We have just returned from an eight-day holiday, surrounded by family, new friends, fish, and… tequila. Oh yes, the sweet nectar of the blue agave plant, baked over the hot smoke of roasting pineapples, then mashed to release the fermented juices which are poured into oak vats and left to ‘age’ (could I be left to ‘age’ so well I wonder?… doubtful) then gently cascaded over ice with a serious squeeze of lime and a rim of salt.
Ah, Tequila. I love you so.
We stayed in the tiny village of Mismaloya, just south of Puerto Vallarta, nestled into the foothills of the Sierra Madre Mountains, embraced by the lush jungle which fawns over the Bay of Bandaras collared by a sugar sand beach.
Mismaloya (which literally translates into: “place where they grab fish with their hands”) is far enough away from the hustle and bustle of tourism, and so small (two main streets) that in quick order you feel ‘at home’ (and start thinking ‘Real Estate’- well, maybe that’s just me).
One sunny afternoon I followed the dusty road, up into the green shadows of the jungle, and was joined by three local hens on their daily walk to the dry goods store.
Well, maybe they were…
|The locals are so friendly|
|Untouched by ‘modern’ amenities,
but every roof top has a satellite dish.
Priorities don’t ya know.
|Fresh fruits abound|
|Mismaloya has only one Elementary school
I was lucky enough to be there when the children were coming in from recess.