NOTHING LIKE A DIY TO APPRECIATE TRAVEL AGENTS

You agents earn every dime you make! I’ve always known that but planning a three-month trip myself reminded me once again, how important your job is, and how time consuming.

It all began when a friend and former colleague asked us to dog sit her beloved pets in Mexico, while she went to Ireland. “Sure, I said we’d love to, let me talk to Tom”.
We talked about it, and decided, yes it was a great idea. Then I started thinking about air, and found return air to Puerto Vallarta with Air Transat. That sure beats flying to Mexico City, and then on to Guadalajara, and then on to a bus. “How far is Puerto Vallarta from Lake Chapala?” asked Tom.

“Oh a few hours on a bus, but it’ll be easier than flying through the US. I booked for three months!”

“Three months?” Can you find dog sits for that length of time?”

“Sure,” was my response, “lots of other people do it.” Well lots of people applied immediately to the few house-sits that were listed, and it became obvious that ex-pats needing sitters travel mostly in the summer, when it is nice in Canada.

I started to take more notice of distances between destinations. “I’m not taking a bus 11 hours for a three-day dog sit” said Tom. Good point.  “I also am not travelling on a rickety bus with chickens, and piglets and no air, to save money,” said the sometimes killjoy in my life.

So, I went back to the internet and to my guide books. In Canada, we don’t have a lot of choices in bus line companies. Mexico has at least 5, and a city like Mazatlán also has a choice of first class and second-class bus stations… I was confused and found it difficult to book over the internet, and had trouble getting anyone to answer the phones. I gave up and decided to wait till we got here.

The terminal in Puerto Vallarta was modern and clean, but I couldn’t get a schedule so we just turned up and had a three hour wait. The coach was the most luxurious one I’ve been on and the first-class buses provide a boxed lunch. I found out it is not nearly as nice as the second-class buses, where vendors hop on, sell their food, and hop off again at the next stop.

I booked an Airbnb for four nights in Puerto Vallarta. It delivered exactly what it promised, it was spotless, and had the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in, at $41 a night.

Tom looked at google earth and “Are you kidding me? It’s a dirt road with stone and broken concrete, and the apartment is three stories up.” That meant a gorgeous view of the nearby mountains but it took him a while after lugging three months-worth of bags up to appreciate this.

He also wasn’t keen on how each cabby took 10 minutes to figure out where they was taking us, even though we were just 10 minutes from the Malecon esplanade, which I recommend highly.

Next stop was the Barcelo Puerto Vallarta. Sheer luxury and a heated pool.
Then it was the big journey (7 hours) to Mazatlán. The scenery through the mountains was spectacular, and along the side of the highway just before Tepic were stands of fruit and veggies, and one stunning display of copper items for sale. I wanted off to shop.

Mazatlán was yet another Airbnb for nine days. It was advertised as large space with a dishwasher and one block from the Malecon. Our host were expected to meet us. It did specify stairs, but didn’t say third floor. No one met us, which is every guest’s biggest fear.

After an hour, another guest noticed us outside in the dark deserted street, and invited us in to his apartment while he tried to contact our host. No luck.

Half an hour later, with the suggestion of our rescuer, we found a close hotel on the Malecon. It was clean, bed was so-so, and glasses would have been nice. But not only did we hear the roar of the cars on the street, but there was nowhere to eat, or have a drink (who would think they all closed at 9 pm) without getting in a cab again.
An hour later the host and her assistant called asking where we were, they were waiting. We explained we were not moving again till morning. Our host apologized, said it had never happened before and would pay the hotel bill.

We should have left, called Airbnb and gotten our money back. The ‘block’ from the Malecon turned out to be a 26-minute walk, if you were speed walkers. There was no dishwasher, as advertised and the beds were dreadful. The dishwasher lacked English instructions, and the space had limited lighting. And then there were the roosters and the blaring music. I could go on.

Nine days went by quickly, mostly exploring the historic centre. We were regulars at Pedro & Lola restaurant at the Machado Square, as usual enjoying the food, the fun waiters and the live music.

About 20 years ago the owner Alfredo Gomez Rubio invited us for dinner in his restaurant and took us for a tour of the historic area, where he was involved in the restoration. Having gone back a number of times over the years, we were in awe at what has been done. A waiter in another restaurant in the square said of Rubio, “We think of him as a legend in Mazatlán, you are lucky to have met him, I never have.”
And then…. On the bus again.