Wednesday morning, we had to be up and checked out by 10am. SIGH. Technically we had the room for a week, but work needed us.
We stashed our bags at the hotel, and walked down to the Malecon to do some more souvenir shopping. It seemed like each day had gotten hotter, or maybe it’s because we weren’t in the pool; all I know is I’m not accustomed to having sweat dripping down the back of my pants. We even stopped at Vallarta Mart (the PV equivalent of Cozumel Mart, so of course we had to visit) twice for water.
We found one really awesome shop a block or so off the Malecon, called Querubines. I ended up doing most of my non-tacky souvenir shopping there. We then rushed off in search of a bathroom, because, well, I still wasn’t really done being sick.
As on most vacations, Starbucks was there to provide us with relatively clean restrooms. And while ordinarily I’d avoid visiting an American company in Mexico, they also had caffeine and food that I didn’t want to eat, but knew I should. We sat and enjoyed the air conditioning for a while.
We walked down to the bridge to the Zona Romantica, then slowly headed back up the Malecon. I realized that wearing my Canada hockey t-shirt wasn’t the best choice; while no one but the locals could escape the timeshare harangue, they seemed to take particular interest in Canadians. A few guys had asked us where we were from in the US, but everyone wanted to know were we lived in Canada. Half of them seemed to not want to believe me about being America. What’s the deal with Canadians in Puerto Vallarta, anyway? Is it just easy to get to from the west coast?
It was so hot, and we were so run-down from dehydration and the sickness, that we had to find a bench in the shade and sit down for a while. I finished what seemed like my 10th bottle of water that morning. After a while, we got up and headed the rest of the way back to the hotel.
our favorite: oxxo medio!!
We got our bags, and they called us a cab. (Note: cabs from the hotel are the regular 100 pesos; you don’t have to deal with the timeshare crap on the way out, obviously.) The taxi driver scared the hell out of us on the way to the airport, but thankfully didn’t get pulled over by the cops this time. Driving past the marina area, we realized that 1) we never could’ve walked there and back, and 2) we were really glad we hadn’t stayed in that area. You’d have to take a bus or cab everywhere.
At the airport, they searched our bags in a very cursory way at the check-in desk, and we headed upstairs, expecting to go through security. Apparently we already had, though, because that was it. We did some shopping and food-gathering, preparing for another flight sans meal (thanks, Northwest!).
I had a bottle of water and a pop, and only once we went to board, learned that they were confiscating liquids. What the hell? The guy missed my bottle of pop, though, so I at least got to bring that with me.
The flight back was uneventful, and thankfully almost an hour shorter than the trip down; it’s hard to occupy yourself when you’ve already read Skymall. The plane wasn’t very full, so we got a whole row to ourselves.
Wendy picked us up at the airport, and we found out that in the 5 days we’d been away, she’d gone and fallen in love. WHAT?