Mazatlán - Not Too Bad ~ Derek's Travels

Another four or five hour bus ride, accompanied with some bad movies dubbed in Spanish, a few random stops along the way, and I had arrived in the formerly sleepy fishing town of Mazatlan. Once a tiny little place on the coast, it has become a bit of a tourist destination, though it still has a long way to go to become a resort town. I arrived just after dark, telling the taxi driver to take me to one of the cheaper hotels that I had read about in my Lonely Planet guidebook. Side note: I hate the fact that I am one of the many, many travelers using Lonely Planet, as it is too popular and widely used, resulting in the same places being crowded with travelers who read the exact same reviews, yet the maps and hotel information are indispensable, so I guess I can´t complain too much. Nevertheless, my taxi driver seemed to think that he could get me some better deals, first in a bad area of town, then a little closer to where I wanted to be. As it turned out, I went with his third option, a cheap, decent hotel in between the beach and the scenic old town. Finding most places closed for the evening, I wandered the dark streets of my new neighborhood, finally finding a local family with a grill and hotdog stand set up in their driveway, where I had a decent hamburger and fries before heading in for the night.

The next morning, I lathered up with sunscreen, grabbed my small yet heavy, omnipresent backpack with all of my important possessions such as my passport and camera, and I started trekking through the sun-drenched town. Within an hour or two, the sun was bearing down on me, sweat soaking through my shirt, making my way along the waterfront in the high 90 degree heat and humidity. Wanting to see what I could of the town, I walked up and down the main streets, finding the tourist zone, the fishermen, and everything in between. The smell of fish permeated the town, small boats lined the waterfront and restaurants offered every sort of seafood combination imaginable. After hours and hours of walking, I came to the edge of Old Mazatlan, around a rocky outcrop from which cliff divers climb a small platform and jump into the sea below, trying to make a bit of money from passing tourists. As I arrived, the divers were nowhere to be found, so I walked amongst the sculptures and up a strange staircase with no rails, leading to a bench about 50 feet up, overlooking the water and rocks below. While relaxing on the bench, one of the locals calmly walked up the stairs next to me and began shouting something to what I thought was a friend across the street. He then proceeded to walk along the back of the bench, looking over the edge of the rock. As I looked up, I realized that a crowd had gathered, and I was in for a close up view of the dive. Not nearly as impressive as the cliff divers from Acapulco, this guy and his partner that arrived shortly after were still enough to draw a decent sized crowd, as they sprung into the shallow pool among the jagged rocks below. They quickly jumped back out of the water, hoping to collect tips before the group of tourists dispersed. Heading back down the stairs, I got back to the street just as the gathering was breaking up, though the younger of the two cliff divers seemed to want to practice his English with me. So, the diver, in his early 20s, first showed me the scars on his hands from his dangerous occupation and told me all about a few close encounters with the rocks and the shallow ocean floor below. Then, he began to get a bit more into his personal life, telling me how his wife just left him two days earlier. Initially, he claimed that she didn't even say why she was leaving, but he later revealed that they had already discussed the reasons. The first being him flirting with and looking at other women, which he claims is part of his job in order to get better tips. He also mentioned the fact that he didn't really like to work, other than the diving, and the third issue was his drug problem, so I guess her leaving actually wasn't unprovoked, though I still felt sorry for the guy. He told me that he still loved her, and he was going to wait it out, hoping that she'd soon return to the house. Eventually, I had to leave him behind, but I found it interesting to get the real life story behind the tourist attraction of the city.

My next stop was Old Mazatlan, an area of some decent looking pastel colored buildings (thought not as nice as Bermuda's) and hidden plazas covered in trees, lined with benches and intimate cafes. Still fighting the blistering heat, I gave in when I saw an appealing ice cream shop on the corner, and I sat in the pleasant, narrow plaza, watching the people and the birds go by. Eventually, I made it back to my hotel, exhausted from walking about 8 miles in the heat and humidity, all the while carrying my heavy backpack full of 'essentials.' After relaxing and showering, I walked around the picturesque boardwalk that night and couldn't resist the bright pink cotton candy that the vendors kept pushing on me. It wasn't the best or most fresh that I've ever had, but you can't really go wrong with sugar and food coloring. With my cotton candy in hand, I found a quiet spot to sit and watch the sunset over the water and fishing boats that lined the golden beaches of the city. All in all, Mazatlan is a relaxed, pleasant city with decent beaches, though there wasn't much more than a day or two of things for me to do, so I was once again back on the fairly comfortable buses the next morning, heading down to a tiny town called San Blas.