Taxco, Mexico. Plein air.

Plein air.

Taxco, Mexico. Plein air.

I am lured by the once brightly painted boats that line the beach in Acapulco. The fishermen are applying C.P.R. to their wooden crafts which appear to suffer from terminal neglect. These boats contrast in my memory to the incandescently-coloured, beautifully-maintained boats that I envied along the shoreline in Percé, Quebec. The Mexican boats seem to blend with the murky colours of the smog-laden harbour, and the casual attention of their owners echo the lazy surf that gently massages the sand.

The dappled light by the beach enhanced the pleasure of the soft breeze coming from the ocean. I was in need of a little relief as we had found earlier in the day that our hotel reservation had been co-opted by the security services that were travelling with Queen Elizabeth. The lodging problem was resolved and I headed to the beach, not to the street as my wife did to get a glimpse of the Queen in a parade.

When we arrived the second time in Acapulco in 1993, we were immediately inundated by people who doggedly followed us from the immigration area into the heart of the town one-half mile away. These independent business types would not accept a polite “no” from us to the crafts and tourist trinkets that they proffered. Finally, contrary to my Mennonite upbringing, and I suppose my personality, I yelled at this small brown man that I did not want his stuff nor did I seek his company. My wife was stunned by my outburst. Years later in Marrakesh, I found it necessary to do an encore.

The economy of this small town is expanding rapidly due to the increase in the number of cruise ships that now visit. What was once a sleepy town, baking under the Mexican sun is now being overrun by gringos looking for bargains. Surprise! There are none.

As I travel from time to time, I happen upon small, quirky things such as this burro painted on the wall of a pub in Mexico. This creative bit is as eccentric as the fast food restaurant in North Carolina built to resemble a woman’s skirt or the holes drilled in the fence surrounding a bar in Key West with its sign instructing the viewer to peer through to get a view of New York City.

A cold beer from a Mexican sidewalk stand appeals greatly. This walk-up and stand-up style of bar is quite popular in tropical places where people often have a drink on the run. These bars often sell food as well, such as tacos or Chile con carne. Places like these are probably not good for the waist line but are great for the attitude.

As a non-shopper, I have lots of time to observe the gathering activity of women, mostly as they stream down the gang plank of a cruise ship, their eyes locked on the row of shops conveniently located for their fun. I thought that I should include a man standing on the sidewalk, a symbol for the rest of us men who were gathered at an outdoor bar across the square.