The day we ported in Puerto Vallarta was one of the best days of my life. I'm ready to move to this city. Today.
Puerto Vallarta is shiny and blue and hot. Parts of it seem more American, since it has a Walmart, Burger King, Starbucks, etc... but it also has a deliciously Mexican old town.
All of the churches are just beautiful.
Whatever this building is, I want to live in it.
Mexicans stake out territory all along the promenade and make truly epic sand sculptures, and then put out little cardboard boxes with slits in the top for tips.
This guy balances rocks. I have no idea how he does it.
One of the best things about Mexico is the streets. I just love them.
This is Carlos. He was the salesman in a china shop that we stopped in. He was literally in love with dishes, and after helping us buy excessively, he ended up taking us up the road and showing us all of the best spots to eat, etc. By the way--another thing I love about Mexico is that the guys wear white pants. I'm telling you, that doesn't happen enough around here.
According to Carlos' directions, we went to the upstairs portion of a flea market, which contained a bunch of tiny, dirty little kitchens. There were curvy Mexican mamas slapping tortillas into being, random dead fish lying beadily in boxes of ice, and a singular lack of anyone with white skin. My kinda place.
I had a sudden, violent craving for a coke, and so I bought one in an alluring glass bottle. Glass bottles are the best. Plus, Mexican coke has real sugar, which makes it way yummier.
Eat a real, slightly dangerous meal in Mexico. Checked off my bucket list.
Bethany was very uncomfortable with the whole situation and kept a sharp eye on our waitress. She says that she grabbed those beady fish and then served more food. But we didn't die, so it's all good.
I'm also going to live here.
I love all of the wrought-iron on the windows and doors. And the intense colors. The inside of this doorway was yellow, the outside aqua, and the door itself was red. Now you know why I should live here. :)
Another amazing church.
Drink a real strawberry margarita. Check.
Bethany enjoyed the margarita much more than the questionable tacos, and perked up pretty well. There are very few things she loves about Mexico, actually. It is everything that I love--colorful, loud, crowded, intense, reckless, spontaneous, with friendly, dark-skinned people. She prefers black-and-white, silence, solitude, no surprises, and cool, pale, and distant people. ; ) Sometimes it's confusing how we're sisters...
Guacamole. Oh, yes.
Back on the ship we... uh, ate more. : ) I swear that some of the Indonesian waiters' goals in life are to make girls fat. One particular guy at breakfast kept making us eat more and more pastries.
Notice the difference between our breakfasts?
Yep, this is how I roll.
I think we had this every single breakfast--fresh-squeezed orange juice, which makes the gross weak pulpy stuff hide its face in shame.
Well, there's enough more photos for one last huge post... which will include something special for YOU!