A week to remember

Mexico and the ocean.....I think there is no better combination?

Rod and I just returned from a week in Mazatlan Mexico. We took Bethany on her Washington spring break along with B's room mate Gitta. B and I had earned free airline tickets allowing us to fly anywhere Alaska flies for free, even on spring break, so for once we could afford such a trip during a peak time.

The girls slept on the hide a bed in the living room with the ocean breeze softly blowing over the faces, hair flowing over the sides of their pillows as I got up in the mornings to make coffee in the little kitchenette side of the room. Rod and I claimed the privacy of the little bedroom, exchanging the ocean's soft roar and breeze for morning traffic and bus horns waking us each morning on our side of the unit.

I find myself wondering why we had such a good time and I know that a big part of it was the Mexican people. I stood waiting for a bus one afternoon and witnessed 3 children get off a city bus and greet an aunt and uncle waiting for them. The children raced down the sidewalk and each one was enveloped into the arms of the waiting relatives, kissed on the cheek, and held close for sometime. I was struck by the warmth of it all. Even good friends greeted each other with a warmth and lack of inhibition rarely seen here in the North...I found myself a little envious and wondering why we hold back. Is it vulnerability or fear of expectations that we cannot meet?

I know we were in a tourist area but even the help where we stayed seemed genuinely glad to have us around. We tried to speak to them in Spanish when we could and they graciously corrected our clumsy attempts to be polite and avoid the brusk North American stereotype that seems to have forgotten how to recognize the individual before asking/demanding assistance.

Each interaction was prefaced with a Buenos Dias/tardes,.. and ended with "por favor" (please)

Tourists who fail to learn these nicities may find themselves ignored and neglected until they learn their manners in such cultures! But even the smallest attempt to be polite is usually rewarded with great grace and generosity.

Bethany is always our best ambassador. Her engaging smile and cheery Spanish inquieries usually melted away the reserve of taxi drivers and anyone else jaded by the influx of we"gringos" constantly needing transportation to and from the airport. Soon we would learn how many children, grandchildren these men had, how long they had lived in Mazatlan, what the weather had been like, and maybe even a little culture and history before arriving at our destination. Knowing those things about someone makes it easier to identify with them and they become more like potential friends instead of just a driver.

The "Golden Zone" is a several mile strip of hotels on the ocean and you can walk most of it in one afternoon or evening. Even at night the strip is populated with both natives and tourists out enjoying the cool breeze as you walk by hotels, shops, and restaurants. City buses roar by you and will stop with just a wave of you hand when your feet say, "enough". The old city buses can be ridden for 4.5 pesos or about 45 cents American but little golf carts vie for your business and will take you most anywhere on the zone for about $4 for your group.

When we returned Monday night it was raining at the Portland airport. A cold wind drove the rain into us as we loaded our luggage into our van..daughter Erin so graciously dropping us off and picking us up at ungodly hours. At 2 am I slipped between the sheets of my own bed, grateful to finally be "out of the sky" and on solid ground. My bed felt incredibly good and somehow the rain didn't seem to matter as much as before I left...because somewhere south, the warm ocean breeze still blows through stately palm trees and gentle people still greet each other warmly.