December 10 – December 17, 2024

The Quiet

Lying in bed. Reading. Comfortable. Quiet. Serene.  The evening sky slowly darkening. The ceiling fan faintly whirring in the background.  Then BOOM. Four minutes later BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. Fifteen minutes later KA–BOOM (practically shaking the walls). 

This is the evening routine. The locals set off “cohetes” (firecrackers) and “bombas” (enormous firecrackers) nightly.  They could be warding off evil spirits, honoring patron saints, celebrating a pilgrimage, festival or an event. It’s a centuries-long cultural practice deeply rooted in their history, and is considered a way to connect with their heritage. Or they could just be entertaining themselves. 

All I know is the periodic BOOMS continue at different intervals, sometimes even overnight, (3 and 6 am). And yes, they do wake us up. It’s just another reminder that we’re in Mexico, right where we want to be. 

Time is on our side (or is it?)

In many parts of Mexico, the actual time of day is somewhat irrelevant. For instance, the posted hours for a restaurant or store are somewhat meaningless. The locals run on what is sometimes called “Mexican time”, which means whatever works best that day, is how it will be.  But here in Lo de Marcos, it’s taken to a whole new level.

The State Line

You see, when you cross the state line from Jalisco into Nayarit, you lose an hour. This seems straightforward and simple enough.  However, we learned that the towns and villages just north of the state line still like to stay on the neighboring Jalisco time. 

Many tourists frequent the coastline here, and I suppose they found it more convenient to stay on the same clock as the airport in Jalisco, to the south. Probably too many tourists were messing up their flights home. 

Where to Begin?

The trick is, if you’re not using the actual state line for your time change, where does the time change start?  Well, our northbound driver told us the time change starts in Lo de Marcos, our destination. Good enough.

Come to find out our iPhone and Apple Watch didn’t get the memo. Which seems like a huge glitch in the matrix. How can the all-knowing Apple iPhone not have the correct time?  

So, because of this confusing state of affairs, we never really know exactly what time it is.  Fortunately this works for us, since we are vacationing in a sleepy beachside village in Mexico.  It’s all part of the authentic experience I guess. 

The Zócalo

Every Mexican town has a Zócalo.  It’s the main square, the heart of the city, a gathering place, a place of festivals and celebrations. It’s a place to see and be seen. The whole town hangs out, mostly on evenings and weekends.  Children run and play, teenagers flirt and gossip, and seniors relax on the many park benches. 

What does one expect to see in the Zócalo of a small Mexican village?  Well, typically you’d see an open area with tiled or concrete walkways surrounding a large, central Gazebo. The area is full of wrought iron park benches, and perhaps even some play equipment for the kids. You might see some huge, mature Ficus trees carved into animal shapes or an impressive border, and perhaps some beautiful, bright clematis vines and well-manicured flower beds.  

The Unexpected 

What you wouldn’t expect to see at the Zócalo, in a very small Mexican village, are a bunch of white-haired expats, many in cute little tennis outfits, playing Pickleball. Dozens of them running and sweating in the hot, Mexican sunshine.  

You would never anticipate that these resourceful old-folks (I can call them that because technically I’m one of them), would have somehow gotten the small, rather poor town to paint Pickleball courts on the pavement surrounding the center gazebo of their beloved Zócalo.  

But they did.  And apparently they enjoy rousing games of Pickleball every morning, while the non-players socialize and mill about. 

Will Wonders Never Cease

The discongruity of this scene was astounding. It was like someone dropped a group of well-off, country club laden senior pickleballers directly into the center square of a small, dusty, rather poor Mexican village.  

Good Times up North (of Puerto Vallarta)

We’ve been to Puerto Vallarta so many times I’ve lost count. On those trips we did venture north a few times, visiting some of the smaller villages. 

Once we even stayed several hours north, in the middle of nowhere, in some small townhouses that my mom somehow found.  It was an eventful trip, as we ended up kind-of getting in a car accident somewhere deep in the jungle, late in the afternoon. 

Indelibly Etched on my Mind

This terrible, no good, bad day happened back in (I’d guess) 1999.  My husband, Steve, and I were in our four-door rental car. Our two young boys and our niece sat three-across in the backseat. 

The kids were ages 5, 6, and 7 years old at the time.  We were hurrying back home along a two-lane, winding road through the lush jungle forest after spending the day at a crocodile reserve. 

We were trying to get back to our place before dark, since everyone knows gringos should not be driving in Mexico after dark.  It’s just a bad idea on many counts. 

That’s when the incident happened.  

Do the Right Thing

We pulled over like responsible citizens should (later we were told by locals that since no one was hurt we should have just immediately driven away from the scene). 

There was nothing but jungle for miles and miles, but there happened to be a very randomly placed building under construction right where we pulled over.  One of the construction workers hopped in his car and sped off.

Yes and Yes

Yes, the local police came quickly. Yes, they took away Steve’s car keys and wallet. Yes, we were stranded there, standing on the side of the small, windy road.  Yes, the small Datsun truck that was following us way too close and almost rear-ended us, but didn’t, now sat upside down on the edge of a cliff. 

More Yes’es

Yes, it definitely appeared that the couple from the flipped car were animatedly telling the police, who spoke no English whatsoever, a completely different story than what actually happened. And yes, I was sure they were about to take my husband into custody, leaving me and three small children stranded as darkness fell, in a foreign country, in the jungle, alone. 

Some No’s

This was a time of NO cell-phones.  NO texting.  NO way to communicate with the non-jungle world beyond where we stood. 

We’ve Got Nothing but Time

We spent hours waiting… for what, we didn’t know. Were the local police waiting for a bribe?  If we offered them a bribe would it solve everything, or would we be making our situation worse?  We weren’t sure, so we did nothing, just waited.  

Actually that’s not completely accurate. We waited and we inwardly panicked. My panic, in particular, was way off the charts.  We had to somehow act calm and collected, for the sake of the kids, but there was a definite undercurrent of panic going on. 

The Biting Ceratopogonidae

There were other issues too, like the No-see-um’s that came out as the sun set.  Their “real” name is Ceratopogonidae, which I had to look up.  Everyone just calls them No-see-ums.  

If you don’t know, No-see-ums are tiny flying insects that are incredibly difficult to spot, but their bite is fierce.  

When you combine small children with a long and hot day of outdoor activity, a couple of lengthy car rides, then make them stand on the side of the road for hours with no snacks, it’s a bad scene.  But then, if you for some insane reason, add in biting insects that you can’t even see, well, that basically sends things over the top. It’s a guaranteed recipe for just about the worst time ever.   

Los Federales

Around 7:30 pm the Policia Federal arrived in a huge black truck. By now it was pitch black.  At least the No-see-um’s were gone.  

A couple of Federales were in the cab, a couple more were standing in the back with huge machine guns.  These guys mean business. I about shat my pants. 

Suffice to say, the Federales ended up being the heroes of this story.  They quickly assessed the situation, thankfully decided we were not at fault, and sent us on our way.  

When they handed Steve his wallet and keys I almost fainted.   I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved in my life, or ever will be again. 

Bucerias 

On one of our long-ago excursions north of PV, we ended up in Bucerias for the day. Thing is, this was probably 25 years ago. That’s a lot of years. 

Bucerias of Old

Back then (wow, I’m dating myself again), Bucerias was just a small fishing village. To the best of my recollection, there were only a few tourists, like us, walking around the main street perusing the outdoor booths selling cheap trinkets, woven hats, and anklets made of shells.

I remember thinking, and may have even said to my husband, how I’d someday love to come and spend a few weeks in a small fishing village like Bucerias. 

How relaxing it would be to wake up every morning and walk down to the local marketplace to buy the day’s fruits and vegetables, with a quick stop down to the beach to buy some fresh fish directly from the local fisherman. 

Current Day

Fast forward twenty-five years and I’m researching Mexican destinations, looking for that idyllic Bucerias-like setting that no longer exists in Bucerias.  Growth, expats, and the bar scene have significantly impacted my little Bucerias of 25-years ago. 

Enter Lo de Marcos

Lo de Marcos is just far enough north of Puerto Vallarta that it’s still semi-untouched. There’s still an authentic feel to 90% of the town. 

It’s very small, with a year round population of ~2k. That being said, there’s a definite seasonal crowd that is made up primarily of Canadians and US citizens.  And there’s also a few long term expats, like Rick, who we met about an hour after we arrived that first day. 

The Expat Rick

Rick was sitting in his golf cart outside of Oscar’s restaurant. He’d just ordered take out for his wife and son. He noticed us standing, probably with that slight deer in the headlights look, considering we had just arrived in  town and were trying to figure out our best option for some dinner. 

Rick chatted us up for a while. Turns out he’s quite the interesting guy. He moved to Lo de Marcos 9 years ago with his wife after they retired. Then, at age 62, four years ago, he and his wife adopted a local baby boy.  

He lives up on the hillside overlooking town and the sea. He loves LDM, especially when all the seasonal folks and tourists leave town.  

Recommendations

Rick told us about several good restaurants in town. Unfortunately, he didn’t know any of the restaurants names or any of the street names in town, making his information a wee-bit less useful. At least we knew there were good restaurants to be found, we’d just have to find them. 

Thankfully,we were able to find one, based on his description of it being “in” an RV park on the main drag. And, for the record, the restaurant’s name is Tlaquepaque, and it serves incredible fajitas, just like Rick said.

I guess when you live in such a small town, names just aren’t that necessary. 

The Real Lo de Marcos

Lo de Marcos is a town with one main street. The street turns off the highway and ends at the ocean. It’s a street made of uneven, large stones that are dug halfway into the hard dirt. It’s by no means smooth or even flat, like a cobblestone street, but has a certain charm, nonetheless.  Because the stones are a bit too far apart, you can still clearly see the dirt road beneath, and it’s a bit dusty. 

Maybe half the other streets that make up the town are dirt.  There are paved sidewalks, but many are in a state of disrepair.  You need to keep an eye on where you’re stepping.  In stark contrast, the walkways in and around the Zócalo are wide, smooth, flat, and well maintained.  

Luis Echevarria 

And just like every Mexican town we’ve been to, the shopkeepers and restaurant owners along the main street of Luis Echevarria keep the sidewalk in front of their establishment pristine.  They sweep and mop regularly, always using a strong Clorox solution.  There is no trash or debris littered about.  

Most of the activity we see around town are locals going about their day, tending their kids, hanging laundry, or cruising by on an old, rusty bike. But probably at least half the time the locals (and expats) are buzzing around in golf carts, the preferred mode of transportation. 

Yum

There is a very definite presence of coffee shops and restaurants geared to us gringos. The big difference is these restaurants are not chains or fast food, but family-owned, with outstanding fare. They are mostly casual and quite reasonably priced too. 

Small & Quiet

And I’m very happy to report that there is only one small, tacky gift shop in town.  It’s there for the tourists who forgot their flip flops, need a blow up floaty for the beach, or a cheap Mexican trinket that likely was made in China.  

There’s no traffic, no crowds, and no waits at restaurants.  There are several food carts including a taco stand and a gourmet hot dog stand. All are very well attended.

There’s a chill vibe. Everyone is friendly and helpful. 

Of course, things may change as the holidays get closer, but as of December 15th, I’d say Lo de Marcos is kind of the opposite of any large, overrun-with-tourists Mexican town, which is a quite nice. 

Apartment 26B

We’re staying in a small one-bedroom apartment, #26B.  It’s through a large wrought iron gate at the end of a short, tiled alley. The alley is lined on one side by a wall full of drying laundry, the other side by a few apartment style homes.  Several of these homes have dogs that hang out and “guard” the alley (they actually just live in the alley, but we like to think they are guarding it).  One is a large black and white dog (mutt), the other is a tiny Chihuahua that is often wearing a small, white, slightly torn t-shirt.

The dogs have come to know us.  I guess we passed their sniff test (thankfully).  They are sweet dogs, but they leave us doggy poop bombs all over the alley.  Yeah, we aren’t too fond of that part. 

La Playa (The Beach)

Lo de Marcos has a lovely, litter-free, expansive beach.  It’s insanely uncrowded on weekdays.  It’s slightly more inhabited on a beautiful weekend afternoon, but it’s still easy to plop down a football field or more away from anyone else. 

Surfers cluster at the far southern end of the beach, where the surfing is best. I could watch them for hours. The waves are explosive and spectacular, even in the area without surfers, often reaching 3 to 5 feet.

The Neighborhood

Our neighborhood (what I’m calling probably half the town, south of main street), is a varied hodge-podge of residences.  

Many buildings look like they could use some renovations just to be livable.  Others are small, but well-maintained with fresh paint in bright colors and hanging plants out front. There’s also quite a few Se Vende (for sale) signs, and most of these would definitely be in the “fixer-upper” category.  

We’ve seen several makeshift wood burning stoves in front of people’s homes.  I can’t be sure, but I’m thinking this may be their primary kitchen.

The stoves are situated between the sidewalk and the street, just outside the front door, and we typically see them used for grilling meat or boiling a large pot. 

Trucks with Treats

There’s also the common practice, as seen throughout Mexico, of a family or farmer cruising through the streets blaring their sales pitch, all in Spanish of course. We’ve seen the watermelon truck several times, as well as a family selling tamales from their vehicle. But more often than not, we have no idea what they’re selling because we don’t know Spanish. lol

Inevitable Change

Lo de Marcos is changing though, and probably won’t stay so innocent or authentic for much longer. As more tourists head north of Puerto Vallarta for the “real Mexico” experience, it’s bound to grow and change, just like Bucerias and many others before it have.  Nine years ago, when our new friend Rick moved to Lo de Marcos, he said no one spoke any English. I can only imagine how sleepy and small it was then.  

Today it’s easy enough to get by without Spanish here. Probably half the locals speak at least some English and most menus we’ve seen have an English and Spanish side.  

Feliz Navidad

And finally, on our last day in town, it feels Christmassy. The town finally put up the Xmas decorations in the Zócalo, and more restaurants have also done so.  

As we sit at the Water Man Cafe next to a cute snowman on a pillar, listening to The First Noel, on December 16th, I’m struck at how the Christmas decor starts the very day after Thanksgiving at home. No rush here. Must be that beachy chill vibe.

Pros & Cons

The Pros

My new hobby: watching 4 to 6 pelicans cruise in formation skimming the surf. They then soar up high to a climax, suddenly stopping mid-air, then dropping, as if they just ran out of gas.  Their streamlined bodies go into a bullet-like free-fall, diving gracefully into the sea with a tiny splash.  My very favorite is when four dive-bomb in a synchronized fall, or when they sequentially drop in quick succession. They just call it fishing in bird language, but to me it’s a gorgeous ballet. 

The Real Deal: Oscar’s tacos and Tlaquepaque’s fajitas.  Oh my gawd.  Seriously, so good. 

A Food Find! Not much alternative food options here… but we actually found some freshly made Gluten Free bread that was amazing! Made some wonderful breakfast toast with peanut butter & honey!

Beach Supplies: An Airbnb that provides two Tommy Bahama adjustable lounger chairs and a big, very functional beach umbrella. So nice!

The Cons

Mosquito’s Anyone? Right after dinner on our very first evening, we were abruptly and unexpectedly doused with some strong mosquito insecticide by a fast moving city truck as we sat, innocently enough, at our table at the open-air end of a restaurant.  Then, walking home, that same mosquito-spray truck appeared and got us again!  Seriously, that was a bummer.

Run in Circles, Scream and Shout – Teeny-tiny ants kept appearing on the wall just above my head in the bedroom. Lots and lots of them. And I think they possessed some extraordinary intelligence because when I would squish one, they all would freak out and quickly scurry in every direction as if in a mad panic.  Some even got confused and ran in circles. Not sure if they were screaming and shouting though. 

Next Up…San Francisco (or better known as San Pancho)