We’d been inland for a couple of months, and we were starting to miss the beach. But a week or two down here in July has reminded us why we never spent a summer on the boat in Mexico—it’s just too hot to enjoy. It’s one thing if there are no kids involved. In that case you get up and do something in the morning, then you hide out inside during the heat of the day, and finally head back out for some nighttime fun. But that time line doesn’t work for our kids. The hottest part of the day is when they are most eager to be outside doing something. We gave it our best shot. We hit the beaches, we played in the shade, we hosed ourselves down whenever we could, but in the end we had to turn tail and start our run back to elevation.
Looks like the guy is practicing Tai-Chi, but he’s actually in the process of casting his fishing line.
Playa Carrizalillo. The only way down to this small beach is the stairs. This was a fun place to spend an afternoon. The beach hut we parked ourselves had a minimum price of 250 pesos for the beach chairs and umbrella, but from that price they deducted our drinks. So that works. And the surf was just “calm” enough not to drown us all—a rarity in these parts.
And you think doing laundry is a pain in the ass.
From Puerto Escondido we headed north for Acapulco. It’s about 240 miles of decent road punctuated by way too many tiny villages full of topes. There are no camping options between the two cities, and only a couple of possible beach type boondocking spots. With the heat we decided we’d just hit the road early, suck it up, and blast through in one go.
There was a stretch about twenty miles long where every single road sign was doubled up. The old ones were all in good condition, but for some inexplicable reason new signs had been stuck in the ground ten feet in front of each of them.
I like this one the best just because they mixed up their wiggles.
These are called heat naps.
It took us a good ten hours (with stops) to cover the two-hundred-forty miles. As we rolled into Acapulco the sweat was pouring off of us—the heat from the engine and the road had turned the bus into a sauna. We were so ready to park, get outside, and shower off.
We found the trailer park without too much trouble. The big sign hung over the road in front of the closed gate. There was a security guard standing there though, so we gave a honk and expected he’d swing the gate open. Instead he looked at us with total confusion. Uh-oh.
He let us in to what had, at some point in the past, been a nice RV park. No longer. Now it was some sort of construction company loading site. No, we couldn’t stay. I talked to the people there for a bit—asking about other camping options or even a nice hotel—and eventually came away with something called Pension Gamela. Okay, I thought, it must be some sort of hotel. That’s what a pension is, right?
Wrong. We left and got lost immediately. I stopped and asked taxi drivers where Pension Gamela was and wasn’t coming up with much. Then one guy said it was just up the road on the right. We continued on but didn’t see anything. Tensions were rising steadily inside the bus.
I stopped at a gas station and asked around. Got directions once again, but then decided to find a taxi driver who knew the place and could lead us there. For fifty pesos I found the right lady, and off she went, with us in hot pursuit.
When she pulled up in front of Pension Gamela our spirits sank. It was nothing but a big dirty parking lot full of semi-trucks. We were soaked in sweat, covered in road grime, and the bus was warm enough to bake bread. This was not going to work.
I asked the taxi driver to lead us to a hotel. She couldn’t think of anything where we could bring the bus along. Hotels in the center of the city she said were full, and they didn’t have places to park the bus anyway. She said she did know of a motel just down the road. Okay, whatever.
Of course, motels in Mexico are not the same as motels in the States. Motel here means Love Hotel, payable by the hour. We pulled up out front and spirits sank ever lower. It was past the kids’ bed time and it would be dark very soon. We really had no idea whatsoever where we were, and didn’t have any idea where else we could go. We were in a bind.
I made one last dash around town with the lady in the cab, but we came up empty. We talked to a couple of hotel hawkers (guys that stand on the side of the road waving Tourist Information signs), but even they could think of no good place for us to go. In the end I relented, and we returned to the bus with the news that this was our home for the night.
Turns out that next door to the motel a lady had a big yard where we could park the bus (the motel parking lot had a low overhang we couldn’t get through). So in the end Ali grabbed the kids and all the pillows and blankets and headed into the motel room while I parked the bus and stayed aboard for the night in Schulte’s Inferno.
This had to be one of our lowest points in travel memory.
Completely unrelated: We were driving along one day when we spotted a truck full of chickens. This led to a conversation about where our food comes from. We’ve had a lot of these conversations lately, it seems. Anyway, Lowe announced that he didn’t want to eat any more animals. Ali told him that’s fine, but that meant no more chicken, no more steak, no more hamburger, no more sausage, no more bacon. Immediately at the mention of bacon Lowe broke back in like, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa there Mama, “Would maybe just bacon be okay?”
I don’t think he’s quite ready for vegetarianism.
Which leads me to our dinners out. Lowe is pretty picky about his hamburgers, so that simple standby is out. He’s not really into chicken, though he’s been coming around a little bit on that one. He would happily eat five or six orders of bacon, but that’s generally not an option either. Fish? Nah.
The one thing that we can count on him eating every time? Arrachera. That’s Mexico’s skirt steak. A tender, marinated, clean cut of steak. Generally the most expensive item on the menu of the type of restaurant that we frequent. For probably a year or more now I haven’t even had to bother looking at a menu because I’m getting the Arrachera. Some days he eats a third of it, some days he eats all of it. Oh, and Ouest is usually good for at least one taco made out of it. I eat the scraps, and Ali usually shovels half of whatever she ordered onto my plate. The kid is only four (not even) and I already have to entertain the idea of ordering him his own steak? We’re screwed.
19 Comments on “Love Motel”
From the blog: “…in the end Ali grabbed the kids and all the pillows and blankets and headed into the motel room while I parked the bus and stayed aboard for the night in Schulte’s Inferno.
This had to be one of our lowest points in travel memory.”
Heh . . . “Schulte’s Inferno” . . . good one, Pat. 🙂
TJ
Ugh, Chacaua was our inferno night. Mia kept raising her legs in the air in an attempt to get air circulating around herr body surface and would say “OMG can it get any hotter?” Yes, baby, apparently it can on the Schilte Inferno.
You shoulda gone left dude. South to the hills and mountain air. There are waterfalls in them thar hills.
I cannot be held responsible for autocorrect typos this early in the morning. Schulte, Apple, not Shilte.
Stumbled across your blog not too long ago & anticipate every update! You are such a great story teller & photographer, it is a joy to follow your incredible journey. Reading about Lowe’s “whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa there Mama” moment brought back memories of when our son was 5 or 6 & learned where food comes from. He became what we humorously referred to as a “bacon vegetarian” overnight! Once we discovered veggie bacon he gave up the real thing but we still chuckle over his “bacon vegetarian” days. Safe travels & thank you so much for allowing us to live vicariously through you!
Great two aspects of traveling in a single post. I can relate to both of them, getting lost, even with gps, and having hard time sometimes to find a place for a night in Mexico and further South. We ended up getting a motel room and sleeping in the van in the front of the room sometimes. As further South I travel less and less meat I eat usually. It must be the heat and the conditions of preparing the meat. I guess that’s where being “flexitarian” comes from.
Oh, and just a quick note…I know you guys have a plan but I was so Jonesing to see you down in the Yucatan in Paamul. The kids would freaking love it with all the gorgeous beaches and safe swimming.
This trip isn’t over you know. 🙂
You guys rock my world. You are truly an inspirational story! I’m in the middle of your book and I read your blogs for inspiration. Amazing people, amazing experiences. Keep it coming! One day I will make this dream a reality.
Welcome to our world, Pat and Ali!!
If we didn’t have our blessed trades, the summers would be unbearable. LOTS of time in the ocean!! 😀
I love that you went NORTH to Acapulco. That really shows how far South you were!! 😀
I guess we are total freaks, but we loved staying in the Love Motels – “No Tell Motel” – Mikey would go in first and get the porn channels turned off, scope it for stuff we didn’t want the kids to see, and then we’d head on in.
Best showers, ever! And such interesting couch configurations!
It wasn’t that the hotel was bad, in fact you’ve got to love only paying for 12 hours, but the neighborhood was pretty sketch. And yeah, the shower had a giant glass wall facing the bed. 🙂
Universal directions in Mexico, “Dos quadreas y derecha. You hear it almost every time. Just go 2 blocks and then right. Sometimes it gets you closer.
Funny. When one lady gave me directions she told me it was 6 km, then left, and 10 km further. It was actually 2 km, then left, then 3 km. And she was so sure of herself.
Pat has a whole lot more experience traveling the world than I do, for sure. But I have been traveling around North America for over 27 years in one or another Dodge Travco. I am also over 6’5″ tall, and have hit my head on the roof air conditioner more times than I could ever count. But I would never, never, ever consider removing the generator and the roof air conditioner. I may not use it often, but when I need it, it is there. I have “camped” on the street, or on the beach many times, and been very thankful to have both the generator and the air conditioner. Some times you just need the generator for one reason or another. Just one man’s opinion.
Our Travco’s generator wasn’t working, and wasn’t even in the bus when we bought it. The roof air conditioner didn’t work either. So I wasn’t removing them so much as simply not replacing them. But in the end, for me, it comes back to the fact that we all live our lives with so little inconvenience these days that spending one or two uncomfortable nights out of 500 shouldn’t really feel like such a hardship. I think everyone could do with a little less comfort in our daily lives.
After our first summer visit to relatives in north Mexico, I vowed to have an RV with a roof a.c. and a genset for the next time. We did have them; but couldnt really use them in MX. Our relatives live in small houses on narrow and crowded residential streets, where none of the locals have a.c. in their houses. They just have fans blowing. Even if they could afford the electricity, there wasnt enough wattage to run window a.c. units. Since there was nowhere to park except in front of their houses and neighboring houses, we couldnt run the genset without several families listening to it and smelling its fumes all night. Instead we were lucky to be able to run an extension cord out of someone’s house to run a fan in our RV.
It wasnt too bad once the engine/driveline had cooled down.
Pat,
Wait till Lowe is over 12 and orders “adult” meals, then when he is 14 and after eating an adult meal says, “I am hungry”.?
Oh, man. I have 2 boys and I can SO relate to the food thing. Since birth, they have been big eaters. My younger son, 8, can out-eat any of us. He had 4 plates the other day – granted, 2 were salads, but they were BIG salads. Then you add in the chicken, potatoes, veggies, etc. And he was begging for dessert and was hungry again an hour later.
Growing boys are no joke.
Another great update….love following your travels!!
Always a great read! Thanks so much for sharing not only the fun and beautiful things about travel but also some of the few frustrations. Travel doesn’t always go as planned but there is always an adventure tucked in there somewhere, isn’t there? Thanks for all the great photos!!