Fantasy at the Marina

Food. Good food. Lots of food--with no dieting allowed--is a major part of nearly everybody's vacation. The big conversation in the Club room over the breakfast buffet watching cruise ships come in was where are we going to dinner tonight? Downtown? The Marina? What do you feel like eating?





Who really knows at 8 AM what they're going to feel like eating at 8 PM? Honey and I and our traveling companions certainly didn't.

Aside from the reservations we made at the Hacienda the day we arrived, dinner was a spontaneous affair on our trip. We went when and where we wanted and didn't when we didn't. The first three nights, we didn't even make it out of the Club room. The hor d'ouvres, free flowing wine and champagne and our own great company was all we needed. Then we'd walk down to the beach, walk along the water's edge, look for seashells and watch the sunsets. No makeup. No hair. No fancy dress. No worries. Just us and the quiet roll of the tide coming in. Muy simpatico.

On the forth night,however, we had to venture out. We had to for the sake of tourism and our friends back home who had given us lists of places we would love.

Just after the cruise ships left port, we started out. Easy. We went to the Marina across the street and down a few blocks--where I did fall in love--with a boat. It was a ship really;it had radar on top and looked very ocean worthy. It had three stories, all were lighted up. I stood on the marina staring and fantasizing life on that million(s) dollar yacht. Drinks in the salon. Being rocked to sleep in the master stateroom, Teak or Brazilian something or other. Sunning on deck while my captain charted tomorrows course and the crew swabbed the decks. Then Honey pinched me. "Come on. Keep up." I thought I'd like to--with the Joneses who lived on that boat. But the Joneses turned out to be the Gonzaleses. A couple from Chicago we met on our restaurant stroll told us it belonged to a big-wig Mexican official. I could have guessed.



After scrutinizing several menus displayed in front of several eateries, we decided we weren't hungry for fancy food after all. We went back to the hotel bar and shared an order of enchiladas over nightcaps. Luis, our waiter from the poolside coffee shop, was in charge for the very first time and couldn't find where they kept anything behind the bar--like the wine. We helped out. Lots of laughs and camaraderie for folks who failed vacation dining and the PV Tourist Bureau.