Puerto Vallarta Log
A Most Unwelcome Welcome (Or, warning, Jen is about to rant and rave and this is
purely her one-sided opinion)
Actually, the title is a tad misleading. When I found out my father had been killed, I emailed Dick
Markie of the Paradise Village Marina and told him what had happened and that we needed to fly
to Costa Rica immediately. Even though the marina was fully booked Dick emailed back and said
"Just come in, we'll find a space." He did. I will be eternally thankful for Dick' s kindness. The
welcome from the marina was pleasant, the welcome that came later as not.
The story so far, my father has been killed in Costa Rica and I have to find a flight out of Puerto
Vallarta as soon as possible. Ew. I arrive in Puerto Vallarta and asked some people on the way if
there was a wireless connection nearby so that I could buy tickets. Whew! I was in luck, I was told
that there was a free wireless connection at the yacht club and if I didn't have a laptop I could
use the yacht club computers for a fee. Okay, bad me for believing them I suppose.
I was extremely pleased to know I could sit by the pool and buy tickets, email the morgue and
start all the administrative tasks that death involves. Didn't know that the Grim Reaper was a
bureaucrat did you? After our return from Costa Rica I made use of the wireless to continue the
tasks of death.
One night I was making dinner and Richard volunteered to go check our email so we could find
out how things were progressing. Richard returned madder than a wet hen. Now, I imagine,
never having seen one myself, a wet hen must be a pretty angry sight. I mean, feathers are a
real pain when wet ( no, don't ask how I know this). Apparently, while Richard was getting our
email by the marina pool (it was a lovely evening to be outside) it started hailing. Well, actually
the ice gods, that is someone from the yacht club, pelted him with chunks. Richard flew, well,
perhaps not actually flying, laptops are awkward little things to carry. Anyway, he went upstairs
into the yacht club and asked who had dumped their drink on him since it 1) hurt and 2) may
have damaged the laptop. Silence pardner. It was like those westerns where everyone avoids
the victims eyes.
We decided it must have been a thoughtless end of the night toss of a drink and let it go.
That is, we let it go until the morning net. For those without the super secret net knowledge I'll
explain. Every morning except Sunday all the cruisers in the Banderas Bay area conduct a net.
This is a radio meeting during which news, services and events are announced.
So, listening to the net. All of a sudden a male voice comes on and says, "I'm the guy who threw
ice at the fellow STEALING wireless last night. I apologize, but, my father taught me to pay for
what I use." Richard and I sat there stunned. STEALING??!!! The stupid service is free - right? I,
of course, burst into tears. ( Mind you I cry about everything lately.) I then attempt to refute the
accusation of the net, but, hysteria does not lend itself to eloquence and I pretty much ranted
incoherently. People on the net then go on about why someone would steal a service that was so
cheap. What service?! What fee!? Why did no one say, "Hey, did you know the yacht club
expects you to pay for the wireless connection?" BEFORE throwing things?
Appalled at being accused of being a thief, I go ask the marina office. Guess what, there is a fee
even though there are no signs telling about it nor is the connection encrypted. I ran to the yacht
club and asked to pay. Ohhhh, there is the sign. I don't know why I didn't see it before. (Heavy,
heavy sarcasm here) You walk upstairs, into the yacht club (of which I am not a member), open a
folder on a desk and inside the folder it says "Computer Use :$$" (not wireless use, but
computer use). Of course, how stupid of me.
I managed to get out, " I need to pay for .....waaaaaaaaaa!!!!" The yacht club staff were lovely
and deeply disturbed at this hysterical, crying woman who keeps insisting on giving them money.
( I did say I cry at the drop of a hat since my father's death didn't I ?) Gringos, we're so....
peculiar.
Look Richy, the popular kids are having a party and we aren't invited! When I grow up, people
won't act like they are in high school, will they? I think it safe to say that we felt extremely
unwelcome. We would overhear people heatedly discussing the incident and that horrible thief.
On certain parts of the dock no one will look at us, let alone talk to us. There are some lovely
people in Puerto Vallarta and I appreciate their friendship and kind wishes. But, to be honest, we
can't wait to leave. (Dude, I can't wait to graduate...)
Now, in response to the fellow who I call The Ice Man. Yes, I know who you are and what your
boat is called even though you never came forward. You made a really trying time even worse by
exhibiting no common sense. My Daddy taught me to ask questions before acting violently. It
must be nice to never be a stranger in a strange land, to never have been misled or
misunderstand.
I understand the yacht club is frustrated by people constantly using their connection without
paying. However, you are broadcasting into all the surrounding public places. It's like playing
your radio too loud and them demanding your neighbors pay for the privilege of listening to it.
The word for the day is ENCRYPTION.
Panga- monium
There are quite a few things that I like about Banderas Bay.
The bay is filled with humpback whales. It is also filled with small whale-watching boats called
pangas. Once a whale is sighted all the boats and pangas in the vicinity dash toward the whales,
circling them in a photo opt orgy. The whales make themselves know by blowing air, whacking
their tails or flippers against the water, or, my personal favorite, breaching. A breaching whale
basically launches its entire body straight up out of the water and returns in a huge splash. You
know, like taking a bath after Thanksgiving dinner.
The best is to see whales without the pangas around, buzzing like flies. I spotted a whale
launching itself and pointed wildly at it. "Hey, don't point, you'll alert the pangas!" Now, which is
more flashy, a five foot five smallish woman pointing, or, a several ton mammal spiraling
skyward? Well, I was wearing pink.......