In 1998, I signed up to go to Ann's painting workshop in Sayulita, Mexico, a small fishing village north of Puerto Vallarta.
I was really excited about the trip. I got all my painting equipments and supplies ready and packed a few of my clothes.
I said good-bye to my husband, "See you in two weeks."
I had made arrangements to meet with a lady from Kansas. We were to fly together to Puerto Vallarta, then take a taxi to this small fishing village, about an hour's ride north.
I flew to Houston, met Marge at the airport and we boarded the plane, separately, since she was flying standby.
The plane took off.
Soon the stewardess came by and said to me, "Your friend told me to tell you that she had been bumped off."
I looked at her in disbelief.
I am on my own!
Ann had given me instructions as how to take a taxi from the airport to Sayulita. I had memorized it.
I guess I had to do this by myself.
I don't speak Mexican. But I said to myself, I can do this.
As we got closer to Mexico, I started to feel uneasy.
There was a nice young man, apparently from Mexico, sitting across the isle from me. So, I asked him if he knew anything about Sayulita. He said Yes, he did. He was actually from a neighboring region. He said that he had been to Houston for some business and he was going home.
Then, he asked me what was I going to do in Sayalita and how was I going to get there.
I told him that I was going to a Painting workshop.
I had little knowledge of the place since I could not find much information about this little fishing village at that time. And I was to take a Taxi.
He said that he was going that direction and could possibly give me a ride. But he had to ask his friend, who was sitting in the front some rows ahead of us.
The plane was approaching the airport. We were descending.
He said for me to meet him inside the airport after we landed and he then would be able to tell me whether he could give me a ride or not.
So I said, "Good, I will see you on the ground."
He told me his name was Roberto.
Puerto Vallarta had a very simple airport at that time, a steel building with no frills.
I saw Roberto.
"We will give you a lift." he said.
He helped me with my suitcases.
Then, he and his friend led the way to the parking lot. There was a car waiting for them. There was a husky Mexican. Their friend?
He was the driver.
They crammed my luggage, together with theirs in the trunk. And the four of us got into the small car.
Ann had told me that after I left the airport, I should turn Left.
Roberto's driver turned Right.
Roberto and his friend said that they needed to find an ATM machine.
So, we headed Right, and drove on.
I told myself not to panic. Be Calm.
We drove for quit a while. Finally, there was an ATM machine. So Roberto and his friend got some money from the machine.
Then the car turned around, we were heading Left.
I heaved a sigh of relief silently.
Roberto and his friends talked in Mexican. I could not understand a word.
I said to myself, at least we were heading in the right direction.
Roberto asked me if I was hungry. Would I like to stop and have something to eat?
"I am fine," I said.
I was hungry, but I wanted to get to Sayulita as soon as possible. I did not want any detours!
So we drove on, through mountains on a winding two lane highway, with very few towns along the way.
There was a roadside restaurant - if you can call it that. It was a shack.
The car stopped. Roberto and his friends said that they were hungry and needed food. So we went into this open air shed. Roberto asked me again if I would like something to eat.
"No, thank you," I said.
I did not want to be sick the first day in Mexico.
"How about something to drink?" he said.
"A soft drink would be fine," I said. I thought a bottle of coke would be safe.
Robert and his friends had some seafood which looked absolutely delicious. I was hungry, but I kept a poker face.
When my coke came, the bottle looked like it had been around a decade or so. I gingerly wiped the lime around the rim and drank from the bottle.
"You look worried," Roberto said.
I did not know what to say. I tried a smile.
"Don't worry, we will get you to Sayulita," he assured me.
Then he told me that he was an attorney, visiting a University in Houston, and now, returning home.
I smiled at him and told him, "Thank You."
After the meal, we drove and drove and drove. I wanted to shout, "where is Sayulita?"
Finally, there was a sign pointing to the left, 3 kilometers to Sayulita. I was relieved.
So we drove into the town square.
It was a good thing that Roberto and his friends were with me.
No one at the square spoke English. No one could tell me where this hotel was - the hotel where I was to spend the next two weeks. Finally, we found an office. There was a gringo sitting on the front door step. I asked him if he knew where Villa Amor was. He pointed to the top of the hill and said, "It's up there."
"I can take you there," he said.
Turned out the towns people did not like Villa Amor - American owned, that was why no one would tell me where it was.
So, we left Roberto's friend in town, the gringo got into the car with Roberto and me. The car was not big enough to hold all five of us.
The driver started the car. We went up and up and up - to the top of the hill - a small mountain really.
Yes, I finally got to Villa Amor.
When I asked where my room was to be, the proprietor pointed downward, near the beach.
"There," he said.
I thanked Roberto and his driver and the gringo, said my good-bye to them, and followed a skinny kid who had heaved my suitcases on his back and was swiftly on his way down the hundred some stone steps towards my room.
I made it down those rough stone steps, with no railings. Of course, my little "porter" had to wait for me for a while.
Thus, I began my two weeks' stay in a Tree House in Mexico.
I went to bed hungry that night. I did not dare venture out to town in the dark by myself.
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