Calves of steel and montezuma's revenge

    It turns out that the beauty and charm of Old Vallarta lies not only in its allure as the gay quarter, but also in it's old-world charm. Negotiating the pocked cobblestone streets and steep tiled steps that link one calle to it's vertical neighbor it's easy to forget you're in Mexico. Instead of finding effeminate men wearing hot pants and front-pack chihuahua carriers, your imagination leads you to expect to find an authentic Italian gelati stand or a French pastry shop around the next bend. And although you never do...(Italian-inspired Mexican cuisine is about as close as you'll get), there's something about the atmosphere that makes just about anything possible.
     Scattered amongst the gender specific tourists you find a large smattering of retirees who spend a month to the entire winter here in Vallarta. They've purchased or rented holiday spaces of all caliber and seem to revel in the marvels and splendor that come with this eclectic part of the city. Catering to these tourists are all manner of yoga teachers. The other day I attended one of these classes.

     The sign stuck to the lamppost advertised yoga to reinvigorate and restore the body and mind. How could I resist? All I had to do was find the stairs across from the hotel and ascend to meditative bliss...easier said than done. The stairs turned out to be a crumbling collection of bricks, mortar, dirt and unidentifiable muck that went up and up and up...Unsure of whether there would ever be an end, or and exit for that matter I actually made the treacherous climb twice until I finally materialized, sweaty and shaking onto the street one block above our resort. The class itself was pure bliss. Our teacher, Anya, dutifully modified the poses to accommodate my protruding belly, but all the way through I could feel my tender calves whimpering from the climb and I wondered how I would feel in the morning.
    I couldn't walk for the next two days...then I got something that makes the locals laugh and tourists quake in their sandals...Montezuma's revenge!

This is the stairway to heaven...or hell- depending on how you want to look at it. At least the homeless guy left me alone.

All the colors of the rainbow

     Because our resort isn't an all-inclusive we were free to eat-suntan-tour wherever we wanted. Although the scenery on our resort's beach was colorful to say the least, as Trevor put it:
     "Let's head to the beach on the right, because the beach on the left ain't right."
     What it was though was beautiful. You've never seen such a bunch of good-looking and definitely unavailable men in all your life. And while I generally hold with the belief that tight bathing suits are meant for photo shoots and hard-cased plastic mannequins I was willing to let my stance slip a bit in lieu of who was sporting these speedos on our beach.

     I asked the tight-jeaned, big-sunglasses-wearing salesman about whether the stuffing helped to sell the bathing suit above.
     "I coodent beleev when dey put dat dere."
     "Yes, it adds a certain flair doesn't it? But do you sell more bathing suits because of it?"
     He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. I think it probably did.

sausage sausage all around...

...everybody loves sausage, except the two chicks I saw making out by the beach. Ines can tell you the rest.

     Greg wasn't wrong. Part of this resort was sold to XX resort from the original timeshare. The new owners started marketing this place as a gay resort. Time share owners from the previous timeshare were pissed about the change and voted 100% against it, but they were a minority. And so the compromise is that the resort keeps its website (the one that promotes it as a gay destination) and the official stance is that it is 'gay friendly'.
     From a business point of view it makes sense. We are right beside the #1 gay resort in PV and, well, as a 6 month pregnant woman with a child lets just say I stick out like a sore thumb. Your majority market is gay and after all- the bottom line is money. If you get the tourists, you can keep your business.
     Now from another point of view, lets say the one from our window...It's colorful to say the least. But 'cha know? Everyone seems really happy.

It only takes 5 hours to get to paradise!

   After a sleepless night at the Winnipeg Airport Hotel, due mostly to a crazy two-year-old who INSISTED on partying-down until 11pm, and partly to a husband who snores like a monster truck, we dragged ourselves to the airport for the 3 am check in. Everyone was in good spirits (even the two-year-old) and we passed the five hour flight without incident. Cally actually slept most of the way which made EVERYONE on the plane very happy. Of course, it's hard to be miserable (even if you are seriously sleep-deprived) when you are going from -32 to +25 C.

   Yes the weather was warm, balmy and freakin' amazing when we arrived in PV. Like an old friend who needs a shower, our first steps into Puerto Vallarta met us with sewer smells, car exhaust and time share pimps.  Greg rescued us at the airport and guided us, like the holiday veteran that he is, across the street to where the taxis are cheapest and took us to his condo in the Marina. We wouldn't be able to check into our hotel until the next day so we stayed at their place that night. Cally danced a happy dance to Greg's haphazard guitar strummin' and I, tired as hell, wandered about in a brain fog until I finally closed my eyes and surrendered to oblivion.

We made it to the exploding tree

We decided that rotten weather or no, we WERE going to make it to the airport at least and so first thing in the morning we loaded the car, making sure Cally was extra-securely strapped in, and took our chances on the highway. Luckily, that morning the blowing snow was more like a soft breeze (a soft -32C breeze) and drive wasn't nearly as bone-chilling as we had anticipated. Here is a pic the exploding tree near Portage, the distinctive prairie landmark that lets you know that you've survived at least half of the drive to Winnipeg.

Puking nimbostratus and highway closures

     The day before we planned to drive to Winnipeg the almighty snow gods unleashed their fury. Like a first year university student after a night of tequila, cement mixers and beer, the clouds spewed out great heavy chunks of snow chunder. The winds whipped with such savagery, visibility was a big fat zero and the highway we intended to take was closed.
     A friend who works as a paramedic called to let me know why she hadn't gone to yoga class that night.
     "My first mistake, you see, was putting my yoga clothes on in the first place. I knew that I'd get called in."
      "Was it a bad accident then?" I warily inquired.
     "It was out by Austin and we took two ambulances from Souris and another two came from the central region. The trucks had to crawl side by side along the highway until we found the accident. You couldn't see a thing."
     "Fantastic," I thought. Gay resort or no, with an Alberta clipper in full force, chances were that we wouldn't be going anywhere. "Oh God that would suck!" I pouted. One of my friends had just come back from a sunny, wonderful week in Manzanillo and had had a blast. Remembering how she'd described the water, beaches, margaritas and sunshine made my heart ache. Mouth gaping at the window, ("why bother to close it, it was too bloody cold for flies to get in anyhow?" I though miserably),  I reminisced about one of our conversations.
     "You're going to a gay resort?!" Lisa snorted. I just rolled my eyes. "What does Trevor think?"
     "Well, he's not too pleased with the idea to say the least." I scoffed
     "That makes me think about a game we played at our resort." Lisa giggled "It was called 'Scruples'."
     "How does it go?" I imagined crazy dares to jump naked into the pool, or chug a muy grande cerveza."
     "You have to answer questions about what you would do in certain situations."
     My fantasy about pasty white tourists doing naked cannon balls with hands tucked into their butt-cracks faded.
     "You know, like questions about your situation: If you were given a free vacation but it was at a gay resort, would you still go?" She laughed again. It was so easy to make Lisa laugh. Having a conversation with her was effortless.
     "Well, would you?" I asked in earnest.
     "I'd have to think about it." She answered diplomatically.
                                                                         ***
     "Absolutely NOT!" Marilyn stopped typing when I asked her Lisa's scruples question and looked me straight in the eye. "I'd take the hit on the ticket and stay right here."
     "Really? You really wouldn't go?"
     "No way," She reiterated "there will always be other trips to Mexico...Ones that don't involve staying at a gay resort."
     "Wouldn't that seem ungrateful though?" I thought aloud.
     "How thoughtful would it be to book you into a gay resort in the first place?" She conjectured and resumed her work on the computer.
     I had to admit, the Devil's advocate had made a point, but still- it seemed kinda shallow to judge an entire vacation solely by the resort...but then again, Marilyn had good cause to be choosy about where she stayed while vacationing. The first family trip she'd booked in Mexico had been so uncomfortable it had forever altered her impression of vacation-booking and travel agents.
     All speculation and scrupling aside, with the weather the way it was, it looked like I would never get the chance to see sunshine, sand or surf this winter....only snow snow and more freakin' snow!

Here is a recording of the vomit from above, taken by another concerned home-towner. Blech! 


http://www.theweathernetwork.com/your_weather/details/620/3991425/1/camb0194/plpcities/?ref=ugc_city_thumbs

Try to do something nice for someone and all you get is shit on...

     My poor father-in-law. It's hard when all you want to do is something nice for people you love and you end up getting shit on. Within a day or so of Trevor and I discovering the XX resort and Spa website, my father-in-law had received not one but two nearly identical emails from both myself and my husband asking why on earth we were booked into a gay hotel. I have to give him credit for keeping his cool because I'm pretty sure that were I in his place I would have used quite a few profanities that aren't worth repeating here. He patiently responded to both of our dispatches with a suitable amount of alacrity. Here's how my exchange with him went:


     Hi 2 u and hope all is well. I sent some info to Trev about this resort
and some reviews from other people who have stayed at this resort and it is
not what is being advertised.
      Firstly there is 3 resorts I could use by using the time share weeks. One is out in Nuevo Vallarta about 15 miles from us. The one I chose is downtown by the Malecon and the third one is about 6 miles south of town somewhat isolated.
     The XX which it is called now was and is 1 of three owned by the time share company who we are with. A couple or 3 years ago the time share company sold this to a company which renamed it XX
and they tried to promote this place as a gay place however it failed. Reason being is that tourism is down over 50% so they figured gays might be drawn to boost tourism.     The original time share company then took it over again. When I spoke to people and asked why
it is still being advertised as a gay resort, under mexican law the owners must still advertise as same however all the gays go to a resort called XY.

      Once the original time share company recovers the name back to the time share company , gay
advertising by various web sites will no longer exist. When I go to my membership log in for original time share company members , XX is not advertised as a gay resort. This place is right across the street from where friends of ours were staying and when we walked by I seen families with children etc there. Not to say that you might not see some gays around downtown would be false however I understand your concerns but as I was told is that the guests at XX are the same as at any other resort. Of coarse when I booked this place for u through the time share company , I seen nothing on that site as I mentioned before of any gay activity at this particular resort.

      Thats about all I can tell you as to how and why this came about. Trust me, my intentions were good and nor would have i paid for 2 weeks having known that I was booking you into a gay resort. I looked at trip advertiser reviews and many vary from how great a vacation they had there to how some had complaints about service, air conditioning problems etc. Never seen one review about people saying it was a totally gay resort. I hope my good intentions will not back fire. Yes, you may see some gays along the downtown area but to be honest with you
I noticed very little however I am not looking for them either lol

     Ok it was official, not only was I clearly a touch on the homophobic side but I was also a huge jerk. My kind father-in-law gave us a free timeshare for two weeks and so far all I had done about it was worry and complain about (in my pathetic defense, I worry about everything)...So there it was, all spelled out for me. The hotel had been sold, made into a gay destination and failed. Then sold again and for all accounts, was now a resort that anyone could be welcome at...I just hoped that my father-in-law was the forgiving sort and wouldn't let our overreaction colour the family trip.

What my hairstylist and her bible had to say about it

     "Aww come on, it'll be fun!" my hairstylist chirped as she painted noxious bleach over my brown and (*sigh) grey strands.
     "I know it'll be fun..." I hummed over how to say what I wanted to next. "It's just that besides the fact that Trevor is totally NOT okay with this..." (I resigned to taking the safe excuse) "I just don't know how kid-friendly this resort is going to be. I mean, they're not likely to have any kind of programs that meet our needs right?"
    "Mmmm hmmmm" she agreed halfheartedly and gave me a sideways glance. The advantage of being a hairstylist for over a decade is that Leanne had the uncanny ability to sniff out bullshit. And currently she smelled a big heaping pile of it. Desperate to take the attention away from me I shifted the focus of our discussion in her direction.
     "Well, I already know what you're going to say about it."
     'Oh do you? What would I say"
     Suddenly uber-conscious of the awkward nature of any religion-based discussion I tentatively suggested that "You'd say they were all devil-worshipers and were going to to to hell."
     Leanne belongs to a faith that is somewhat different from the mainstream and after several discussions with her about the difference between the hers and other Christian groups I'd drawn the conclusion that anything that was pagan or by inference, deviant, was looked upon as the work of Satan and considered devil-worship. As usual, I was wrong.
     "Actually there are lots of homosexuals in our faith." She began. I nodded and prepared to get schooled. "The bible doesn't condone homosexuality but that doesn't mean that homosexuals can't be part of our faith. It only means that they can't marry or fornicate."
Oh good, I felt slightly better. So according to the Leanne's faith, being gay didn't automatically earn you a one-way ticket to hell but it did mean that you had to live a life of physical denial at the risk of your soul. If that was all...
    "Ok, ok" I didn't want to get into the deeper scriptures or anything but this seemed cruel, "but what about the fact that 10% of EVERY world group, regardless of religion, is homosexual." Are all those people, despite what they believe, going to burn for all eternity?"
     "Well, avoiding an at-length discussion over the nature of the devil and the existence of hell" she said with a roll of her eyes "in our faith, if you are gay, you don't marry and you don't do it. But you are a human and you are loved."
     "Uh huh" I thought and decided right then and there to leave religion behind and chose a different tack, equally politically incorrect, but at least not leaving me at the mercy of hair bleach and a 'forgotten' timer.
     "Well, thinking about how 10% of the world's population is sexually deviant- deviant being defined here as 'outside the norm', I want to look at other ways your could describe deviation from the status quo."
     "I'm listening," Leanne was so good about not pushing her religion. She never talked about it unless I asked first and always respected my own choices. And so she patiently let me continue, "Well, because most homosexuals come from 'normal families' there is often a lot of baggage associated with openly being different. Some parents are cool, but I bet a lot of them aren't and so"  (I was thinking back now to a few gay friends I'd known), "there is often a tendency to self medicate with drugs and alcohol."
     "And...?"
      "Well, I am bringing a two-year-old to Mexico remember? I don't want her around that!"
As usual, as the voice of reason, Leanne set me straight.
    "Ok so are you going out clubbing with your toddler?"
    "No", I abashedly stared at the little drip of color sitting on the plastic cape I was wearing.
    "Are you going to be doing drugs yourself?"
     "Of course not!"
    "Then you aren't planning on exposing her to any of this stuff yourself are you!?"
     And there you had it. The proof that I had let my rationalization of stereotypes color my whole impression of this vacation. Everyone needs a hairstylist like Leanne, especially when their neck is unwittingly turning brighter and brighter shades of red.
     "You're going to Mexico with a few lemons,...So make lemonade." She said with finality and promptly set me under the dryer to 'lighten up".

A few more weeks until our vacation...I should check our resort website.

     I just sat there for a moment staring at the computer, unsure whether I should laugh or cry. It was so generous for my father-in-law to offer us his two-week time share in Mexico. When you are looking at a holiday that is half paid for, who are you to complain if the resort isn't five star or right on the beach.
     "Oh it's right on the beach, don't worry about that" he assured us. What he didn't tell us was what I was looking at right now. The website for the resort featured a panoramic photo of two half naked, greased up men laughing together on the beach, one leaning in provocatively, the other one, head tossed back and giggling like a testosterone-infused coquette.
     I scanned the photo for the hundredth time. Looking cautiously over my shoulder I wondered how I would break the news to my husband. "Maybe I should read a little more about the resort before I say something that might not be true." I rationalized and continued to peruse the resort description:

XX Resort and Spa is Puerto Vallarta´s first luxury beach-front Hotel and Beach Club dedicated to providing a unique and personalized holiday experience to the gay and lesbian community and our friends. (OMG there it is in virtual print- it really IS a gay resort! My husband is going to FREAK!)
We invite you to experience our XX resort for yourself by spending a day soaking up the sun at the Beach Club (I wonder if the cabana boys apply the sunscreen?), dining in our newly designed restaurant (I bet it's designer, something right out of Queer Eye), taking in one of our nightly events in the lounge (a drag show most likely), or watching the gorgeous sunsets from the privacy and comfort of one of our suites (mmm hmmm, and then...).
We are committed to providing a truly unique and memorable experience for all our guests (Not too sure what this means yet...). So for the confirmed hedonists (...Oh, I know what THIS word means though!), we are creating an exclusive, luxury Spa with professionally-trained staff, private treatment facilities, steam room and a fully-equipped gym with state-of-the-art equipment.(Are they talking about happy ending massages? I mean a hedonist would want to enjoy his massage to the fullest right? Oh, why am I thinking about this...I just won't go to the spa).
XX Resort and Spa is working hard to become your preferred destination when visiting Puerto Vallarta. So contact us and let our knowledgeable concierge and staff help you make the most of your holiday.

       There was no help for it, I was going to have to tell my husband. "Uh, Trevor?"
      "Yeah," he called, not lifting his eyes from the hockey game that hypnotized him to the big screen TV.
     "I think you'd better come and see this."
     "See what?" clearly annoyed at being asked to peel himself away from the Calgary Flames soap opera he needed a good reason to make the 10 pace journey to the computer.
     "It's our resort website...Trevor, it's a gay resort."
     I was sure I could sense his butt-cheeks clamping together as he scanned over the home page. Though I've often seen him angry or annoyed, this moment definitely made the top ten. His brows furrowed, his lips pursed paper thin and his fists balled so tight his knuckles stood out bone-white.
     He didn't speak for the rest of the evening. Eventually I went to bed. Sometimes it's just better to leave him alone when he has something major to digest. As I drifted off to sleep, images of speedos and body oil in my head, I thought I could hear to tell-tale clacking of a keyboard downstairs...