I most sincerely apologize for the delay in posting today's blog. I thought that perhaps I would just pass, but as I have a perfect record, I figured that later was better than not at all. This morning is our anniversary, so we started off with a little Anniversary Breakfast at Daquerie Dick's (seems appropriate, no?!)
However, I won't continue with that story for the day is young and who knows what other adventures may ensue on one's 28th Anniversary. A toast to Helen Braden and family who helped us celebrate that day in Granthan, England more than a quarter of a century ago. Actually, Polley and I have been together for 35 years, but I will provide those sordid details on her birthday from Guadalajara.
Yesterday was a perfectly lovely day. Because there is a rumor of rain on Tuesday, we decided to do the beach a second day in a row. It was a bit cooler when I took my morning walk, wandering through the Mexican section of town and then down to this amazing baker to pick up another loaf of the only good bread in all of Puerto Vallarta. Back to the house and then off to the beach. Despite the day starting cool, the beach at noontime was punishing. We continually shifted our chairs beneath our umbrella to try and avoid the direct sun. Ah, the chores one must do to keep from becoming a lobster. We stayed until about 2 or so in the afternoon. Stopped for a brief beer and then headed back up the hill. We did pause as Polley noticed this wonderful bouquet of Bougainville against a bright, rich blue sky
Then on up the 82 steps to home and a little lunch. Both of us were deeply into books so we spent the remainder of the day napping and reading. I finished Richard Yates Revolutionary Road, recently made into a movie, though the book was written in the 60s. Polley with a little light reading, The Summer of Naked Swim Parties by Jessica Anya Blau.
Around 7 p.m. we headed down to La Palapa. We thought a musician from Que Pasa played there on Sunday evenings. Fist we had an overpriced glass of wine at the River Cafe. This is a kind of swanky place that sits on the island in the middle of the Rio Cuale. Very nice atmosphere, but a host that except for his age, well could have been a German officer in WWII. One very cold fish! After that we strolled on down to La Palapa, but no sign of Bobby, the muscian. So we headed back, only to discover another member of that same band from Que Pasa, bass guitarist, Steve York who plays along with his wife, Lisa at an oceanside bar, Cuartes y Cuertes. So, we sat in and boy were we glad we did. After they did a set, a trio of young people from Mexico City did a set and they were amazing. Two guitars and vocalist. Reminded me a bit of a small Pink Martini. She was a great scat singer, could make amazing sounds with her throat and mouth (sort of South American influence) and the lead guitarist was equally astounding.
We stayed and slowly sipped on a Corona each (having already spent our allowance on the wine) and listened for another set or so. Love watching musicians who had barely met, let alone play together, jamming. They did a blues number (all 5 musicians) and then a standard from the 40s or 50s. Great fun. Evening continued lovely as we walked back home and had a late night snack before calling it another delightful day.
Ed and Polley
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