Trapped at the Hotel Marsol

My body is aging while my heart stays young...one forgets how you may look to others without a mirror or window in Yelapa. Sometimes, I think I am still that bubbly young woman from the past when I scamper across the rocks full of energy, but when I catch a reflection of myself, I am stunned! Who is that strange wrinkled woman looking at me so intensely? I know I'm not on acid....so, it's something more insidious. An imposter has taken over my body! My own Night of the Living Dead!

I try to remember how I felt 30 years ago when I first landed in Mexico. I was newly separated from my husband of 10 years and pretty spunout. Nevertheless, I was a fully formed human. My mind had been made up about things. I thought I knew and had felt everything. I was in for a big surprise! Soon I would meet someone from Yelapa that would help jumpstart me on a woogie path of change. Goodby Toto, Goodby Kansas or in my case...Goodby Nebraska.

I came directly to PV from the flatlands where I had lived since the age of 3. It was 12 degrees below 0 when I left Lincoln in leathers and hightop boots. I had never been to Mexico and when I exited the plane in PV it was 88 degrees. I was stunned by the heat. It only took a couple days in PV for me to sink to new lows as I got hit by the wall of Montezuma's Revenge! I was chained to the Marsol Hotel for 3 weeks solid. Unable to move. Weak. Smelly. Not charming.

It was in this horrid space that I met one of my first Yelapa characters. He reminded me of a swashbucklling pirate, or an Omar Sharif with a delicate butterfly tattooed on his shoulder. He was acquainted with my friend that had invited me to visit her in Mexico. I was there with a Nebraska boyfriend who was a talented eccentric artist, but felt out of place in Puerto Vallarta. I had loved him madly back in Omaha, but here in Mexico it didn't feel right, but that's another story.  Al came to greet us but he got more than he bargained for that day.

We still laugh about our meeting so many years later...bonded at the Marsol Hotel with stained sheets and a broken toilet. The staff reported that we broke it, but it wasn't true. We were too sick to complain about the leak. The bill cost extra for the broken john...honestly. I tried to complain but the desk clerk threatened to call the police! Was I ever naive. I paid the bill and learned 3 new Spanish words...roto, policia, and lardon!

Eventually, my body began to acclimate to Mexican biotics and I was ready to journey across the sea on the Sombrero. I didn't know I could get so seasick. I learned one more Spanish word...mareado.