Retirement Talk. I’m Del Lowery. This is the second
part in a series concerning a trip to
examples of folks that did just that.
We traveled to Yelapa yesterday. You can only get there by boat. There are no roads or cars or trucks in Yelapa. And for this reason alone, it is worth a trip. It is a small village – and a great beach. We took a local bus south out of Vallarta for perhaps 10 miles to – Boca. This is another small town with boats pulled up on the sandy beach advertising their services for travel to Yelapa. Twelve dollars and a thirty minute ride brings you to this beautiful, tranquil beach town.
We walked back from the beach when we left the small boat. I thought we would find – a road that would lead into the center of the village. Wrong. There are no roads. There are small footpaths that lead from what seemed like one, small adobe dwelling to another. We felt like we were constantly walking through someone’s yard. Figuring out our mistake, we returned to the beach and walked towards one end of the beach where buildings came right down to the water. A small sign indicated the path to the village led up a narrow, steep, winding stairway. At the top was a cobble stone path about four feet wide that meandered between small adobe dwellings and a few small shops and restaurants. The shops and restaurants were all part of someone’s house; just the shop, or restaurant on one side of a room and bed or chairs, table or kitchen on the other side.
It was here that
we met Catherine walking down the path. She
was wearing a loose fitting pink dress and a floppy wide brimmed straw
used a long walking stick that appeared to have come from the forest.
looked like something right out of an old John Huston movie. She has
He writes mysteries – three books published so far – “Federal Offense, Imperfect Crimes, and Amateur Hour” (He wrote that one in the 70’s). Catherine walks – she walks in the jungle up to a waterfall every day. She shops in the village at the tamale factory which she insisted we visit with her. And she thoroughly enjoys being a house-wife fulltime. “For the first time in my life, I am just a housewife, and I love”, She said.
I asked if they travel back to the states often. “No” came a quick, and strong response.
Followed by, “No fun”. When they have to travel back to the states they try to arrange it so only one has to go: wedding, grandchildren being born, and that sort of things. When parents die they both return. They have no plan to return to the states. I asked if they had bought a house and she told me that no one owns any of the houses in Yelapa. She said, “They all belong to the community. The many acres in the valley, and everything in it, belong to the indigenous people who live here. They can sell their house – sort of. But it really belongs to the community. It is all very complicated.” She says; ending with, “So we rent.”
We left Catherine and returned to the beach. Four women from were sunning themselves in front of us. They looked like three mothers with three daughters: mothers - sixtyish; Daughters - twentyish. The mothers all wore two piece bathing suits with flowing sarapi that matched. They all had on too much jewelry: multiple gold and silver bracelets on each wrist; hugh rings of colored stone and sparkling diamond rings.
And then today I
met another one. He appears to be in his
late sixties. He lives in Torrecillas a truly primitive spot, yet south
Yelapa. It is also accessible only by boat. No roads, or cars, no
or phone service. He has been there five years; loves it; claims to be an artist. He seemed a bit
evasive or mysterious. I like to think he is, “on the run”.
He has a little, coiffure,
toy poodle type of dog – in
This is Retirement Talk. I’m Del Lowery