traffic lanes, gave it a shot ourselves. It was pretty easy, you just had to move fast. You waited for a gap in traffic. They were usually small gaps that closed quickly and it might take minutes for one to open. Then you walked swiftly across to the median, and repeated it for the other three lanes of traffic. Once we were on the other side, we figured one of the side streets that lead past the huge hotels had to lead to the beach. Sure enough, we peered down the first one we encountered and there it was! After about a 1000-foot walk, we had reached the beach.

The first thing we met was more hawkers. The minute we stepped onto the beach, they offered to get us lounges, chairs, or umbrellas. In front of the hotels was a sea of umbrellas and stretched out beneath them were a bevy of what looked to be retired men and women who had been working on their tan for a long time. I'd say that about 75% of the people we saw on the beach must have been older than 55. If I see one more overweight senior citizen in a Speedo, it will be way too soon. Okay, I'd gladly see that again if I it meant I got to return to Acapulco.

Even with the hotels, the beach is a public beach. There were no private areas. So among the tourists we found lots of local families and kids. It turns out the umbrellas and lounges were free, but the guys who set them up for you expected a tip. We had brought our own beach towels and drinks in a backpack, so we weren't interested in any of those items. We found a spot, laid out the towels, and became instant sun worshippers. As we lay there, people tried to sell us everything under the sun. A short list of these items would include hammocks, tablecloths, jewelry, food, coconut oil, hair braiding with beads, coconuts, peanuts, pineapples, hats, toy parasails, and one kid about 4 years old was selling Tic-Tacs and Hall's cough drops. We said "no gracias" a lot.

The water was separated into an alternating series of swimming areas and boating areas. When we walked past boating areas, the hawkers tried to get us to go parasailing or diving or renting a WaveRunner (a Jetski for two) or riding a banana boat (a yellow banana-shaped inflatable raft towed behind a boat at high speeds). Actually for those items, the hawkers would ask me, not Jackie. For most of the beach items, they would usually address Jackie.

Jackie and I were happy just to spend our time sitting on our towels watching everyone else on the beach with the occasional dip in the water to cool off. We're both people watchers and the beach provided so much entertainment. One of the items being hawked on the beach was massage. On that first afternoon, two young Canadian women took up chairs just in front of us. They ordered pina coladas, and soon after a guy calling himself Tony Macaroni came by and offered one of them a free foot massage. He had reflexology charts with him. The one girl took him up on the offer, and Tony ended up giving her a complete massage. Being a massage therapist myself, I watched his strokes and how he used them. He wasn't too bad. It looked like he was using coconut oil for massage lotion. When he finished with the first one, he offered to do the second girl and she agreed. He took longer with her. I think he liked her better. Then he asked to be paid 150 pesos (about $15US). The girls immediately protested that he said it was free. Tony explained that the first massage was free, but the second one was 150 pesos. They argued that he never said that, and besides, they didn't have that much money on them. They claimed to be poor backpackers with just a little money on them. Tony finally brought his price down to 50 pesos. They claimed all they had was a Canadian 5-dollar bill. Tony didn't want Canadian money, but he said he'd take American money. But it was the Canadian 5-dollar bill or nothing, so he took it. Then the girls left and walked into one of the high-rise hotels on the beach.

Jackie and I had great seats for the whole show and it was free! When the girls left, Tony offered Jackie a free massage. She said "no gracias" without splitting a gut in laughter. Tony then moved down the beach offering women his free massage. Gee, he didn't offer me one.

The water in the harbor was fairly warm. Since the air temperature was near 90F in the afternoons, the water felt cool at first. The seabed fell away quickly from shore. Once you stepped into the soft sand where it began to angle down from the beach, it sucked you in and the undertow began to move you away. Then the waves would push you back in. The waves weren't large, nothing you could body surf. This was probably because there was no shelf for them to break over as they came rushing ashore. Standing still in the water wasn't easy once you got about chest deep. You were constantly pushed one way or the other by the undertow or waves. It was relaxing and fun to spend time in the water, though. We did notice that most of the older folks held onto the ropes that delineated the swimming and boating areas so they didn't have to worry about the movement of the water.

We left the beach in the middle of the afternoon and went to find some lunch. We passed Planet Hollywood and The Hard Rock Café and found a little Mexican restaurant. Again the food was surprising, not just the tastiness, but how much food we got for relatively little money. I ordered a fruit bowl as an appetizer, and got a huge bowl overflowing with fruit topped off with lime sherbet. It was good and was enough to be a meal in itself. Jackie ordered what she thought would be a grilled chicken breast and ended up with half a chicken. Again, there were more refried beans, tortillas, salsa, and cheese.

We returned to the beach about 3 in the afternoon. Most of the elderly people had vacated the beach by then. For the rest of that week, Mexican families or just local kids coming down to the beach to play dominated the late afternoon. The beach wasn't nearly as crowded as it was at noon, though. Most of the local kids didn't wear swimsuits. The boys would strip down to shorts or boxers to go into the water, the girls would wear shorts and tops. They had a blast, and it was fun watching them. Jackie and I spent the rest of the afternoon perfecting our beach relaxation technique: sitting, lying, swimming, and watching. We'd spend the rest of the week practicing, practicing, practicing.

For dinner, we wandered into Jimmy's Cantina (with real sawdust on the floor) just past the sushi place next to the hotel. Tuesday is 2-for-1 night at Jimmy's. We quickly found out what that meant. We ordered dinner and margaritas. 2-for-1 meant we both got two margaritas. Eating spicy salsa and spicy food meant the drinks went quickly.

At this point, I'm going to throw out a lot of excuses. We were tired. The trip down and lousy night's sleep took their toll on us. Lying on the beach all day relaxed us. All that good food satiated us. The truth be told, we wandered back to the hotel after the meal and lay down on the bed to relax. We were going clubbing later, and thought we'd take it easy until then. And we fell asleep. Such lightweight drinkers we are. I woke about midnight, turned off all the lights and called it a night. We woke up about 9 the next morning to the sounds of kids in the pool.

I'm guessing that the week of our first 4 days there must have been a vacation week from school in Acapulco and surrounding areas. Every morning and evening the pool was full of kids with adults sitting around chatting while they played. Every afternoon had families and teenagers on the beach. By Sunday afternoon, they were all gone and replaced by college kids looking like they were on spring break. I don't know which was more fun, watching the kids have a blast in the pool or watching bikini-clad young women sun themselves. Tough call.

This became our pattern for the week, except for falling asleep early in the evening. We'd wake, shower, and head out for Wal-Mart or breakfast. We'd be on the beach about noon or early afternoon, and except for a possible break for lunch, we'd stay there until the early evening. Then it would be dinner, perhaps a walk or nightclub, or we'd sit in the terrace at Los Quatro Vientos sipping drinks and watching the city go by. We never went out on a boat, never went to see the cliff divers, and never investigated any nearby ancient ruins if there were any.

The beach was our milieu. We'd lie there content, chatting away the day, watching the other people, and I'd make up stories about some of the more interesting characters we saw. About the second day of lying under the sun, I could feel it bake that winter chill from my bones, that coldness that seeps deep into every cell of your body that you're not aware of until you're someplace warm. When I'd lie on my back, I'd stare up at a sky so clear that it was like staring into an infinite pool of blue. Every day I could feel more stress flow out of me. By about Sunday, I could feel myself reaching the state of total relaxation. I don't think I stopped smiling.

We didn't wear any watches and we often lost track of time. Which is just the way it should have been. After a few days, we'd try to guess the time by the placement of the sun in the sky, but we were still wrong. Often we were off by hours. We wandered off the beach once for what we thought would be a late lunch and discovered it was dinner time.

Some nights we stayed on the beach until sunset. Watching the sun go down was a remarkable sight. Especially the evening we had a few clouds, and as it dipped behind the mountains at the far end of the harbor, red streaks of sun shot upward through the clouds. All we could do was smile and say, "Heh, we're in Acapulco!"

The People

Like most tourist locales, Acapulco was an interesting mix of tourists and locals. The tourists were mostly western or Mexicans. We didn't see many Oriental tourists, despite several sushi restaurants. Among the tourists, we heard mostly English, French, and Italian. Acapulco appears to be popular with Canadians. Our hotel had information on direct flights to major Canadian cities. Our airline flights there and back took several legs to reach our destinations, and we could have flown direct from Montreal to Acapulco.

We came to see many of the same people on the beach on multiple days. We gave several of them nicknames. One was the Oilman. He was probably in his 50s or early 60s, rotund, well tanned, and red-faced. He was gregarious, always talking loud to those around him like he was holding court. He had that booming Texas drawl and loved being the center of attention. We even saw him one night in a restaurant, and when a group of college-aged American boys walked in, he got up and greeted them with, "Where y'all from?" He even greeted Tony Macaroni on the beach.

Then there was the Beautiful Woman. When we first saw her on the beach, she was one of the Beautiful People, a threesome walking down the beach carrying that air of "we're beautiful and we know it." We saw her alone later that day and the next day. You couldn't help watch her as she walked by. Darkly tanned, nice bikini, curvaceous, and had perfected the walk that shook her full hips left and right with just enough sauciness to display confidence without arrogance.

One day we had The Poser. She was in a skimpy lime green bikini, and we saw her initially with a guy with a camera. She posed at the edge of the water for him. Then he left, and she continued to pose. She stood there holding poses for long periods of time. We looked all around for her friend with the camera, but couldn't find him anywhere. She must have stood out there for at least an hour. She took a break and returned for about another hour. Just standing there, holding a pose. Curiosity got the best of me, and I went up to her and asked her why she was standing there. She gave me a look that either meant she didn't understand a word I said or was totally whacked on some pharmaceutical. A mystery never solved.

The guidebooks we had read before going to Mexico had warned that a woman alone would draw attention from aggressive males. A few times when I went into the water, someone would approach Jackie. We saw several woman, or pairs of women, on the beach that would inevitably draw male attention. A pretty woman in a short skirt on the road would get a taxi driver to screech to halt to see if she wanted a ride. Young men carried themselves with that Latin macho swagger, always on the prowl for a woman. Yet, something appears to happen once they become fathers. We saw many, many fathers gleefully playing with their kids in the pool, in the ocean, or on the beach.

Another interesting aspect of the families at the beach was that sometimes there were no parents present. The oldest teenage daughter would be in charge, and I never saw one of the younger siblings give her any trouble at all.

Besides the annoying hawkers trying to sell us something, almost all the people we encountered were pleasant, friendly, and willing to work through the language barrier if it was there. A few times we had trouble making ourselves understood and didn't quite get what we wanted, but we went with the flow.

Food and Drink

What can I say about the food? It was wonderful! It barely resembled what passes for Mexican food here. We had the best meals, and usually at the cheapest prices, at the small restaurants the local families patronized. Every place had different salsas with different levels of spiciness. There were green and red salsas and some places offered both. Beans were worked into many dishes, and flat tortillas were usually provided with dinner. Cheese and onions were added to many dishes. Everything was just so good.

We really liked the small, non-tourist places to eat. One night, we had a real feast, although not quite expecting it when we sat down. They put the usual chips and salsa on the table when we ordered. We both ordered appetizers. Jackie got beans and tortilla chips. I got a shrimp cocktail. It wasn't three or four shrimp around the rim of a glass, it was about 15 shrimp buried inside cocktail sauce inside a glass. I ordered grilled chicken and Jackie ordered Mexican chicken. Jackie's came with a leg and thigh and more refried beans. Mine was a half chicken, salad, and refried beans. They also gave us bread and butter. By the time we'd rolled out of there, we'd spent less than 250 pesos ($25US).

In contrast, just looking at the menu at Planet Hollywood, a hamburger cost 80 pesos ($8US). Twice we ended up in places that catered to tourists. One night we walked for at least a mile along the avenue towards the east end of the harbor and ended up at a buffet in a restaurant that overlooked a rocky part of the shore. The restaurant was open air, so we could feel the breeze off the ocean and look down at the water crashing around the rocks. The food, though, was not the usual Mexican fare, but appeared to have been "dumbed down" for the tourists who didn't want it too spicy. Still, it was good. As we finished eating, the nightclub section of the restaurant had a stage show with traditional Indian dance. I found the clamshell bras interesting. I have no idea how women move their hips like that without hurting themselves.

As we walked along the avenue several times, we passed a place called Embarcadero's. The sign said, "The Island is only open from 6-11." It was intriguing, so we went in one evening. The décor was great! It was built like an island inside a cave and you had to walk over a bridge across a moat to get to the center of the restaurant. A whole nautical theme ran throughout the restaurant. The salad bar was a boat called "A Frigg'n Queen." When we got the menus, our eyes popped out of our heads at the prices. We figured "what the hell" and went for it. Oysters Rockefeller and Oysters in Devil Sauce, filet mignon and lobster tail, filet mignon and shrimp. It was our most expensive meal by far, but it was good.

Drinks were interesting. We knew not to drink tap water, and the sign in the hotel bathroom warned us about that. The guidebooks said that most restaurants used purified water for ice, so that shouldn't be a problem, but to check. We never did, and were served a lot of ice in our drinks, and never had a problem. Restaurants and bars didn't have soda on tap, so to speak, nothing they could squirt into a glass. So if you ordered a soft drink, they brought you a can and a glass of ice. They don't have Diet Coke or Diet Pepsi there. It's Coca Cola Light (or just Coca Light) and Pepsi Light. One waiter didn't understand Diet Coke, but when I said Coca Light, his eyes lit up and he knew what I meant.

In a tiny restaurant where we had breakfast one morning, every time we ordered a Pepsi Light, the waitress had to run across the street to buy a can or two. If you read the ingredients of Coca Light, it has all the usual ingredients. Pepsi Light, though, contains Diet Pepsi concentrate.

Soda in cans became interesting when we started drinking Bacardi and Cokes. They would bring a glass of ice with Bacardi and the can of Coca Light to add to it. You could see how much rum was in the glass. The first night we did this, we were at Los Quatro Vientos, and the first drink came about half full with rum. The second one was about 2/3 full of rum. The third one was about 3/4 full before adding the soda. If we would have had a fourth drink, I'm curious whether there would have been room for the Coke.

The Night Life

The good news was that Jackie's suitcase with her clothes finally arrived on Friday night. Now she could dress snappily for a night on the town. So if we could stay awake long enough, we might actually sample some of it.

There were many nightclubs we had heard about or seen within short walking distance from our hotel. There were a few for which we'd seen ads or had heard about that we couldn't find. The one right next to the hotel was Baby'O. Thursday night was Ladies Night, but we had fallen asleep early. Friday night didn't seem to have anything special. Saturday night was Pajama Party, and the sign said, "No pajama, no Baby'O." You needed to be wearing your nightclothes to enter. Sunday night was Hot Pants night. Monday night was Ladies Night again. So which night did we go? Friday night.

We knew the nightclubs didn't open until late. Baby'O didn't even open until 11PM. Then we had to pay the cover charge, 250 pesos for men, 150 pesos for women. That's $40US just to get in the door. I was curious what that bought us. We were shown to a tiny table with tiny chairs on the second level above the dance floor. We ordered margaritas at 550 pesos a pop. For the first hour, they just showed MTV music videos on a large screen. At midnight, they shut that down and started a light and music show that must have rocked the businesses down the street. Then it was disco music and dancing. We danced a few of the songs, had a second round of margaritas. By almost 1AM, the dance floor was so packed you couldn't get on it. The place was jammed full and they only let new people in as other people left. We again enjoyed our favorite sport of people watching. It looked like a drug deal was going down just in front of us. Like the beach, a group of women sitting alone almost instantly drew male attention. I don't think I've ever seen so much booze consumed in my life. These tiny tables with people crowded around them would have over $100US in drinks on them.

That was all you got for the cover charge, though. Expensive drinks, loud disco music, and dancing on a crowded dance floor. It was one of the places to see and be seen. I have to admit, the song "You and me, baby, we're nothing but mammals" was stuck in my head for the rest of the week. We left a little after 1AM, being the tired old fogies we are.

I suspect the other clubs charged about the same admission prices. One of the things being hawked on the beach were discount passes to the clubs. They would sell 250 peso admission tickets for 200 pesos on the beach. They would target the college crowd with this.

For the pajama party night, Jackie and I set up shop at the corner table of the terrace at Los Quatro Vientos and had the rum and cokes where the rum levels increased with each glass. We had a good view of the people trying to get into Baby'O. Some wore pajamas, some guys took off their pants and went in their boxers, some had robes, but most outfits were pretty tame. A few women went in baby dolls, and that was about risqué as it got. It was fun to watch, though, especially those that didn't get in.

We also watched the people in the street below. There was a young couple down by the bus stop just below us. He was in an army uniform, she was in a short dress. She hung all over him, kissed him, and pressed herself against him. He wouldn't even put his arms around her. At one point he got angry and threw his hat on the ground. We had no idea what their story was, so we made one up. I surmised he had another date at midnight with another woman, and she wasn't going to let him go. After an hour, they finally walked away together.

About midnight, a group of people in work outfits came along with wheelbarrows, shovels, and brooms to clean the curbs and sidewalks. We saw this another night just about midnight. Young locals would dress up and parade up and down the street every night. They probably couldn't afford to get into the nightclubs, but they were dressed to impress. Very few people, outside of the tourists or shoppers (Wal-Mart was open 24 hours) dressed casually at night. Kids could be seen on the street at all hours, or at least until Jackie and I collapsed and went to bed. We usually didn't it make it much past 1AM. Even whole families could be seen out walking, including babies in strollers, well after 10.

The local policia would also cruise up and down the avenue, sometimes with their red and blue flashers going, but they didn't appear to be pulling anyone over and everyone else ignored them. It appeared they were just letting people know of their presence. A few interesting items about the local police. They often had pickup trucks, two in the cab and one riding in the back of the truck. I wonder how they choose who gets to ride back there and how he keeps from falling out if they have to rush somewhere. We also saw several cops with guns. They weren't little handguns on their hips, we're talking automatic weapons. It looked like they were carrying AK-47s. You don't want to tangle with these guys.

We never saw any really unsavory characters during our excursions or on the beach. The guidebooks had recommended not going up into the local neighborhoods in the hills, so we stuck to the avenue and beach. We also didn't see any streetwalkers or pimps. Everything was mostly clean (or soon would be) and safe.

For hot pants night at Baby'O, we decided that we'd rather check out the hot pants in Hooters. In Mexico, more attention is paid to butts than breasts. Hooters was no different. Any of those girls could have won the competition at Baby'O. What surprised me the hour or so we were in Hooters, were the families that ate there. I would have thought it more of a tourist place.

The Trip Home

That in a nutshell was our vacation in Acapulco. Lots of good food, six lazy days in the hot sun on the beach, too many drinks at night, and lots of fun people and interesting sights to entertain us. By Wednesday morning, we were tanned, relaxed, and definitely not ready to go home. It would have been so easy to stay, max out the credit cards, and wait for work to miss us. Oh yeah, and the kids too.

We rose at 5am, though, to start our journey home. Actually, we were up at 2:30 too when the broken clock radio decided to go off. A Volkswagen Bug taxi picked us up at the hotel. My large suitcase wouldn't fit in the trunk. The driver had to put it in the front passenger seat and he had to drive with his right elbow up in the air. He got us to the airport at 6AM, an hour before our flight.

Then we got hit again by "Mexican time." Processing each passenger at the check-in line was painfully slow. There weren't that many people in line, but we began to worry about making the plane. Although I suspected the people behind us were on the same plane. When we got to the counter, it was as if they had to enter all the flight information into the computer all over again. The guy who checked us in spent a long time typing before tagging our bags and getting us our boarding passes. We left for the gate with 5 minutes to spare. Everyone made the plane, though, and we were off to Los Angeles.

In L. A., we had to go through Immigration and Customs again. Immigration was quick and we had to get our checked bags from the carousel before going through Customs. Customs was quick and our bags were put on a conveyor belt for our connecting flight. We took the bus over to the United terminal and found the gate for our next flight. We called the kids, and headed for Washington, D.C.

The interesting part of the flight was our tourist guide pilot. It was a bright, clear day, and as we flew over the Southwest, he pointed out sites we could see from the plane, and even had air traffic control reroute them slightly for better looks. We had good views of the red rocks of Sedona and the mile-wide crater in the middle of the Arizona desert. It amazes me the amount of unoccupied land we have in this country.

We made DC in time and caught the plane home to Burlington. The temperature was 4F when we got off the plane. Our vacation was over and back to reality. The memories will remain vivid in my mind for a long time. It was a wonderful week in Acapulco.