I received an email recently from a very nice man who is a regular reader of this blog. He told me he had been a frequent visitor to Mexico in the past, had even planned to move to Mexico upon retirement. But now, with all the bad news they'd been receiving in Texas about Mexico in general, he was questioning his plans, and had not visited Mexico in four years.
He used to love to travel through Mexico, he told me, by bus and by car. He wondered whether it was safe to do that any more, and asked for my take on all this.
From far away, given the U.S. press, these questions are understandable. But people in other countries aren't the only ones hesitating or fearful to drive in Mexico. Residents right here in San Pancho have voiced the same concerns.
So I'd thought I'd write today about why people still travel into and through this country. During the past week, a number of my friends here have taken road trips. Manny and Joe drove from here to Barra de Navidad, then south the next day to Zihuatanejo, a twelve hour total trip. They turned east from the coast to Patzcuaro, stopped in Tlaquepaque, then home, making a giant loop.
Two other women friends are currently on the road, driving from San Pancho to Morelia.
Last week, I drove two hours from San Pancho to Tepic, the capital of Nayarit, to meet a friend from the States who wanted to see the coast.


After checking into rooms at the Hotel Real de Don Juan...

we time-traveled to a charming old building with a bar overlooking Tepic's Plaza Central.

Okay, so we didn't really time-travel...but the feel of the buildings and the plaza itself were decidedly old-fashioned, in a good way.

Couples, mostly not young, danced in a dignified and stately waltz to the sounds of a band in the bandstand. One of them approached us, the husband wanting to practice his rusty English, both of them cordial and kindly.
The hotel was delightful, staffed with friendly, helpful people who not only pointed us to this sweet bar and vantage point, but also directed us the following morning to the block of cowboy hat and boot stores near the Mercado so we could buy new hats. An old building, remodeled enough to be very comfortable but not enough to ruin it, it maintains its ornate colonial architectural details and features an assortment of fascinating statues, including this giant in the lobby.

I chose a road recommended by Lidia for the trip back to the coast. This tiny two-lane highway winds down from the city on the plateau, curvy all the way, but smooth and gentle and shaded by trees. Tiny pueblitos nestle on either side of the road, some with colorful and artistic fruit stands, none mentioned on the map.
The map (the Guia Roji, the Thomas Brothers of Mexico) labels the highway as route 76, but we didn't see that designation at all at the turn-off in Tepic. The sign only said "Miramar". Fortunately, I'd had a peek at an online map before the trip, so Miramar rang a distant bell. We ended up there, where highway 76 tees into the coast road from San Blas to Las Varas. And "there" was a tiny cluster of palapa beach restaurants and unfancy hotels on a little cove, hardly the kind of town one would expect to be pointed to on a city signboard. It's likely a very popular place for Tepic residents who crave some beach time, and will always be the same for us due to the oyster beds that adorn the south side of the cove.
I pulled in to a parking spot between two beach restaurants, each covered by palapa, each with tables on paved floors and more down in the sand. The proprietors of both smiled and greeted us, waving their hands at piles of fresh oysters heaped on the concrete. Which to choose? It was a coin toss situation, so we stepped into the one that had a table occupied. The loser was perfectly gracious at our decision. The winner allowed us to choose the size of oyster we wanted: small. He proceeded to shell a giant platter of them and present it to us tableside. We chose a few on the half-shell and sent the rest to the kitchen to be fried. They were brought back in a few minutes with a side of french fries, limes and hot sauce, and were so delicious that they will be worth a drive back there one day just to eat more.
This is why I drive in Mexico. You already know, as a reader of this blog, that in all my driving trips alone or with companions I've yet to have a bad experience. To pass up the opportunity to experience Route 76 and Miramar out of fear would, in my mind, be a major mistake.
My friends here who travel freely, to Patzcuaro or Guanajuato or the Guadalajara area, even into Mexico City, would feel the same, I'm sure. The rewards are consistently so great, the dangers consistently so imaginary, that we have no other option. Surely, one must have common sense and not do idiotic things, but isn't that the same anywhere one goes?
Mexico is a beautiful and diverse country filled with curious, intelligent, cordial people. We travel to see it and to learn it.
We travel to see this...

and this...

and this...

and this.

We travel to go from here...

to here...

and from here...

to here.

We travel to meet him...

and him... 
and her.

How could we not?
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