Mornings in Yelapa 2

The days slide by here. They´ve been taken up, so far, with showing visitors around. First our daughter Alicia, whose two weeks with us have passed; we put her on a plane back to Spokane, and thence to home in Nelson, on Thursday. During her time with us we also had my brother Mike and his Mexican wife, who´ve since gone back to their home in Cabo. Now we have his twin brother Mark and his Columbian wife, staying in Vallarta this month but out here in Yelapa with us for the weekend. All of this has prevented me from writing much, but starting Monday I should be on track.

Last night April and I, with my brother and his wife, were at the Oasis, enjoying the music in that outside restaurant, when the power went off (a frequent occurence in Yelapa), and we had the adventure of making our way across the darkened pueblo with flashlights (everyone carries a flashlight here when going out at night) to our casa. Climbing the stony path our casa, it began to sprinkle, then, just as we made it under our roof, it began to rain in earnest, really pour, though this is supposed to be the dry season. Must have rained for a couple of hours as my brother and I sat on our back balcony and talked until midnight. This morning we woke to a cool freshness after the rain and a greener jungle, washed clean of its dust. The day has remained cool and cloudy, though, and we look forward to the sun´s return tomorrow.

Yesterday, before the rain, the mouth of the Tuito, the river that empties into Yelapa´s bay, was closed -- by the sand washed up by the breakers -- and the lagoon, consequently, was flooded. Then last night, on account of the rain, I guess, the river broke through again, making a wide, deep channel into the sea and emptying the lagoon. So it goes. The sea will again dam up the river mouth, and again the river will break through. When the river is flowing into the bay, you have to wade across it to reach the beach, the playa. Just another adventurous aspect of living here.

Adios for now.

Mornings in Yelapa

Finally getting to my blog since arriving in Yelapa, Jalisco, Mexico, last Saturday. We're well settled in by now, comfortably set up in the Casa Emilio where we have the same little apartment above our landlady's house in the jungle above the village that we rented last year. It feels like home; that we never left it.

Our 20-year-old daughter Alicia is with us for two weeks (one week almost gone already), and she sorely misses her boyfriend Adam, whom she left back in Nelson, B.C. Spends a good deal of her time on the Net, emailing him, and in addition spends her money on phone cards so they can hear each other's voices.

Almost from the moment we stepped onto the pier in the central village we began to meet old friends and acquantances, gringo and native alike. Everybody friendly, everybody welcoming. This is our third year here, and we're beginning to feel like, and be accepted as, Yelapanos.

The weather's fine, warmer than last year at this time. As the season progresses, of course, it'll get warmer, until by the end of March, when we're ready to leave, it'll be good and hot.

But I've titled this Mornings in Yelapa, and they are lovely. At the inkling of first light, the roosters start up all around us. We try for more sleep until about eight, when it's completely light and the sun is peeping over the mountains. Then we throw open the doors to the front and back balconies and prepare and eat our breakfast on the back balcony, where we have a little kitchen, including a new four-burner gas stove this year (replacing the two-burner electric hotplate we had last year). Then we pull open the trap door that shuts us in at night, so that my wife and daughter can climb down the ladder to the ground and sally forth to what and wherever while I stay home and write until lunchtime.

We eat our first two meals "in," then the evening meal, usually, "out" -- that is, in one of Yelapa's several restaurants, where often there's music provided by the several musicians in town.

Back at our casita, all three of us write up our journals, then read for a time before turning in to the sound of insects in the jungle, barking dogs and yowling cats periodically, and sometimes very loud Mexican music.

The above picture is of part of the central village as seen from the pier.