A Journey of Hope, Magisterio, Puerto Vallarta

The road dust envelops us as we step out of the van at the top of the garbage transfer station and unload cases of water.  The men and women working in the dump, the recyclers who sort through the refuse for looking for anything that can be sold, line up in the hot, morning sun for a liter of water.  They are of all ages, dusty and dirty, making a meager living the only way they know how.  They come over quickly with a smile and a friendly greeting, and leave with a gracious “thank you”.  They sell what they can find and leaving their place in the dump to get water means that they may miss an item that could be worth a whole day’s work.  We hand out six cases before we drive to the bottom of the transfer station and do the same for those working in that area. 

We leave the dump and drive a few blocks into the village of Magisterio where the workers live.  We stop at the community center day care and kinder classrooms where we are greeted with warm hugs by energetic, happy kids.  They love having their picture taken and giggle as they look at themselves while pushing all of the icons on the digital screen. 

 

At this center, they are well cared for, learn English, play in an activities room, enjoy a hearty meal in a clean environment, splash in a bath at the end of the day and go home in clean clothes. Home for some is a space in the dirt surrounded by tarps.

After visiting with the kids, we bounced through the potholes to the end of Hope Road and view the construction site of the new apartment building for 70 families and a community center. 

 

While standing in the heat and swirling dust overlooking this new construction, I felt a poke in my thigh.  Looking down, I met the big brown eyes and sweet smile of a small boy wanting to hold my hand.  My new best friend shared my walk around the construction site with his shoes on the wrong feet. He gazed intently at the activity.  If his parents meet the criteria, it could be his new home. For the first time, he may feel the safety of four walls, lay his head on a pillow, and sit on a sofa as all of the units will be furnished.   

 

We left the site and drove slowly along Hope Road stopping three times to hand out juice to the kids.  Lining up when they saw the van, they stood quietly, the older ones helping the younger, most of them barefoot, reaching out with a polite thank you when handed a juice.   We distributed six cases. 

This Journey of Hope happens six days every week.  It is the mission of the non-profit organization www.familiesatthedump.org, the vision of the Board and the generosity of donors that are breaking this circle of poverty; the young kids are being cared for, daily meals are provided, the older kids have sponsorships to attend school, medical care is available, adult job training and micro-loans are provided for small businesses, and a housing facility with a community center are under construction and will be fully furnished when completed. 

My time in Magisterio was humbling and affirming that hope never ends.  Information on the work of this mission can be found at www.familiesatthedump.org.

San Sebastian del Oeste, Jalisco

The steep incline and winding, rough road slowed the van to a crawl every couple hundred yards.   We travelled 40 km and a full morning to this old silver mining town nestled at 4,400 feet in the lush Sierra Madre Mountains above Puerto Vallarta.

About a mile before we reach town, we stop at the beautifully restored, 17th century Hacienda Jalisco where silver ore was processed. 

 

Stepping through the crumbling arch portico we wander through the house admiring its thick walls, massive beams, and trompe l’oeil ceilings.  Oil lamps and candles grace tables and stairways as there is no electricity.  There is a fire pit in the patio for evening conversations.   Lush gardens surround the house; plump red coffee beans dangle from tall plants while picked beans are already drying on the patio where ore used to be ground; the sweet fragrance of orange blossoms hovers in the hot air; avocados hang temptingly on high branches. I run my fingers over the rough remains of an adobe wall now held together by tree roots.

Another ten minutes up the hill and we’re bumping along the narrow, cobblestone streets of San Sebastian del Oeste.  Today, 800 people live along the streets and alleys of this designated “Pueblos Magicos de Mexico”, a far cry from the 20,000 who lived here when the town was enjoying the riches of the silver mining industry.  The designation recognizes the town’s historical and cultural relevance: the buildings are painted traditional colors of white and brick red; handmade tiles, all different depending on the size of the man’s thigh who made it, line the roofs; cobblestone streets too narrow for cars; a graceful central plaza that provides a meeting place in the soft afternoon air adjoins a stunning, white gothic church filled with frescoes, crystal chandeliers, and gold.  The town exudes the charm of old Mexico. 

 

 

We inhale the sweet smell of pine as we hike up a dusty road in the afternoon heat to one of the old mine entrances, now almost engulfed by the forest.  We enter the damp air of the dark, narrow chamber and turn on our flashlights.  Standing 100 yards into the shaft, we turn off our lights and imagine the lives of the nine-year-old boys who worked in it.

The mine has not been in production since 1921; however, it was recently sold to a Canadian company with plans to begin mining in 2014.  This vein is so rich that they expect to extract hundreds of tons of silver ore.  The impact on this “Pueblos Magicos de Mexico” is unimaginable.  I’m grateful to have walked its quiet streets on this day.

A Young Entrepreneur, Zihuatanejo

Maria gently places her small hand on the dinghy as she walks alongside, as if she were blessing it.  She doesn’t lift her hand from it as her father hauls it onto the beach.  Some days, she comes to the beach directly from school, still wearing her uniform.  Other days, she’s in shorts.  Always, her hair is disheveled, falling carelessly out of a barrette or ponytail.  Sometimes, she brushes the stray strands away from her face; sometimes, she’s too busy to notice. 

Whether it was out of a need to take care of his family or his entrepreneurial spirit, or perhaps a little of both, her father, Juan, saw a need and filled the gap and at the tender age of six, Maria is helping when she can.  Juan provides a welcome service to cruisers by helping them land their dinghies safely on the beach in Zihautanejo.  Watching from the shade of the palm trees, he wades out to meet them, always with a smile and a polite greeting.  He holds the dinghy steady while the passengers hop out into knee-deep water, the driver shuts off the engine and hops out before pulling it up past the surf line.  Most bays do not have dinghy docks so beach landings are a necessary evil and having shore help is really nice.  After landing, Juan will keep an eye on your dinghy until you return and then he helps you launch, reading the waves and trying to keep everyone dry.  For this roundtrip service, he charges 20 pesos, about US$1.80. Some days, he may help 10 boats.  During a festival there may be 20 or more, but his average daily income rarely exceeds US$20. 

For many of us, Juan embodied the hard-working, entrepreneurial spirit that we encountered throughout Pacific Mexico.  Doing something is better than doing nothing. By filling a niche he found a means to provide modestly for his family. We don’t know his whole story.  He may have other income, he may do some fishing occasionally, but based on the hours that he was on the beach, it’s hard to imagine that there was time for anything else, and he was teaching his young daughter the same principles of hard work. 

Maria is a shy girl of few words.  She mostly just wants to touch the dinghies and walk alongside them.  I usually gave her some small coins for her efforts.  One day, I gave her a coloring book and some crayons.  She smiled and held them tightly.  On another day, I gave her a Barbie sticker book and her eyes lit up.  Next time I see her, I will have some clothes for her.  Sometimes, it's the little things in life that really matter. 

The Mayor's Raft Up, BahiaTenacatita

Tradition has it that all everyone anchored in Bahia Tenacatita on a Friday night is invited to a dinghy raft up hosted by the presiding Mayor of the anchorage.  At promptly 5:00 p.m., the Mayor anchors his dinghy off of Good Dog Beach and all other dinghies tie off to him and each other forming a circle or rectangle or some such form, depending upon the number that motor over.  The purpose of the event is to ‘meet and greet’.  Some cruisers may have been playing bocce ball and/or volleyball on the beach for days or even weeks, while others may have arrived that very afternoon.  Hors d’oeuvres are passed, introductions are made and conversation ensues until dusk when the bugs come out in force and everyone retreats to the safety of their cockpits and mosquito coils. 

 

In our last port, I came across some fresh basil and made pesto.  I decided to use it on a pizza with artichoke hearts, diced tomatoes, sliced olives and freshly shredded parmesan.  I made the dough in the morning, let is rise and placed it in the refrigerator to chill during my afternoon swim.  Upon my return, I stood in the cockpit and counted 38 boats, more than twice the number that were here in early January when we stopped on our way south.  I did the math.  If half came to the raft up there would be 19 dinghies and at least 38 people.  Serving a crowd of that size from one pizza made in my 13” x 17” oven was daunting. 

Then I remembered Patty, on Oogachucka, who fed 400 people with one bag of Costco meatballs.  No kidding.  The Baja Ha-Ha fleet arrived at our first anchorage, Bahia de Tortugas, and our first potluck. There she was standing at the head of the buffet table.  “Would you like a meatball?” she asked producing her hostess smile. If the answer was “yes”, she gently placed one toothpick-speared meatball on the plate. 

“The bounty looks slim”, I said to Ken as I examined the white expanse of my plate not covered by the meatball.  It was not an auspicious beginning.  Just beyond Patty, however, the potluck began in earnest with every appetizer, main course, side dish and dessert imaginable contributed by all 118 boats.  Fresh fish had been caught and was generously shared on the grill.  It was a hearty, fulfilling meal.

To this day, Patty's feeding of 400 is nothing less than a miracle.  Inspired by her, I arranged the ingredients into 45 bite-size pieces on the risen dough and baked it.  Homemade pizza is a treat for cruisers and there was enough for everyone. 

 

Zihuatanejo

In a nutshell, we like everything about this lovely fishing town. 

We anchored off of Playa la Ropa, a beautiful one-half mile long beach dotted with colorful umbrellas and palapa restaurants.  The water is warm and clear, perfect for morning and afternoon swims ashore.  Brightly colored homes and hotels cascade down the lush hillsides.

 

We enjoyed delightful walks along the shaded pedestrian-only streets, good restaurants, easy bus access for errands and field trips, friendly locals, evening cultural programs in the main plaza, an astonishingly large central market where just about anything can be found, and cheerful entrepreneurs who help with dingy landings on the beach for tips.

 

 

The highlight was volunteering for Sailfest and contributing to the non-profit foundation PorLosNinos which provides scholarships, school supplies and meals for indigenous students (www.porlosninos.com). Donations are raised during the weeklong event which includes a sailboat race, a benefit concert, a chili cook off and a sail parade for which we hosted a delightful group of donors aboard Gitane.

 

The following day, we helped keep track of 150 energetic kids on the beach during open swim, games and lunch.  For some kids it was the first time at the beach and it was great fun frolicking in the waves with them. 

 

We vowed to return earlier next winter and to stay longer as it quickly became our favorite winter destination. 

Sharing a habitat

Sailing from Las Hadas to Zihuatanejo in light winds and calm seas we enjoyed the companionship of magnificent sea creatures. 

In the morning, we crossed paths with a dozen adult sea turtles.  As they contentedly paddled past us, we thought of their nearly 80 year life span which is spent almost entirely in the water.  Last month, we released Olive Ridley hatchlings into the sea.  They were tiny, rubbery creatures that fit in the palm of our hands.  We placed them gently on the beach at water’s edge and sent them off with wishes for a good life.

 

  

In the afternoon, a large pod of dolphins came along side and greeted us with jumps and flips.  They would swim ahead of us and then drop back to jostle with one another for front position while darting back and forth across the bow before swimming back toward the stern and starting again.  It was a fun game of hide and seek that all enjoyed.

 

 It's awe-inspiring to share the habitat of these incredibly beautiful sea creatures. 

Bahia Tenacatita, Costalegre

This is one of our favorite bays where we spent 12 days swimming and snorkeling in the warm, crystal clear water, playing bocce ball on the beach with a dozen other cruisers followed by cold cervezas at the palapa, and enjoying Friday evening fleet raft-ups with sundowners.

 

 For provisioning and laundry services, we made two trips across the bay to La Manzanilla where there are well-stocked tiendas selling fresh produce, dairy products and other staples as well as a butcher shop and a seafood market.  We discovered a small restaurant on the beach where we enjoyed meals under the palapa.  I was lucky enough to be buying groceries when I heard a mariachi band in the street.  I left my basket of groceries on the floor and raced outside to check it out.  Much to my delight, a cowboy and his bride were riding slowly through town on a horse followed by the mariachi band, and then by the wedding guests in their cars and trucks.  Locals and visitors alike stood out on the curb to clap and wish them well.  It was a special local tradition that I was thrilled to have witnessed.