On Vacations

Everywhere Katherine goes she makes new friends. She just can't help herself.  Here she is making the sand coated chessmen on the Malecon in Puerto Vallarta break character.  We walked into restaurants we hadn't been in for over a year and the waiters remembered her and were happy to see her.  We walked into Cassandra Shaw's jewelry store on Basilia Badilla (sp?) and Ms. Shaw remembered her from the one and only other time we had set foot in the store.  I'm not exaggerating.  It's true.

We stopped at a street vendor's stand to check out a hand beaded dress and as we were walking away a local artist came up behind us, placed both palms on either side of his face and looked at Katherine and exclaimed, "My God, do you know how beautiful you are?"  She was nonplussed.  I have been saying that to her for years, but I never added the hands to both sides of my face touch.  I'll bet next time we go back that same artist will spy her walking down the street and run up and give her a hug.

What I'm saying is that our two weeks in PV with the Simmons was a lovely time.  The weather could not have been more perfect, although now that I'm back in Colorado I do have to worry constantly that I'm losing my tan.  The restaurants ranged from deplorable to spectacular (Las Palapas).  We spent one day on a food tour of the best street food in old town and I encourage anyone traveling to PV to do the same (check out Vallarta Eats).  Mostly, we got into a daily pattern and followed it.  Up at seven and to the gym by 7:30.  Workout till 8:45.  Walk the beach till 9:45.  Have coffee and scrounge a little breakfast and then out to the pool by 11.  Read until 3.  Shower, cool down, and hang out until time to grab a bus downtown or to some local village (Ixapa, Punta de Mita) for dinner.  Back home and in bed by ten.

Here's the rub.  I have mixed feelings about the whole vacation thing.  Usually the first thing I think when the plane touches down for a two week stay is that "In just thirteen more days I get to go home!"  I know that sounds grouchy, but I can't help it.  Jenny Lake is the only place where I don't end up counting the days, hours, and minutes until I get to leave.  It just seems a little silly to spend all that money to basically do the same things I do at home:  read, eat, workout.  All the things I love most in the world (Katherine, hiking, kayaking, reading, writing, going to great restaurants, cooking) are within a half hour of my front door.  Why do I need anything more.

But then I feel the sun turning my body brown, hear the waves (being careful to watch out for the undertow) lapping against the beach, smell the carnitas wafting over old town, and see my wife loving it all and I end up having the time of my life.