Mazatlan Central, Mexico

I had to leave Mazatlan, Mexico, but it's "my town" in my heart. It's where I will return when I am ready to return home.

I will return because Mazatlan is so vibrant, alive, and dynamic; its people so gracious, warm, and thoughtful; its climate so temperate and inviting (most of the year).

On a cool, rainy night, I first met Mazatlan, as my husband and I docked our sailboat at the marina. We'd left Southern California a few months ago, and traveled the Pacific Coast of Mexico. This time, we explored Mazatlan for only a few weeks, going on to continue our travels.

But we felt the pull of Mazatlan. We returned again and again, each time staying longer. Each time it felt like we were coming home. Last time we stayed for a year. A year of which I have fond memories:

In a state of constant amazement, I walk the streets of central Mazatlan, the sun warm, the air alive with expectation. This is my favorite area of Mazatlan, with its colonial style of architecture. I walk here day after day, always awed by the new and interesting things I see.

I love the wonderful colors of the old homes: a deep yellow building with bright blue trim around windows and doors, a pink building with brown accents, then peach with green and purple.

On each block, I find "gems," my special favorites: shabby facades hiding beautiful homes. From a building with a deteriorated exterior, a woman emerges with her trash and I get a glimpse inside. A beautiful courtyard, then an interior as fine as any in Architectural Digest. Just across the steet, the building is run down, weeds climb out through broken windows, walls are tumbling down.

I head to Centro Mercade, where I do most of my food shopping. The selection is large, the quality better than the supermarkets. But most of all, I enjoy the lively atmosphere, people scurrying by, vendors with happy smiles and greetings, the vivid fruits and vegetables, the meat counters, displaying pig heads and other sights I've never seen in the states. The market dates back to the 19th century.

At one of the counters, I sit down for lunch. For less than the equivalent of one U.S. dollor, I enjoy a delicious taco and a soda. The old woman next to me smiles at me widely. She's eager to communicate, but she speaks no English, and my Spanish is poor. We communicate with smiles and gestures, our words not necessary.

Most people in Mazatlan are bilingual; communication is not a problem. I developed a friendship with a 20 year old girl who was eager to improve her English. Meeting regularly with this bright, lovely, young woman and sharing information about our lives was a highlight of my week.

People and vehicles rush by as I leave the Mercado, all intent on their destinations. The action, color, noise, and smells of a dynamic city going about its businesss.

Things are more relaxed in the "Gold Zone," the tourist area, with one elegant hotel after another along the beach. I ride through on the bus; it's not as interesting as the central area.

At night we come back to the central area. Pedro Y Lola's, on Plaza Machado, is one of our favorite restaurants. Often we come just to listen to the music, a small group that rocks.

Plaza Machado is especially magical at night, with the soft warm glow of street lights against the ornate buildings. The light refects the delicate ironwork on the windows and balconies, the graceful trees, the red brick sidewalk. The couples embracing in the shadows testify to its romantic atmosphere. It makes me feel good just to sit here, feeling the cool breeze, hearing the soft murmur of voices and faint music from the restaurants.

Public transportation is a big asset of Mazatlan, from the open air pulmonias (reasonably priced taxis) to the buses which get you almost anywhere for two pesos (about 25 cents).

I'll never forget my first sight of the long stretch of beach, as my bus came around the curve. What an awesome sight! The beach stretches for miles, waves break against the black rocks, a hill rises in the background.

Many transplanted people from the U.S. and Canada live here. In addition to local people, I have many good friends here, other gringos. We have a bond: We have discovered a magical and wonderful place to call home.

Mazatlan, my town; I will return.

Barbara P

Submitted: Monday 16th February 2004, 4:24 PM

Privacy - Submit - Prizes - Conditions - Contact Us - HOME