The Last Picture Show

SOME PHOTOS I TOOK FOR THE LOVE OF THE SPORT:


I loved the shape of the beach umbrella and the young couple sharing a moment in its shade. I was sorry to note she was a smoker. I did that, quit that. It's an albatross. It doesn't make the moment better. It doesn't solve problems. The paraphernalia required requires something to tote it around in all the time. It's a waste of her time on this lovely planet. What? Too preachy?


Another lady in a hat. This one is from Greece. I love her; she completes my son. She also taught me how to play water volley ball the right way: With fingertips,European style. She's camera shy, but the boldest computer gal I know.



Hats on women at the beach, at the pool and in a fishing boat. What's with me and ladies in hats? She's watching me from the water. I'm watching her from the shore. We're worlds apart--or are we? I especially love hats with wide brims. Ahoy sister!

Below, a man reads a letter he finds amusing, while his wife and daughter chatter away across him unheard. I love watching folks involved in their lives. I also love the kiosk selling colorful pareos, beaded necklaces and straw bags. I didn't buy any; my cup runneth over.




I liked the rocks and the couple preparing their fishing rods. When I went into the water to get closer to see the crabs Jorgia had found sunning there, the colors were wonderful--rust, gold, blue, slate gray with tiny flecks of red. Marvelous. So beautiful, they were a picture all by themselves, (not shown), The crabs were gone though. Either the sun was going down, so they went too? Or they were in that couple's bucket?


The lily pond at the Grand Velas. Elegant. A future drawing perhaps?


If business doesn't pick up, this guy better watch out. I've got my eye on his job. Hanging out with friends, waiting for the world to stroll by and rent his jet skies, I could do it in a flash. Nah, then I couldn't do this.





A WELCOME HOME SUNSET. We're back to reality and tomorrow is going to be a pretty new day.

Wrapping It Up

During our three full days at the Grand Velas, I did three drawings (for a total of eight in all): Pool Umbrella and Towel Flower are the last two.





When I wasn't painting, Honey and I just enjoyed the resort.


We ate breakfast in our suite,(first time in a long time). The suite, with its large living room, covered balcony, king-sized master bedroom with granite bath and enough closet space to house three more suitcases of resort wear, was conducive to room service. The room was so lovely, we could have moved right in--we really could have IF we bought some weeks; The hotel was also a timeshare. We heard all the pricey details from timeshare owner Sheila from LA and her friend Chuck from Minnesota, a couple we met at the pool. (Now, what do you think was going on there)?

The three restaurants, (French, Spanish and Italian), were excellent, on a par with The Hacienda. No shorts allowed. No collarless shirts. Beautiful, sophisticated decors--lots of design ideas for this architectural space planner. The first three nights, we dressed for dinner at our reserved time. The night before we left, we were back at the restaurant on the beach in our shorts happily dining and watching the sunset through the glass partitions. It wasn't a great one, but I managed to click a pretty fair photo just as the last, most brilliant rays broke through the clouds to say good night.

The Grand Velas, Nayarit is A Real Treat

What did I tell you. Honey is a hotel freak. And he'd found a great one: Architecturally magnificent and very hospitable. The Grand Velas Nayarit is a wow.

What did I tell you. I'm a pool freak. This was a pool you could swim in,sun in, play ball in or join the water aerobics class. You could also ignore the group activity tier and stare out at the beach and the bay from the infinity edge of the middle tier or the lowest tier with the swim-up bar. These were pool photos for my collection--some people collect ceramic elephants, I collect photos of the best pool designs I've seen on our travels. I mount and display them in our bath right outside the shower to remind me every morning of why we go to work. Every morning, they make me smile.

I spent our first morning at the Grand Velas taking pool pictures from every angle while Honey found our place in the shade.



There were several of these extended group palapas around the pool in addition to some very high-tech looking umbrellas. Shade lovers were expected and welcome. Honey and I settled down in the palapa closest to the bano and the glass enclosed casual eatery on the beach. No more miles to walk to pee. No towels to get or take back; the lounges were all set up and the beach crew stripped them bare every evening. If you needed more, the constantly circulating service people would bring them to you plus anything else you may want. This place was luxurious.

So busy was I familiarizing myself with my new surroundings, I couldn't zero in on anything around me to draw. From memory, I painted a beautiful burgundy red plant I'd seen in the Westin's gardens.

HAPPY CINCO DE MAYO!
Today, I go to see Doctor Mayo about my knee. Poetic yes?

Last Day Westin; Hello Grand Velas

Last day at the Westin, there was another lady with another hat just like the lady in the first hat. This one was restless. First her legs were down. Then they were up. Then down. What was it going to be lady? Relax. Unwind. Vacate your mind, you're on vacation!
She finally settled on one up and one down, but who knew for how long? I painted quickly.





Last day for a rousing water volley ball game with Mr. Wilson II with four players, a treat for Honey and me who had only played alone. Jorgia asserted rules into the game. We had to return the ball without smacking it-- fingertips only--no palms--silently--professional European style. I tried, but reverted to palms; my nails were too long.

No photos taken of that fun. No one was around to ask the favor. This was the off season. The spring breakers and their parents had all gone home. The pool was nearly deserted. Tomorrow there would be four less.

Our last day on the beach, Miguel and Jorgia rented a pergola to soak up as much sun as possible to take back to Seattle. We stayed under the protection of the Ficus tree. We were leaving the next day too, but not for home. We were going up the road a piece to the Grand Velas, an all inclusive hotel fifteen minutes the other side of the airport in Nuevo Vallarta, for some upscale fun in the sun.

The hotel change had been a last minute decision. A friend had said before we left that 12 days was too long in PV. Taking her at her word, a week before departure, we booked the Grand Velas for the last four days of our trip. I was looking forward to it.

The Westin, while being the best hotel in PV and certainly an excellent bargain,($1,300 for eight nights, off season, Expedia), needed renovation. While the rooms were fine, the bathrooms needed work. Updating--more than the euro style shower enclosure--like a new soap dish that wasn't black, a small grid, non skid tile floor and a single valve system. While the gardens were lush, the pool needed painting; it looked tired. As baths and pools are me, hotels with service amenities are Honey. Without the Royal Beach Club, the Westin didn't make his cut. Without the timeshare facilities next door open to guests and the pool left as is, the hotel didn't make mine. (There's some sort of feud going on between the properties and the Westin built a barrier fence with big gates. Open now, but who knows when guys are feuding)? I was looking forward to seeing Honey's Nayarit selection. It was going to be good; he's not into camping.


Courtesy of the great gobs of money we saved at the Westin, The next afternoon, I was looking over the balcony rail of our new, fully air conditioned digs in the very pricey high-tech Grand Velas, I thought, "Now there's a pool. A three-tier-infinity- chemically-balanced-with-no-yellow-signs-of-chlorine-depletion-in-the-water beauty". I hoisted my bathing suit up (was it getting a bit snug)? and slipped into my flip-flops.

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.

Not to be Missed

These are the photos camera enthusiasts come to Puerto Vallarta to take. I didn't take them. I had to upload them from the Puerto Vallarta web site and Yahoo Travel. Limping as I was, my soccer injury, (better than just a bum knee),kept me back from seeing what I would have loved to have seen. But these are the photos that will bring me back to this charming old town, originally called Las Penas, founded in 1859 and renamed Puerto Vallarta after the first governor of Jalisco,Ignacio Vallarta. I won't be content till I've snapped them myself.

What I did see of The Lady of Guadalupe Cathedral, the hub of the town's activities, was the very beautiful top of it from a must go restaurant: Hacienda San Angel.

The Hacienda San Angelis comprised of five Mexican Villas. Villa I, Bursus, was the house Richard Burton gifted his wife Susan (not Liz) for Valentine's Day. Richard Burton, (a movie star from the past and long gone), was brought to PV by John Huston in 1964 to film The Night of the Iguana with Ava Gardner and Deborah Kerr, a movie I didn't particularly care for--too slow--like the pace of the town back then. He also brought along his wife-to-be, Liz Taylor. The two were the Brad and Angelina of their time. Their affair put Puerto Vallarta on the map and the pace of life in PV picked up after that.

COME ON IN WITH US


There are 16 rooms in this boutique hotel (of the world),all very pricey. As was our dinner. But the cuisine,the romantic atmosphere, the breathtaking views of the city and bay, and the concert performance of the mariachi orchestra--not band--orchestra--with impressively talented performers with a repertoire more sophisticated than Quanta Lamera--were well worth every peso. This is a place you will want to wear your most romantic sundress-something bare and silky and breezy that flutters about your knees provocatively as you walk. This is a place you wish you could still wear such a dress.

SOME PH0TOS JORGIA AND I TOOK OF THIS MUST VISIT DELIGHT:




There is much more to see in this Hacienda after being serenaded, wined and dined on the grande balcony. As we left, I took a peek at the elaborate Roman style lap pool (pools are me) and walked through an intimate dining room with antique Spanish furnishings and a very old wet bar, (quite amusing for this kitchen designer). I would have liked to have toured the rest of the place, but my dearests were anxious to hit the streets.

After putting mom and pop in a cab back to the mundane world of the Westin, Miguel and Jorgia braved the steep hill down to the Malecon, the boardwalk along Banderas Bay lined with shops in thee shopping district of the town and explored the square in front of the cathedral. I missed it all this trip, but not the next. Don't you miss it; cut the squats.

Lady in The Hat

The lady in the hat's lounge was in front of mine in the sunny row. The hat was the only evidence I could see that someone was sitting there. The hat wasn't moving, so
I chose it as my object of interest and set to work.

When her sister came along and saw what I was doing. We struck up a conversation. She and her sister and their husbands were at the timeshare; they had traded their week somewhere else for the week in PV. The units were very nice. Two master bedrooms and baths with a great room and kitchen in between.The shower had one valve and the floor wasn't a slip and fall accident waiting to happen. She was from Manhattan and her sister had been too, but moved to Florida last year--Delray Beach I think? This trip was a reunion. Both women read a lot; their husbands played golf in the mornings and joined them at the pool in the afternoons. Both sisters were reading a romance novel. I was reading Stephen King. That about ended the conversation for the moment.



You meet a lot of folks when you paint in plein aire,(the Impressionists' description of painting outside). They come over and start to chat and watch while you work. The attention is inhibiting--I usually stop. I don't like people looking over my shoulders at unfinished work which may or may not be going along nicely. Everybody always says, "Oh that's just wonderful", but it may not be wonderful yet. So I turn the conversation to them and in most cases we end up buddies for a brief while enjoying an encounter on the beach. Names are never important.

As for the paintings I did while I was away. I think Lady in The Hat was the best of the eight. The Pool Bar, you saw a few days ago, is the worst--over done. It's followed closely with the picture of the Excursion Hut--not painterly enough, the style's too graphic, nothing a few smears of water wouldn't cure. But good or bad in my opinion makes no difference when painting on the quick. My objective was the doing--and poolside really was a great place to do and meet people while I did.

The Stuff of Abstracts

While getting ready for bed, TV and my Spanish lesson, courtesy of old American movies with Spanish subtitles,I heard a loud boom. then another.

Fireworks!

I grabbed my camera, turned off the flash, clicked in the appropriate setting and stepped out on the balcony. This was the stuff of future paintings with a million color possibilities. This was the grand finale of a wedding on the beach--and our day too. From high above the festivities, I silently wished the newly weds all the best and particularly thanked whoever ordered the fireworks for this terrific photo op and months of abstract inspiration. (I've already had great fun playing with effects in Jasc photo album and pro 8. I can only image what fun it's going to be when I hit the paint pots and a couple of large canvases this summer).

Mole and Duck

On our first night out, Miguel y Jorgia wanted Mexican--in particular to eat at a place that served fantastic mole sauce. Dahlia, the concierge, recommended "El Arrayan. "El vestido (dress) es muy informal", she said. So after drinks, we jumped into our shorts and tees, agreed to pay the taxi driver eighty four pesos and headed off to town.


Puerto Vallarta es muy encantador, (charming) with narrow, one car only, cobblestone streets lined with casas with brightly colored doors,shutters, thatched or tiled roofs and balconies dripping with lush tropicals. We fell in love. Then we took a left turn.

The structures up the San Francisco steep street were less romantic. I got a bit nervous. "Where the hell was this guy taking us"? Then he stopped in front of one of the houses and said,"This is it." What was it? Then I saw the small, colorful, hand painted sign "El Arrayan". We got out. As the cab drove off up the street, I worried about getting home in the dark.


My worries lifted after we walked through the small door and I saw the Arrayan tree in the center of the small open courtyard the house was built around. It was charming. It was Mexican. It was colorful. On one side of the courtyard was the bar and cocina. Around the other sides, under the protection of the tiled roof, diners sat laughing and talking and drinking. Somewhere someone was strumming a guitar. I relaxed.

The mole sauce was fabulous--so fabulous that Miguel ordered extra. The duck, the specialty of the house, was wonderful too. Not at all fatty. There was a different sauce served with that that Jorgia and I enjoyed, but Honey didn't like the taste. Instead of the sauce being sweet, like you'd expect with duck in the states, this was not. Very interesting. I couldn't guess the ingredients. Maybe a little cumin? --But not enough to make it spicy.

Also interesting were the Mexican rugs decorating the walls. They weren't the ordinary rugs vendors hawk on the streets. They were special. From the symbols, I guessed they told a story.

This story ends back at the hotel when I looked up El Arrayan in
Fodor's Vallarta 2010 and discovered it was starred "Fodor's Choice" for Mexican. I penned my star next to the travel maven's. This restaurant wasn't on either of the lists our friends had given us; it was our discovery. (Mucho gracias to Dahlia).