My name is Rae, an overworked and unsatisfied employee of a defense contractor who was much in need of a vacation. This vacation; a birthday gift for my new girlfriend Pilar was an extravagance which my savings account showed I could ill afford. Pilar was a sweet, sensual, politically conscious community worker. She worked with the underserved while I worked for the overindulged. Her personality was quiet, contemplative and easygoing. Mine was gregarious, somewhat reactionary and often anal retentive. What we both shared was an obvious physical attraction to each other and equally strong desire to live life to its fullest. That was why, in spite of the obvious differences, I discounted all the rest and used the positives as justification that we made a wonderful combination. I soon after made up my mind that I wanted to share life with her for years to come. We both fell instantly “in like”. Moving right in stride to the “lesbian two step” we moved forward with a pronouncement of love after a month’s worth of dating. God only knew (or possibly Pilar did too) what prevented the U-haul from pulling up shortly thereafter to push us to “step three”, moving in. Six months into our relationship we found ourselves heading to Mexico for what I thought would be the vacation of our lives.
We got to the airport the necessary two hours in advance. We’d already planned to just ride out the wait playing scrabble and drinking. But as we waited in the international portion of the airport
we found ourselves caught up with the event of people watching. We listened to the flight announcements in several languages and tried to guess which language we were hearing. We tried to match unknown faces that passed us by with possible nationalities. We joked at our stereotypical matches of some and got into political discussions about others. We held hands, looked into each others eyes, and every now and then we shared a brief but sweet kiss. But our plans to just sit leisurely and play scrabble were overtaken by our anticipation at getting on the plane. Finally we just packed the board away and decided to give in to the excitement of the wait.
At one point we mused at some Asian men who walked by us, unashamedly staring while we held hands. For a moment I thought they were gonna ask if they could take our picture. I told Pilar that if they kept walking by and staring we should really give them something to take back in their camera and give each other a nice french kiss … we ultimately decided to position ourselves elsewhere instead. So we joined the masses waiting for Allegro Flight #159.
I looked around to see a diverse group of vacation travelers. Across from us sat a younger Latino couple. He was a very handsome and large man with the build of an offensive back. He wore a NY Yankees baseball cap and had a tiny gold hoop earring tastefully worn in his left ear. The start of what was probably going to be a well groomed beard was beginning to push through his face, and he napped just about the entire time while holding his girlfriends’ hand. She was dressed very casually in shorts, a top and some fashionable sandals. She was also a big woman. I noticed how infrequently I saw big muscled men with equally strong looking women and thought what a handsome couple they made. She read a book. Every now and again she leaned over to whisper something in his ear, or give him a little kiss. He’d listen, receive the kiss, and go back into his hibernation.
Across from them sat a mother and a father. He quietly reading; donned the outfit of an aging golfer, or just maybe an affluent old white man. His demeanor was that of a man both at peace and proud. Every now and again he’d look up from his book to survey his surroundings, gaze across at his wife; and then return to his book. The mother sat mostly out of my view. I only caught her as the man got up to go to the bathroom after the announcer informed us that Allegro Flight #159 had just arrived at the gate. As the man got up to go to the bathroom, the woman informed him to take his bag because she didn’t want to be responsible for it. She then proceeded to inform the daughter of the frequency of this ritual. Telling her and all who cared to listen, that the man did this every time they went on a trip, and always just about the time they called for boarding.
I started to feel my anticipation return. I’d briefly forgotten about my excitement, getting lost in other peoples’ stories as I looked around the airport. But now they were about to call us for our flight, (or so I thought), and soon we would be officially on our way to Mexico.
We watched as the others squirmed with discomfort. The energy level seemed to rise with the thought of soon touching down in another country. Just about that time we heard yelling and screaming, we looked up to see a group of about 6 young white boys, all wearing baseball caps, noisily pushing their way to the front of the gate. They looked harried like they’d just arrived at the airport, yet they were the first to express disappointment that the plane hadn’t arrived yet. But loud they remained. They impatiently waited around for awhile, then decided to go off somewhere (probably drinking) until they could actually see people boarding, at which time they would again push themselves to the front!
Pilar and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes at the thought of sharing a two and a half hour flight with this pack. But we let our gaze linger a bit too long in each others eyes, and soon the glint of disgust dissipated into a haze of love. We squeezed each others had, and joined each other in our heads. Then a few minutes later they began to call for boarding. Just as we’d expected somewhere around the second call the pack of boys came bustling through the crowd and somehow pushed their way onto the plane.
Pilar and I took our time all the while praying that we wouldn’t be seated anywhere next to the pack of boys. We expressed gratitude at seeing that the boy's seats were way in the back of the plane, and ours in the middle. We surveyed the people surrounding us, and decided that we’d gotten good seats. But we were all to find out later on that there were no seats on the plane that day that were safe from the pack of boys.
It was about 3 o’clock as the plane began its ascent, and I could once again feel the anticipation welling inside. I tried to locate myself in the sky, wondered aloud what body of water we were currently passing over; and then prepared my mind for the warm water and beautiful beaches that waited in Mexico. I went through the usual eerie images that sometimes stay with me on takeoff. I thought through the possibilities of what I’d do in case we crashed. I had a whole disaster scenario going through my head before we even reached our cruising altitude. My diversion came when I was once again reminded who some of my traveling companions were. I heard the familiar sound of whooping and hollering coming from the rear of the plane. Soon the solace of crashing was replaced by my contempt at the pack that sat at the back of the plane.
During the course of the plane ride a few member of the pack decided to make several annoying visits to the cockpit. This was the first time that I’d ever had the opportunity to see straight through to the front of the plane while in flight. But the boys insistence on having the view to themselves not only prevented me this opportunity, but apparently annoyed the pilot as well. The pack members just wouldn’t sit down. The flight attendant would shoo them away, only to have them comeback again a few minutes later … with reinforcements. Finally the pilot closed the cockpit door. Even that didn’t deter the boys. Now they needed to make further asses of themselves by stating the obvious; that the “pilot had just closed the door on them.” Apparently offended, they decided to act out to save face. So naturally they needed to more to drink. You could tell that the flight attendants had grown tired of them; and we were once again treated to an update of their plight after one of the flight attendants tried to stop their alcohol intake. One shouted incredulously, “now she’s trying to cut us off!” I learned to block out their immaturity with thoughts of the peacefulness I hoped was ahead. The rest of the plane ride was fairly inconsequential, and before I knew it we were scaling the skies of Mexico, preparing to descent upon Puerto Vallarte.
It was coming on night but we could still see the lush mountainous landscape. The sight was so picture beautiful. The sky was so dark. It was around 9p. Just about the tie the nightly rainstorms occurred. The dark skies of Mexico with the backdrop of the jungle covering the mountains provided such a picturesque greeting for our arrival. As we got closer to the ground we could see a few livestock scattered about and a long stretch of muddy river winding through the valley. We had arrived and all I wanted to do was get out of the plan and see more. I had never had to deal with customs and I didn’t know what to expect. I was prepared for the film images of corrupt officers going through my intimate things, eyeing me with suspicion, and just generally giving us a bad time. I was happy to find out, whether because of the hour or just luck; these particular officers could care less. We were apparently on the honor system to declare if we were trying to smuggle anything into the country. And so our entrance into Mexico was happily uneventful.
Next we prepared ourselves for a hectic search for transportation to the hotel. Once again our fears were quickly displaced when a smiling Mexican held up a sign saying “Sun Trips” and graciously directed us to a very amiable guide named Lupe. Things were looking up and we felt much taken care of, so I sauntered off to the restroom very pleased at the trip to this point. I returned from the restroom to a very forlorn look on Pillar’s face. It wasn’t long before I noticed why. She informed me that the pack of boys were over talking to our amiable guide Lupe, and it appeared that they would be joining us on our ride to the hotel. I was sick. I just couldn’t believe it. Of all the hotels in Puerto Vallarte it looked as if they would be staying at ours. There was another couple that was going to the hotel as well; an older white man and woman. They both looked equally disgusted, so you can imagine our surprise and complete joy when we saw Lupe sending the pack of boys off in another direction away from us. There was a God! …
Thus, our vacation began. The temperature was about 80 degrees with humidity probably also in the 80’s. I felt like a wet rag as soon as I stepped out of the air conditioned airport into the night; but nothing mattered. It was all good because the pack of boys had gone in another direction. I sat in the taxi feeling pleasantly overwhelmed with being in another country. Spanish was being spoken all around. My long awaited dream of being somewhere special with someone special was underway.
Unfortunately for Pilar the man who rode in the taxi with us had been to Vallarte (is what the locals refer to it) before, so he waxed on about the preferable places to go (as if he knew our preferences), and what to avoid, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera …. I could see Pillars’ annoyance; but I, in my borderline Virgo ness, wanted all the information possible. This is not to say that I didn’t understand Pillar’s annoyance with the man, but I just gave him the benefit of the doubt. Pilar blocked, I listened, responded in gratitude and soaked in my first impression of the city. Although it was now about 10:30p, you could tell that the nightlife was just getting started. There seemed to be mostly young white kids walking about looking for a party. It was all such a site.
We arrived at the hotel about 10 minutes after leaving el aero Puerto. I didn’t expect much but the sight upon arrival was beautiful. There were arched ceilings with plants and beautiful waterfalls, tennis courts and several beautiful pools. I was also very satisfied with our room. It had two huge King sized beds, a kitchenette with a small refrigerator, microwave, stove, blender, toaster, coffeepot, sink; well stocked with various plates and bowls, wine, shot and martini glasses. We didn’t discover until the morning but we had a wonderful view of the Sierra Madres as our backdrop. It was picture postcard special.
There we were. Tired but too filled with excitement to stay in our rooms. We dropped our bags and went out to explore around the hotel. The hotel was located in the beach; which took us all of about 30 seconds to get to. It seemed so peaceful. Some couples were still walking about and in my head I thought about how romantic it felt to be here on the beach with Pilar. I wanted to reach over and kiss her but some little wall; something prevented me from going there just yet. We talked about how glad we were to be there as our excitement settled into the night. Our memories several months back to the helpful person that booked our trip. I felt such trust in her assurances “you’ll have a good time”, yet, our feelings for each other seemed to pale within the moment. Was it just me? I wrote it off as just being overwhelmed and a bit tired. I decided to only talk about the joy of what it felt like to be living my dream that night on the beach with Pilar
We wanted a drink to help calm us down and Pilar noticed some people so we walked to an adjoining hotel to find the "het" set dancing the night away in their version of clubbing. As I walked through this mixed crowd of children and adults I found myself thanking God that I no longer had that particular distinction. It’d been such a long time ago since being in a straight bar among people like this. Not one thing since touching down in Mexico had felt as foreign as this experience for me. All I wanted to do was drink and go be alone somewhere with Pilar. We weren’t at the bar for 2 minutes before Pilar started getting hit on. I would find that a common occurrence during the course of our vacation. Not that I was worried at that point. The man was a dog. He was a little bitty thing; obviously drunk with some tired line. When Pilar relayed the story to me I just had to laugh. The story served to reinforce my earlier thanks that this scene was not a part of my current lifestyle.
Once again Pilar and I made our way to the beach and lay out in some chaise lounge chairs. We expressed thanks for our life, love and the ability to be able to have such a vacation. I looked across at her lying there so beautifully in the moonlight, and I felt so lucky to be able to include this night as one that I would recall when reflecting on my happiest of memories.
A light rain started to fall but the weather was still warm. The contrasting weather between city of departure and now was so different. We loved it. We walked along the beach lingering in the cloak of a light rain amidst a warm breeze. I felt intoxication. Not for the drink, but from the moment. We both used adjectives like surreal to describe those first few hours in Mexico. We finally decided to take our small party upstairs once the wind started to pickup and the rain began to pour. The excitement of our long day almost sated our weariness until we returned to our rooms. We were both so completely tired. We got naked, soon blanketed with sleep; we curled ourselves into the familiar spooning position. This familiar way of saying goodnight made me denounce my earlier fears of distance as silly; with that I slipped into unconsciousness, contemplating adventures with Pilar in the upcoming days.
We woke the next day sill in each other’s arms. I thought I might be a bit disoriented and possibly forget I’d gone to sleep in Mexico the night before; but when I awoke it was apparent that all was still wonderfully in order. Our love and location in tact, we came together to make love that first morning. It was sweet, but brief and I remember thinking how different our lovemaking was starting to become. I recalled the way we shared ourselves when we first met. How wild and free of; noticing how the wildness had somehow changed to a familiar calm. I tried not to read anything more into it than the inevitable fact that the honeymoon period was over; yet I still believe I held onto some bit of expectation for more especially here in Mexico. I rolled those thoughts through my head for a short time and decided, once again, to put the those images behind me and instead concentrate on the love that was shining right there in my face.
We lingered in the bed for a while longer, but the dynamic of difference soon attached itself to our day. Pilar wanted more time in bed to sleep, or at least to nap. I wanted the day to begin as soon as I saw the first light of the sun. In time this difference would wear on each of us. Of course the first day we both had it in us to give in a little for the other, but in time the compromising became less desirable and tension ensued.
When morning arrived I just couldn’t help myself. I had always been the first one to pop out of bed with excitement no matter what the setting. There was an unknown adventure waiting to be explored. To me time was a-wasting’ lying in bed. I guess I truly did not totally get the concept of vacation. Especially the clause that contracted that a significant amount of relaxation was required to officially be on vacation status. Now, upon reflection, I must admit that I’d gotten up especially early this morning. I think it wasn’t even 7:30 a.m.!! Pilar never did get back to sleep after that initial wake up. We talked about what we’d do that day. Then we got up to go attend a briefing with Lupe. The purpose was to, supposedly, familiarize ourselves with what there was to do in P.V. It was about 9 a.m. when we finally got it together to leave the room and you could hear the slight hammering as the construction workers began their day. We both lamented our concern about the proximity of the construction; then decided the view of the Sierra Madres was worth it. We probably wouldn’t be in our rooms for most of the day anyway.
Before we could find our amiable guide Lupe we encountered some else who wanted to provide us with “informaccion” about PV. We, or should I say “I”, listened intently. Pilar wasn’t totally present because she needed her morning cup of coffee. I was being satiated by the opportunity to receive MORE INFO. If wasn’t long before we realized that this “information opportunity” was just a hook to get us to attend a timeshare pitch. We would find such “informative” people all over the city. I listened to deals that Patty the “Information Provider” enticed us with and I was caught; hook, line, and sinker. But Pilar remained stoic and indifferent to the pitch. I was opening up my wallet ready to pay the woman and Pilar solidly told Patty that we needed more time to think this through. I felt so proud of Pilar in that moment.
I saw another side of her. It was a very practical side. It wasn’t necessary for me to step up and make the decisions all the time. Here I was ready to buy the bank and Pilar saved the day. I felt very taken care of in the moment and I decided that in our next encounter I would trust Pillar’s ability to weigh the pros and cons of what we’d be getting into. That pretty much became our dynamic in similar situations for the remainder of the trip. Someone would approach us, I would start to open my mouth, then look over at Pilar. She’d ask most of the important questions; then I’d say, “Whatever she wants.” That was a different experience for me; to look to someone else to be the decision maker. For most of my life, and most of my relationships, I was the one who was the one who was expected to do this. This role change had me feeling quite out of my element. Ultimately I found it OK. Of course, I didn’t completely stay out of the decision making process, but I did, for the most part, defer to Pilar.
We finally got smarter about how to deal with the “Information Providers”. We developed different techniques for dealing. Initially I found myself sucked in by my guilt at not acknowledging someone who was speaking to me; but the people were so persistent. If you gave them any eye contact al all they’d follow you down the street with the pitch. Eventually guilt took a back seat to irritation and we got that what you HAVE to do is just keep walking and not engage them at all. This still didn’t stop them. They would keep talking to you even as you walked by. There you were sometimes at least 15 yards beyond and they would still be talking to you. It was unbelievable!! Finally we were told to just say that we were leaving the next day. That was important. We even harbored guilty feelings around lying about leaving until we realized that we were at times being hounded, even stalked by those people. We quickly came to our sense. Just when we’d recognized all the approaches possible and mastered our rote response; we met Armando.
One night while walking the streets of El Centro we happened upon a man who warmly yelled out to us, “Ola sisters. You from San Francisco or New York? We have a very nice gay community here in Vallarta.” I stopped. The gay community hook got my attention. “OK”, I thought, “now we’ll at least find out some information about the hot gay spots to go to from one of the locals”. Armando was very charming. He informed us that a bustling cultural gay community existed in an area called Pitillal. Told us of how it came to be. Said the gays in Pitillal were very socially and ecologically conscious and the people of Vallarta were very accepting because of the consciousness the gay community brought to the city. We were intrigued.
After about half an hour Armando had provided us with a gay history lesson, shown us photos of his family and invited us back for a free weekend in PV in one of the newest hotels on him. He even promised to give us a deal on any gay connections we might want to take advantage of in the city. This time Pilar was also on board so we signed up for his presentation and went merrily on our way.
Later on that night his story took on another wrinkle.
After a very good meal in a sweet little hidden restaurant where we were serenaded by extremely talented mariachis, we preceded to find the local gay bar called Paco Paco. The bar had about 4 floors and it seemed like each floor had a bar along with the possibility of different types of music. When we arrived on this particular Monday night around 11p, it was about empty; but still charming. Especially as we went toward the rooftop. Just about at the top of the roof was a large terraced area where you could completely escape the music and get to know someone better. The décor was brick and wrought iron with an old Spanish Villa sort of look. When we got to the roof there were even more tables with a huge bar in the middle. The sound system was blaring show tunes; Streisand, Midler, etc … and the bar attendees that night looked like mostly older gay white men and a handful of locals. All men though.
Notwithstanding its sparse attendance, the bar maintained character. It was easy to imagine a time during the weekends when every floor would be packed with wall to wall men. As you ascended the various levels experiencing everything from disco to electronica, and finally arriving at show tunes. On every floor you’d smell remnants of ammo nitrate and notice small, yet constant groups of men going in and out the restroom. Upon egress you’d find their speech would be accelerated, pupils dilated and their spirits emancipated. The rooms were now peaceful and quiet as the faithful few shared their familiar nightly cocktail and awaited the coming weekend.
It was nice to be here with Pilar without the bustling crowd. The view from the terrace was amazing. In one direction you could see peacefully glowing lights shining from large villas dotted throughout the hillside. In the other direction you could see the energetic activity of the city nightlife below. The wind blew a nice cooling breeze finally offering respite from the constancy of the dank humidity. What a find Paco Paco was. I was feeling exuberant and in love. Pilar’s beauty glowed as I looked across at her in the candlelight. I leaned over to kiss her. This was the first kiss we shared in the open air of Mexico. Some old familiar slow song played and we got up to dance. At the end of the dance I pressed her body against a nearby wall and looked deeply into her twinkling eyes. We then shared a more passionate kiss which sent a tingle that traveled all the way to my throbbing clitoris. I felt so much joy in that moment we shared. Throughout the night she leaned into my arms while we experienced the total pleasure of being in love.
Eventually a sweet little scrawny man walked up and introduced himself as “Mike”. An ex San Franciscan who’d been living in PV for about 5 years. He conducted tours and organized the gay cruise. He talked with us for a while telling us about the PV gay life. Eventually we signed on to go on his cruise on Thursday. I mentioned to Mike about our encounter with Armando and asked his take on the gay life in Pitillal his response was one of shock. He kindly informed us that we had been “misinformed”. Pitillal was described as somewhat like the ‘hood with no gay sympathizers that he was aware of. He was intrigued to learn how we came about that information and got quite a kick out of Armando’s hook calling us “sisters”. For the rest of the time there every time Mike greeted us it was with the playful endearment of “sisters”.
We found a diverse offering of things to do while there but all our hearts seemed to really want to do was find a place on the beach somewhere and relax; so most of our days included just that. Five out of eight days there we were plopped somewhere on somebody’s stretch of beach. Our first really lengthy beach time took place Monday afternoon after we went in search of Vallarta’s famous IHOP, called Memo’s. All the books we’d read recommended Memo’s as a must for breakfast. I hadn’t quite gotten a taste for the food. Probably because the first few days found us ordering California type cuisine.
So here we were; again on my insistence. We traveled thousands of miles to seek out an “authentic Mexican pancake house”? Needless to say, the pancakes weren’t what I’d had in mind. The way things would usually go is like this. We’d go in search of some eating establishment based on my urging. It would usually be quite a trek. Somewhere along the way one or both of us would become grumpy about something. We’d finally get there and I’d complain because the food didn’t have the familiar taste that I was used to; and Pilar would be fine with it. Then I’d begin to get agitated because I felt like such a loser and started feeling insecure about whether Pilar was enjoying traveling with me; then I’d get quiet. Pilar would feel uncomfortable because I was so quiet, then she would start believing that I just didn’t like traveling with her … and so the dance went.
On this particular day after realizing that food just wasn’t gonna taste the same. After accepting the fact that we were in another country and probably would do best ordering the food that country specialized in. Finally; I was able to let go of my illusions and get on with trying to really experience the environment that I was in. Pilar apparently had no problem with that concept. As a matter-of-fact; preferred to do just that. I think I was a bit annoyed with her as well as myself because it took me so long to get it.
So there we were at Memo’s. Me unhappy. Pilar starting to get unhappy. Both of us were trying to recover from tensions of her birthday the previous night (but that’s another story). We needed to talk and we knew it. Right next to us within a whisper’s distance were these two gay men. One of the men obviously wanted to talk. We were cordial but I was uncomfortable because I wanted to process. We put on our happy faces, talked it up a bit. At least long enough to find out where the gay beach was; then we packed up our unresolved business and headed for the beach to sun and process.
The gay portion of the beach was located in front of a little cantina called Tito’s. It was a typical gay male scene. There they all sat in direct sunlight with skimpy trunks designed to accentuate their penis; seemingly trying to get as black as possible. Of course a large portion of the men who sat there were white and definitely not thinking of us. As a matter-of-fact I think we walked up barely unnoticed. This was fine. We took a couple of the available chairs in the shade and eventually got to a point where we were able to actually listen and understand some the hurt we each carried around. I think it took us about an hour to let go and get to a point where we could talk. All during the time we talked I noticed a particular paying a great deal of attention to Pilar. So here I am, already mad and this guy is standing there obviously trying to pick her up. It hadn’t really bothered me until he started to get personal with her.
He included me in on the conversation only in passing. At one point he commented on my nose ring, and then he quickly started in with Pilar asking if she had any piercing anywhere else. She said “No”, but he obviously wanted to get more personal. He pushed on, “what about on your nipples?” … no? … Well then what about down further; he gestures toward her clitoris. “No!” she said, only a bit annoyed, “Nowhere!” I can’t remember what followed, I was only glad that he finally went away. As the sun grew hotter, Pilar naturally removed more layers.
I hadn’t noticed that she’d opened her shorts a bit, but you can believe the little man had. All of a sudden, like a flash, he was over there asking if Pilar wanted something else. I hadn’t really noticed what had brought him over; I just noticed that he’d made a beeline. When I saw him look down at her opened pants I knew what this special trip was all about.
He started some superficial conversation so that he could direct his attention to her anatomy, then reached down and started touching her stomach. I was through. I thought this to be completely inappropriate, but I felt powerless to say anything since Pilar and I were going through it. I know that I did look up at him like he was crazy, then I just put my sunglasses on and turned my head. I knew that I had honest to God jealousy issues. So until the little man went away I just sucked in my anger so as not to make a fool of myself.
I must say though that my jealousy issues were certainly challenged there in Mexico. Every time I turned around some man was trying to pick up on her. I know that she never, not once, disrespected me. I also know how charming she is so I could easily understand the attraction. She kept saying that she didn’t understand why she was getting all of this attention because she didn’t get it back home. But I knew. I told her one day that ever since she’d gotten there she smelled like pussy. It was the pheromones, and it was driving me crazy too.
One day as we walked downtown a couple of men tried to pick up on me. Right away Pilar said, “I guess you smell like pussy today”; and I knew considering the morning we’d had, that was probably true.
Our vacation had so many highs and lows. It was really quite a ride. I believe now that the lows were so devastating because of the expectations we held that every moment would be totally blissful. What we discovered is that sometimes you peel a layer and you might not know what you’ll uncover. A major portion of our trip involved just that; uncovering layers.
We’d never spent an entire week with each other before and even though we’d said that spending this week together would be somewhat like a test; I don’t think we actually thought that anything would come up to really test us. We were wrong. We constantly challenged by our differences. From the moment we arrived we had to contend with such things as differences in class and consciousness, preferences for city dwellings as opposed to tourist accommodations, sleep preferences, issues around feeling smothered and rejected, control issues, as well as issues around lack of control. I mean they were all there on vacation with us and they ran the gamut. Things we didn’t even realize were still issues came up for us and things that we thought we’d worked through were as apparent as if they’d never been discussed before. It was work during a period when the idea of working was what we were supposed to have escaped from.
We thought we had remembered everything and forgotten nothing in preparation for this trip. But what we forgot to remember was that we were still in the process of getting to know each other, and the jubilance we brought with us also had its mate in heartache. What we found is that if we remained real then we were forced to deal when hard things came up for us.
One of the hardest days for us came on a Thursday morning. I guess we’d just had our fill of issues. Mine was a desire for more attention. Pilar wanted for freedom. I was feeling extremely hurt and unnoticed. I couldn’t understand why we’d come all the way down here for this romantic vacation to have such distance between us. I was used to going to bed each night cuddling. Waking during the middle of the night saying “I love you”. Sex either before we went to sleep or when we woke up; and at least a shared touch between us during the night.
Some nights I didn’t even get a touch. My wish list was dwindling down to a hope that I’d be at least noticed if I left the bed we shared and went to sleep in another. My already effected self esteem was dissipating to nothing and I felt that everything I did was just driving Pilar further and further away. All I wanted was the same attention I was used to getting before we’d left. I didn’t understand what I’d done to create such a wall of distance and indifference. It seemed the more I attempted to bring her back the more she would pull away. Finally when I could take it no longer I quietly slid over to the other bed; all the while hoping that Pilar would notice and least ask me why I left. Hours went by and even though I could hear her stirring, at some point even coughing in the middle of the night, still not acknowledgement that I’d gone over to the other bed.
I began to feel more and more hurt and angry. Had I gotten on her nerves that much? Was she glad that I’d gone and slept in another bed? Why? What changed in her to want that? I didn’t understand. This started to feel familiar. Old stuff from other relationships started to come up for me. I felt hurt and powerless but what followed even I wasn’t prepared for. I lay in the bed hurting and brooding but I couldn’t keep still. My hurt took me out on the balcony where I sat bewildered, hoping she’d notice. Nothing. I felt rejected so I started to give myself this talk. “Don’t go off and put Pilar in a position of feeling defensive”. I made myself go back to sleep and calm down; but I was hurting and I didn’t know what to do about the pain I was feeling.
Finally morning arrived and I still hadn’t stopped brooding. It took all that had just to respond in a civil manner. When she awoke so cheery saying “morning baby!” I could hardly contain myself. I was thinking here she goes trying to ignore my pain because she doesn’t want to deal. I became even more furious so that the “hello” that I returned was really the best that I could do in my effort to maintain myself. After a further pause she finally replied, “Is there something wrong?” Now I was really ready to burst. I thought, “Of course there’s something wrong. I’ve waited all night for you to notice me and now you’re acting all unaware.” Still pushing things back I responded in an equally dry “yes”. All the while debating in my head whether I was ready to open to her and show her how hurt I was feeling. To somehow let her know how much I wanted to be wanted. Had I calmed down enough to honestly share my heart so that she’d be less defensive? I didn’t know. But she seemed to want to know my heart so I took a chance. I tried to tell her as best I could without pushing her away how much I wanted to be touched. How much I’d missed her simple touch during the night. I’d hoped by being gentle she could hear me. I wanted so much to just have her hear and understand my pain.
It was too late. By now she’d already had enough of me. She didn’t really want to know what was bothering me. She didn’t want to deal with anymore of my wants. She just wanted to get through the rest of the week and contemplate the idea of saying goodbye forever after we returned. I could feel that and I was afraid so I started to push for her to talk to me; but I had gone too far. She couldn’t handle it. I’d pushed her to the limit. She was also afraid of having to say goodbye but she was fighting to maintain her independence as well.
I couldn’t hear that. We both closed off our hearing to each other. I could feel her slipping further and further away and I felt so powerless. But I pushed on. That was my way. I needed to know what was going on. What was she thinking and not saying. Where had she gone that I could not join her? I treaded further into a place that was not meant for me. I wanted to know if it was too late. She could not hear my heart breaking. She only had enough energy to retreat to the place where she knew there was safety and there was only room for her in that place. She could not take care of me. She was letting go. She was giving up. I could see that. I could feel it, and I could do nothing about it. Then she said, “This isn’t working for me.” The words seem to fill the room. For a moment everything in the room including my heartbeat, seemed to stop. Something inside snapped and all of the fears I had of Pilar falling out of love with me came pouring from my eyes in the form of tears.
I felt myself spiraling out of control. I couldn’t believe it. How did this happen. How could she give up on us so quickly? I lost it and went into a rage. I knew I was out of control. I felt so hurt and misunderstood. I saw the past and the future flashing before me in red and I watched as she sat there staring in seeming indifference. I threw things, broke things, beat beds, tore clothes, and gnashed my teeth; but nothing changed the stony indifferent look on her face. I stared deeply into her face and saw the face of a previous ex who had broken my heart … I stared even longer and saw the face of my mother’s stern scowl. I felt all of the rage of a child who has no choices. I felt like a child and acted out like a child. I packed my bags preparing to leave. She thought it was anger, but more than that; it was shame.
I was scared and I really had nowhere to go. I just wanted to look back at her face and see that she really cared. I cried and raged. Then something touched her as well. She asked me where I was going. I raged back “what do you care”, she said “I love you”, and she started crying. I instantly felt my heart soften. I wanted to go to her but my pride was too deep. Instead I tried to numb my pain by escaping into a bottle of tequila. I sat on the balcony hoping she would come to me. She came only to tell me that she was also leaving for a drink. I couldn’t stand to see her walk out the door. I didn’t know what to do. I stood in the doorway and started crying. In my heart I begged her not to leave. I wished that she could hear me and not walk out the door, and somehow she did. Something softened her. She was also hurt, scared and crying but she didn’t walk out the door. We cried and cried together. We held each other and went deep in our tears.
We cried not only at our actions in the present but also at the way we had been raised. We didn’t know any better and we were only protecting ourselves. More layers were uncovered. The pain of the week had peeled back to some unresolved issues. In our calm we listened and developed respect for each other. We had much work to do. We weren’t as far as along as we thought in making this relationship work. But we wanted to try. Maybe that was what this vacation was supposed to show us all along.
We held each other tightly for such a long time, going deep in our heads; and when we came together again this time it was to make love. I remember this time feeling especially gentle. Each kiss felt so significant and I felt so grateful to be given another chance tow work through this process with Pilar.
When we left it seemed like the hard times had overshadowed any of the happiness, but as I sat writing I was reminded of the many fond memories that we collected as well.
When remembering the good times my mind returns to the two gay men that we made a brief acquaintance with at the pancake house. We ran into them again a few other times. Once as we sunned near Tito’s. We sat playing scrabble watching as the people parasailed above. I wish I could say that the parasailing was uneventful, but one of them (Ernest) almost guided his parasail right into a building. It was scary to watch really. There he was obviously not able to control his landing. All of the guides below were frantically yelling for him to pull some sort of string that was supposed to guide him down, but he just kept floating closer and closer toward the building … the people below on the beach started to scatter while Pilar and I watched in horror thinking we were about to witness a fatality. Then Ernest somehow righted himself and made a grand, though apparently painful landing atop one of the palapas.
Well you know all the gay men just couldn’t let that go. Everyone gave him a standing ovation for the valiant effort. I even remember one guy holding up a score indicating “7” for the landing. I thought that was so wrong … I’d of given him at least a “9”; and you know the poor man had to be ashamed; but he played it off. Later Pilar, in typical Pilar style, went over to see how he was. Not long after that … they bonded.
So; all this leads up to the point where Pilar and I connected with them again. One day we decided to take a taxi ride about half an hour outside of the city to this place called Chico’s Paradise. It was beautiful there. It’s a restaurant up in the mountains, off in the jungle. The temperature was about 20 degrees cooler that it was in town and so it was a nice refreshing change. We sat outside surrounded by trees with a sweet little waterfall beneath us. The local kids were below playing in the water; doing tricks for money. The younger ones would use the slipperiness of the rock like a waterslide. Each time they slid in they’d do a little trick and come out asking for a few pesos for their efforts. In another portion of the river some older boys were attempting more dangerous feats by jumping from a fairly tall rock into the rough running waters below.
Pilar and I noticed them, but we had mixed feelings about encouraging them to perform for us. So we pretty much concentrated on the humungous margaritas that had so nicely been placed in front of us. Not only were they circus sized; but they were potent. Slowly all the tensions that we’d brought with us started to mingle with the tequila from the drinks and soon we were feeling no pain. About that time who should sit across from us but Ernest, Gary and another friend of theirs named Jerry (Jerry was pretty much a killjoy so I’ll only give him an honorable mention and move on). Most of the fun we shared came from the connection with Ernest and Gary.
As Pilar and I sat there getting shitake, Pilar had the foresight to ask the guys if we could get a ride back to town with them. They cheerfully agree, and thus began our day of partying with the boys.
Our first stop was the location where they shot the movie “Predator”. Believe me; checking out the leftovers of a so-so movie was not high on my list! Whereas the guys, and especially Gary, wanted to do and see it all; we were merely catching a ride back home. Or so I thought. Let me tell you we ended up having a blast out there with all of the “Predator” shit.
First of all, to get to the location was a bit of a trek. There we were in a drop top jeep going deeper and deeper into the jungle. Granted; we never left the paved road, but to a woman who is extremely phobic of snakes (such as myself), in my mind I had much cause for concern. Luckily, I never once encountered a snake the whole trip. But I’m not gonna lie … it did cross my mind.
Anyway; so we get to the sight and naturally there’s a ton of cars there; all trying to see what was left behind on the “Predator” set. A paper machete helicopter, more palapas that covered a restaurant … “Okay”, I’m thinking, “I’ve seen enough … we can go now”. But Gary wants to proceed further and see what else was below us and out of our sight. We’re game. We go. We people sitting all around in the palapa covered restaurant, drinking and eating; and of course everywhere you turn somebody was trying to sell something. As we ventured even further we saw what looked like a slice of paradise … below the restaurant was this large pond being by a small but steady waterfall. There were about 50 people of various ages and ethnicities doing everything from sliding into the river with the waterfall; to jumping in from a rope that hung above. The day was so hot; some just stood around in the water for its coolness and chatted. The place was just bustling with activity; it was in that moment that I felt gratitude for Gary’s adventurous spirit. After a brief conference we all decided that we wanted to spend a little time there.
Pilar, Ernest, and Gary quickly disrobed and joined the others in the water below. Gary went in search of new adventures while Pilar and Ernest spent just about the entire time in the water, chatting and bonding even more. From the corner of my eye I could see Gary jump from a ledge into the water. A few minutes later he was dangling on a rope above the water. You couldn’t keep up with him. I watched from above and decided I was happy just being the official photographer. Watching Gary reminded me of one of those people who constantly stretch the boundaries of safety, lamenting how they want to do it all … I guess there’s as much room for those people in this world as it is for people like me who return to say “I lived to see it all”.
So, there I was sitting on the sidelines capturing it all on film … then I started to catch a case of MMS (Might Miss Something). I tried to play if off; sucking on my beer, watching everybody below yuk it up. There I was with my nice little phony smile, sending this “don’t worry I’m fine up here doin’ what I’m doin’ “vibe; but when Gary returned and generously offered his towel to me ... Honey, I was down there like a shot. I kind of drifted in, cooled off, played alone in my little section of the pool for a minute and then I was out. The waters’ coolness took me by surprise. I’d gotten used to the tepid water we’d grown accustomed to while in Mexico. This; this kind of felt like the cool waters of the Pacific along the southern coast of California. Here it was nice and not as cool. I got just what I needed from that elegant little dip then returned to assume my duties as official photographer.
Finally when we’d done just about all that we could do there we loaded up our little party and headed for (what I thought was) home. But Gary would no part of that sedentary lifestyle.
“Relaxing?”, “What was that?”, “We are on vacation and we’re gonna do it all!!!”
So much for free will. Off we went to try and find the set where they had been shooting for the TV series “Conan”. We found out that PV was big on featuring movie locations. As a matter-of-fact it was the movie “Night of the Iguana” that helped to bring this island to prominence … or at least what started the tourist influx. Now you can’t shake a cat with running into some “Night of the Iguana” memorabilia somewhere. I hear they even have a statue of John Huston, Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton erected somewhere on the island. Okay for the Hollywood digression, back to my story
We found the Conan set, but they were packing up for the day. Honestly, I don’t think we missed much. It was just people in the jungle doing their job. Thankfully we quickly moved on; but like I said, we weren’t finished yet. The guys had apparently come across this small developing pueblo before finding the movie set. Gary, the adventurer, decided that this was a “must see”. He seemed especially taken with t at the term “Coco Lite” which some lady used as a reference for Diet Coke. I’m tellin’ you it didn’t take much to amuse Gary. He was like a little kid.
Gary was once again reunited with Coco Lite and when were treated to a mini tour which took us even deeper into the little town. It was strangely cute. A mix of old adobe and brick homes that were just starting to be built. A few of the people were hanging out in the street; though mostly children and they watch intently as we slowed passed by. I struggled once again with conflicting feelings about being a voyeur into other people’s lives. Watching them as they went about their lives as if observing another species in their natural habitat. It felt disrespectful and I could almost feel the disdain reflected from the faces of those we observed.
Still, there were some things I found quite fascinating. As far back as the little town was located it still had not escaped tourism. After all, we were tourist and had somehow managed to discover it. From the looks of the advertisements we were not the first to make such a discovery. There was a tiny little open air market selling groceries, produce and in English, souvenirs. Looking into the homes we noticed the furnishings seemed to be contemporary. The cars parked near the homes seemed somewhat new. We passed one property and two or three jet skis sat perched against the wall in a state of neglect. We decided that the people who populated the town must have been somewhat affluent relative to the average PV income. All in all, the ride was interesting.
Now, I assumed, we were heading back toward home. That thought quickly dissipated when Gary spotted a sign for a restaurant called El Nogolito. His adventurous spirit would not have us pass yet another opportunity to explore. Upon Gary’s insistence we headed the jeep in the direction of “the little walnut”.
The already narrow road compressed at some points to a throughway that was probably just big enough for a bug (the car), to get through. The road wound around and meandered up slight inclines as Gary got precariously close to the edge at several points. All I have to say is “Thank God we were in a jeep!” Finally, nerves still thankfully in tact, we came upon this quaint little walnut grove with an old shack at the edge of it. The shack looked deserted but the grove was tranquil. Gary and Jerry decided to go over and see if the restaurant was open. Pilar, Ernest and I decided to go look around the grove a bit.
I, once again, became hyper-sensitive around the possibilities of snake encounters. Just as my tensions were beginning to ease something shot through the brush. All of my muscles tightened. If not for the tightening muscles that held me there I’d of probably been back in the jeep in one leap. Having already been informed of my phobia, Ernest quickly turned to me and said, “don’t worry, that was just an Iguana.” I got news for him … that didn’t help calm me down, but I figured I could do Iguana much easier than snake; or at least I hoped that I could. In any case, Pilar became my extra set of eyes helping me get through this little discovery with a minimal amount of anxiety. Soon it really became okay. Not very far ahead of us yet still deeper through the brush was this small little babbling brook. Pilar and Ernest were making noise about checking that out. I knew that I’d come to my limit and I quietly decided that I’d just head on back to the jeep.
Just about that time Gary and Jerry returned from their sign survey saying the restaurant looked closed and it didn’t even look like the shack operated as the restaurant.
“Oh well”, I thought, “we gave it a try”. We were all in agreement about how beautiful the grounds had been maintained. There were well cared for flowers and trees in the distance and the fairly large parking lot was pretty well maintained as well. When you looked at the dilapidated shack and its surroundings the picture just didn’t fit; or else the food was just so damn good you just wrote off the old raggedy shack off as ambiance. We were just preparing to leave when someone noticed a sign almost hidden beneath a bush that said “El Nogolito” with an arrow pointing deeper into the flower bed. We ventured on and quickly found a paved path. Walking up the path we saw that the careful ground maintenance we’d seen near the parking lot had extended to the flowers on either side of the path. Wonderful smells were coming from the flowers. This was such a nice surprise to discover.
Then we saw the restaurant. It was beautiful. The entire restaurant was completely open, insulated only by the flower beds that surrounded it. It was covered by what was probably either a palapa or a tiled roof overhead. The interior design seemed a mixture of old world and contemporary. It was tastefully proportioned and a delight for the eyes. We were instantly greeted by a young somewhat handsome young man who spoke to us in English. We were still full from eating at Chico’s Paradise but Gary needed to see what was offered on the menu. He reported back that the fare seemed reasonable with appealing sounding descriptions. We all decided we’d return when we weren’t so full and could then better appreciate the food. Finally; quite pleased with ourselves, off we went.
I finally decided to stop worrying about where our next destination was going to be and just sit back and accept the fact that Pilar and I had been abducted for the day. It wasn’t so bad either. As a matt-of-fact we’d both expressed that we were having a pretty good day. Besides, I thought, this time with the boys provided us with a little from our bickering. So I accepted it for what it was and sat back to see where else Pilar and Gary had in mind for us that day.
Next stop; the boys condo … Gary and Ernest were apparently enjoying our company just as much as we been enjoying theirs, so we got an invite to come up and hang out a little while and have a few drinks. Helpful hint: Be aware that having just a few drinks to some gay men is the equivalent to the restraint it must take for some lesbians not to live together after a month of dating. Certainly in the case of Gary and Ernest, a few drinks translated to “find a designated driver”.
So, there we sat in their beautiful multi-level condo listening to k.d. lang (which we later found out was played especially for us. This was fine. It apparently came from their “just in case a dyke drops by stash”. It was a sweet gesture and just grateful they didn’t have any Theresa Trull. As soon as we sat down we were offered a drink. Ok, why not, I thought. We’ll probably just chat for awhile, run out of things to say and in about an hour we’d be on our way. Nope. That was not the case. Geo, Ernest and Gary never had any problems coming up with things to say during the course of the day. It was me struggling that struggled with my ever present insecurity around whether I’d be witty enough or enjoyable to be around. My inhibitions were slowly released into each new bottle of beer until finally, somewhere into the second hour of our visit; I just couldn’t be shut up. We sat around getting more and more familiar and soon Pilar and I agreed on extending the day even further by inviting the guys to have dinner on us that night. They guys were so tickled by the invite but they, of course, wouldn’t have the “poor” lesbians treating them. So we agreed to go Dutch (where does that come from “to go Dutch?”. There had to be a Spanish equivalent of the word. After all were in Mexico). But we still had at least a couple of more hours to hang before we expect our hunger to return.
At some point in the conversation one of the guys told us how much they were paying weekly for the condo … I think it was $750; which was a great deal considering that it could sleep 3-6 people, had an excellent view of the town and then out to the bay. It was right up the street from downtown and very near the gay area, and it was tastefully decorated with a full kitchen and terraced rooms. There was also a huge balcony with the same spectacular town and bay view; it could easily accommodate 20 – 30 people for a party. But they were not “gaudy “Liberace” gay”. Their requirements, though simple were very specific. A Spanish style feels with contemporary and airy appointments. The necessity for tasteful decoration came up as another “must have” on their list of requirements. Pilar and I went on so about how nice the place was; they suggested that we take a look at some of the other places that might more fit our budget. They also seemed sensitive to the fact women generally tend to make less money than men. When we inquired about an even less expensive condo, Ernest quickly went in search of the landlord to find out if it was possible to get a unit there we they stayed. When the landlord returned we were treated to a tour of one of the less expensive places. It was all so sweet to be so taken care of. That’s also probably part of the reason we hung all day.
On our way back Gary pointed out some of the vegetation that surrounded the condo. High above us looked like a banana tree and just to the side of the house sat a mango tree. The boys informed us that it was okay to take some of the mangos, so I being the only butch available, decided to climb the tree and get a sample.
After we sat around listening to all we could stand of k.d. lang we climbed two more flights of stairs, drinks in hand, to get to the balcony. Here we got into conversations about everything from classic movies to politics. It was within the discussion of (Gary’s) politics that we felt the most discomfort. Gary was the republican of the group. He’d done well in some type of insurance business and like most white men of means; felt that his political allegiance should naturally ally with the party that would do most to propagate his wealthy status. Then there was Ernest who seemed to be more in allegiance with our politics. Ernest was a social worker in New York. He was Puerto Rican that spoke fluent Spanish and worked with immigrants and families in need.
It was interesting to see their contrasting dynamic. Gary was a pudgy, fair-haired man probably in about his early 30’s. He was the most forceful of the two, forever dominating the conversation and always with a never ending attempt at being the center of attention. His vanity seeped through several times, especially once when we’d left the “Predator” sight. We were all completely soaked and as soon as Gary got back to his backpack he pulled out a comb, got a mirror and began to stroke his starting-to-thin hair.
Some of Gary’s ways did get to Pilar and I after a while. How condescending he was to the waiters, in his obvious familiarity at being served, coupled with a total disregard toward thanking those whose services he received. It was something in his arrogance, something connected to feeling that he deserved things (and others didn’t), which made me at times dislike his company and silently thank myself that people such as this were not a part of my personal life.
While Ernst, a man of 50, and a dead ringer for the actor Roscoe Lee Brown Jr. was on the other hand somewhat demure; only sharing tidbits of his story as his comfort level increased.
So private was he that when the rest of us freely shared wine-induced tales of past relationships, he remained silent. Finally, through Pilar’s urging, he gave up a few details. Just enough for me to realize that the one big relationship in his life had caused him much pain and was still apparently quite difficult for him to reminisce on. Once I noticed that I tried to respect his privacy. Just about that time he confided that I could ask Pilar about the details some other time; that he’d shared more with her than he had with just about any other person. I left it at that.
Pilar and I initially thought that Gary and Ernest were lovers in a May-December relationship. Instead we observed a very loving and endearing 20 year friendship. During the course of the night and in spite of all of their differences, we were treated to just how much they loved each other. At different times during the day I’d noticed Gary doting over Ernest. Urging him to be careful about this, that or the other. They bickered lovingly back and forth. Ernest was the cautious one, always admonishing Gary, the risk taker, for pushing things to the edge. Gary took it all in stride though, getting off on showing off and working Ernest’s last nerves.
Theirs was a true testament to friendship. Although you could tell that at times Gary’s’ conservative politics worked Ernest; the differences never showed to be insurmountable. For the most part they respectfully tolerated each other and at times when Gary’s opinions would be to much, Ernest would lean over and whisper disapproval in my and Pilar’s ears. It was never malicious. We always had the feeling that Ernest had a good idea of the person that he called friend.
Pilar and I were wiped out from the day and thoroughly drunk. The boys were making noise about going to Paco Paco and dancing. We’d had enough. We just couldn’t hang anymore. We could barely even see straight and it took all that I had to walk straight from the restaurant to the car. Truth be told, I’m sure I was weaving. The evening finally ended. We hugged Gary and Ernest goodbye and made tentative plans to hook up one last time for lunch at El Nogolito before we left.
The next day Pilar and I were supposed to go to the gay “booze” cruise. Of course boozin’ was the last thing on our minds. We were just hoping we’d get through the night without getting sick from all of the drinking that day. Needless to say, most of our night was spent either watching the ceiling spinning around; or face down in the toilet looking at the contents of our stomachs doing the same. It wasn’t pretty. Sometime early in the morning I started to feel better. I’m sorry to say the same couldn’t be said for Pilar. Poor baby was sick almost the whole day, but she was a sport though. We got up and somewhere between the time we left the room and before we got to their pier … we got into another argument.
I mean I’m tellin’ you we were both through by this time. Just sick and tired of going through it; then on top of our disagreement there was Pilar looking green. I’d told her that we could skip the cruise but she didn’t want to spoil this trip for me. By this time I wasn’t deeply set on going on the cruise. Upon reflection I’m glad we didn’t miss it.
There Pilar and I sat. No telling what we looked like. I noticed the only other two dykes on the trip came near us like they wanted to start up a conversation. We weren’t feeling it and uncharacteristic of my social Libra nature, I didn’t engage them. I was thinking “I gave to the social goddess last night by supplying a generous contribution of diatribe while hanging with Gary and Ernest”. I tried the “let’s just put our arguing behind us for a few hours” approach but we were still reeling so recovery was slow to come. I started to loosen up a bit as we boarded the boat. Everybody was just so happy and soon a smile even worked its way onto Pilar’s face as well. Still, we were honest-to-God sick to the stomach. Not only was he not feeling well, she was NOT feeling me either. I felt bad for her and tried every way that I could to comfort her, but I quickly found out that she just wanted to be left alone. Finally I got that and let her be. Meanwhile I connedted with this jovial dyke from San Antonio named Leticia.
Leticia had me rolling from the moment she sat down beside me. She was just what I needed and in between her quips and snaps she informed me that this vacation was both a healing and celebratory time for her. The genesis for the vacation was to celebrate her 50th birthday. There were about 11 others from her party on the cruise vacationing with her and all came fully prepared to party. Leticia’s other reason for vacationing was to get away from the pain over a breakup of a 19 year lesbian relationship. I couldn’t imagine what that must have felt like and my heart instantly went out to her. Something about her made me quickly feel welcome and she confided in me that she felt similarly.
Leticia (pronounced LeTee CYA) was large, loud and down to earth. My kinda dyke. There we were cracking and joking from the start. Actually I was torn. While I wanted to just let go and laugh with Leticia I also felt bad for Pilar sitting beside me and at any moment apt to blow. When I reminded myself that Pilar still just wanted to be left alone, I began my connection with Leticia. She was so warm and curious. So open and unpretentious. These are the people that capture my attention and make me want to linger in their company. Leticia was a master storyteller. She took me in and out of stories about her life, all the while remaining center of attention to the loving entourage that came with her. She loved the attention, you could tell, and quickly shunned those who couldn’t accept her loudness. That was about the time she shared with me that she and one member of the party did not click. Something about the other woman being a repressed prude and Leticia’s insistence upon remaining real and true to herself. What could you say … herself was loud … so you either accepted that or sat unhappy on the boat that day lamenting your choice of a cruise. The boat was too small to avoid contact with Leticia and her personality was too large to let you get around making contact with her.
Letting our connection in, I began to open up to her. Not everything. Not the part that included the hard times there with Pilar. No … instead found another ally to share with race, class and family.
Leticia is Latina. She comes from a very large and extremely close family. She spoke of her love for them and anguished about the absence of a lesbian community in San Antonio. Fortunately for her, her family took the place of where most of place our friends in the gay community. They provided support for her during her hard times. Especially during times such as the break up. They accepted and stood by her when she needed comfort, especially after situations in which she encountered racism. They were a nurtured and respected her and they loved her unconditionally. She spoke of a father that worked hard and came from poverty to obtain middle class standing to send most of his children through college. She glowed when she spoke of her father. The love was obvious but not so much so when she spoke of her mother. Circumstances had caused each of them much pain. She described a mother unable to hear her needs around acceptance. Just as you could see the love when she spoke of her father, you could hear the honest pain when she shared stories of her relationship with her mother.
All of the partying that was taking place around us seemed blocked out as I listened to Leticia. Our body language told of the connection and somewhere along the way I’d found myself putting my arm around her as she talked about how difficult it had been for her going through this break up. Several times she came close to crying. She needed to talk as well and expressed gratitude more than once that I was willing to listen.
I sat there empathizing with her pain …. beginning to feel bad. I started to feel like a voyeur. Listening in on her pain and not sharing mine. This guilt took me out of the moment wondering if I should open up and let her into my world. Finally, I let go. I figured what she needed was someone to sincerely listen to her. I understood that, and that was important. What I needed was to feel connected. We were both ultimately getting what each of us needed … back out of my head I went to join Leticia. Just about that time she started to get lighter. She changed the theme of her stories so that she could prepare herself for the party. She said something like “that is enough of that”. I guess she’d gotten what she needed for the time being. She looked at me with a big smile, we shared a hug and she said “Let’s party. Have a drink with me?” I was torn. It was drinking to excess that had me the night before. I was just starting to feel my feet again. Did I dare?
I looked over at Pilar, stroked her neck, and asked how she was doing. She was still sick. I debated a while longer around starting the party in this way. I checked the time. It was about 11am … that caused me further concern. Then I reasoned to myself that I was on vacation. I felt like letting go. I would have a few drinks, loosen up, then stop … so Leticia and I ordered a shot of tequila and the party began …
Leticia’s entourage knew exactly who the tequila was for when they saw the waiter bringing the shots toward us. But something about Leticia’s style wouldn’t let her just down the shot without engaging the other members of her group. No … first she tried to get some of them to join us. After most protested they were call “wusses” or something like that. Then when our shots came I got the introduction as her new friend. We turned to face the group and among whooping and howling … we both downed our shots. It was kind of exciting for me to be included in her group of fun loving and raucous friends. I got caught up in the prestige of being “Leticia’s Friend” for a moment. She turned to me and asked if I wanted to do another. In the shadow of this fun loving woman readied myself to say “yes”; then something stopped me. I quickly glanced over at Pilar, trying her best not to loose her stomach to the ocean. I saw visions of myself lying face down yet another night hating that I couldn’t say “no”. Almost sheepishly, I said “no”. I waited to be called a “wuss” or something like that, but Leticia just laughed and said “maybe later” and went on playfully quipping and cracking with the guys in her group.
I turned my attention back to Pilar. She was starting to let me in a little more now. See that’s how it works with Pilar. I’m learning how to let go and give her space. I know that if I honor that wish it won’t take long for her to desire my company again. She allowed me to pamper her but I found that my pampering would only be a drop in the bucket to the heavy doses of pampering she’d receive from the entire boat that day. Leticia looked over and inquired about Pilar. I said “no improvement”. Quickly she calls the waiter and asks for some aspirin and some water for Pilar. The day was hot and I’m sure that wasn’t helping Pilar. Leticia soaked the bandana that she wore in cold water and wrapped it around Pilar’s neck. Pilar seemed grateful. Then Mike, the tour coordinator, came to the front to take food orders. He was that Pilar was still looking ill, and suggested orange juice. He had the waiter bring that to the front. It seemed like every other person had a remedy or suggestion for Pilar’s hangover. They’d all obviously been there before. But the overwhelmingly sweet thing about the whole thing was how nurturing and attentive everyone was toward Pilar. Even though she was sick I knew this was the right place for her. She wouldn’t have gotten this much attention if we’d gone on a straight cruise. Especially around recovering from drinking too much. That was not the case on this boat. Like I said, these men had been there before. No doubt many times before, so they were completely empathetic. It wasn’t until well beyond half way into the trip that Pilar began to come back to life.
As a part of the trip we went to a private island for half of the day. It was so nice. We played freely without the glares and judgments of straight folks. Most of the men were so wasted by the time we left the island, I’m not even sure if some of them remembered the trip. But this was a fun group to hang with in their drunkenness. They were as the saying goes, “happy drunks”. For me, they were mostly entertainment. All I really wanted was to be connected with Geo. So we situated ourselves out of the way under a nice umbrella. She slept and I read my book, occasionally watching as she slept. I turned thoughts over in my head about our difference. I wished our path could be much easier. I felt a hole in my stomach as I thought of us returning home and breaking up. I reached over and touched her, and wondered what she was thinking. Finally she stirred and sat up for awhile. We still hadn’t connected. It was awkward. I tried to act like I was doing okay just reading my book. I didn’t want to show how desperately I wanted us to connect “Let here have her space” a little voice kept saying to me eventually she went off to get in the water. She asked if I wanted to join her. I saw that as a positive but decided to try and work the space thing for a little while longer in hopes that she’d soon want to come back and join me in my space. I declined for the familiar comfort of a book. I tried to loose myself in someone else’s story. I skimmed the pages, vicariously trying to connect with the authors’ description of joy. It was no use. My own reality demanded my full attention. So I returned to it by sneaking glances of Pilar in the water.
She looked so beautiful out there. So sexy and also so sad. I tried again to concentrate on my book. But all I wanted to do was connect with Pilar. I watched her to see if she was also looking over at me. No. She was somewhere else. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore and went near the water to join her. I wasn’t sure if she wanted me there so I preceded cautiously. She seemed indifferent. I wanted more than that. So I kept my distance. She finally beckoned for me to come in the water. That was all I needed. The water felt so good. Like bathwater. It was so salty and we were so buoyant, we found ourselves floating like rubber ducks. Bouncing around. Soon smiles came on our faces and we found ourselves bouncing right into each others’ arms. Oh god how I wanted this. I wondered what she was thinking but neither of us was in the space to go there so I decided not to push; just enjoy the moment; then I started feeling aroused. I held Pilar tightly and she, in turn, held me with a strong grip; but there was an impasse. I kissed her neck and she reciprocated with soft little kisses to my neck. I wanted to cry. I missed her in my life and I didn’t want our vacation to be this way. We kissed again, this time a bit more passionately; then I felt Pilar pull away. I let her go. I guess she wasn’t ready.
I played off in the water by myself for a minute. Pilar seemed deep in thought in another part of the water. Finally we came together again. We’d let a little more of the anger shed. We held each other and began to play, people watching and smiling a bit more. My arousal came back but it frustrated me because I knew that I was the only one in that space. But this time as we held each other I felt here desire return as well. Passion joined us once again, I wanted to feel Pilar’s body so I lifted my shirt and pulled her bathing suit down so that I could feel my breasts against hers. She welcomed me and we held each other this way for awhile. I wished for some private cove we could go to and make love. I held her all the while wishing that the difficult time we were going through in Mexico would just float away into someone else’s life like the debris in the water beneath us. Eventually a nearby couple decided to focus in on our intimate time together. It proved to be enough of a distraction to break up our little groove, but we did seem a little closer. Pilar also seemed to be feeling better. We walked back to our umbrella, still not quite ready to connect and this time we both returned to the safety of our books.
It finally came upon time to leave and typical to the way the week had gone, some straight man (one of the staff on the boat), started trying to pick up on Pilar. It seemed like these men always made advances when we were going through it. Always at a time when I felt most vulnerable … Here this guy was … and I once again felt powerless. They seemed to be making a connection. Something that we hadn’t been able to do. I thought maybe this guy was to Pilar what Leticia had been to me on the trip over. A diversion. A pleasant break away from our pain. Sadly I walked away and waited far away from Pilar and the guy; looking forward to the boat’s return. As I walked I heard some of the others laughing and trying to joke with me but I didn’t look up. I didn’t want to pretend. I just wanted to be somewhere by myself so I could think …
About ten minutes later Pilar came over to where I was. She gently reached for my hand, confirmed that the guy was trying to talk to her, but said she was more interested in being with me. I was touched. Were were still somehow trying to connect. We held each other sharing a sincere hug as if to say, “I’ve been missing you”. Those words, that hug, and the sincerity behind it was just the bridge I needed to feel that a real connection was possible again during this trip. We both seemed lighter on the return than we did on the way up. Pilar was back and my fellow passengers also seemed grateful. Leticia was now wasted but still fun only this time more of my attention was reserved for Pilar. We held hands and felt the boat rocking back and forth. The clouds grew darker and the waves got higher. A storm was coming but our boat, “The Tequila”, kept the party right on course. We sang, kept it merry and drunk the boat completely dry as we pulled into the harbor after the entire boat experienced tequila poppers … yes, that’s right the entire boat; including Pilar.
I wish I could say that the trip was uneventful out from this point forward, but that was not the case. We still apparently had some arguing left in us ... and as I said earlier, a storm was on its way.
The next day was Friday, a day before we were supposed to leave PV. Our plans were to rent a jeep and take a daytrip outside of PV to places not as heavily populated by tourists. The jeep was a splurge. Our gift to ourselves for all the hard shit we’d been through earlier in the week. We felt well on our way to reconnection and decided that getting away would be just the thing we needed to pull some romance back into our vacation.
That night we ate at the hotel. It was a surprisingly good American-type meal. We talked a bit more about our issues and how we wanted to get past the hard stuff and get back to the loving place. Little did we know that this was part of the love. The part that most people want to run from. The part after the honeymoon … but we felt we were moving in a positive direction now. I can barely remember the details of the morning now, I mostly recall a lot of pain and distance.
I’d gone down earlier before we started arguing; before Pilar had awakened to rent the jeep. Now our distance and arguing had taken us far past the morning into the afternoon. It was apparent that the daytrip was out. The jeep just sat there collecting sunrays as we sat upstairs brooding and regretting haven taken this vacation together.
I also don’t remember what exactly made the difference and how in all that pain we managed to sincerely reconnect again. All I know is; we did. As I write this now it seems almost silly to say that each time we reconnected wee did so with sincerity. Yet I believe that we did. I think because issues kept coming up. It felt futile while we were in it and now upon reflection when thinking about all the pain we’ve come through since then I see that every pain we uncover is all part of the process of growing into each other. This is the way to truly get to know one another. Doing the work to make a relationship of difference work.
Finally somewhere toward the evening and well beyond siesta, we started our familiar dance of trying to come together again. We made love and it was sweet and then decided to take that jeep somewhere; anywhere even if it was only around the corner and back. We decided upon returning to El Nogolito, sans the boys; our hope was to have on special night before we left. The ride began with many possibilities of being more an adventure than we’d really wanted because I’d destroyed my glasses earlier in a fit of rage. There I was with no appreciable night vision; heading out into what was quickly approaching night.
We got to El Nogolito and found it closed. Undaunted we set out for Chico’s Paradise once again. We were on a mission, dammit, and fun was the ultimate goal. We cruised down the highway with the top off. The countryside was just as beautiful as before. Probably more so because we went at our on pace as opposed to the Kamikaze pace of the taxi on the previous trip. We had no real expectation that Chico’s Paradise would be open All of the brochures said they closed at sunset because they had no electricity. So we just chalked this drive off to being an adventure …
Luckily Chico’s was still open. We had another wonderful meal there and, once again, treated ourselves to the magnificently large and potent margaritas. It took us awhile but we were finally and once again able to look across the table into each others’ eyes and see the love reflected back. We hung out at Chico’s until the place was just about closed. The sun was starting to set and even through limited vision I was treated to one of the most beautiful sunsets. We sat there and said goodbye to Mexico on our last night while watching the sun descend into the water. Finally we headed on back home and this night we held each close as we went off to sleep.
The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. We came back to sit on the beach most of the next day fending off vendor. Like addicted gamblers at a casino, we were gonna buy something we just had to wait for the right item to pass us by. Our heads remained face downs in our books because we feared that any eye contact with the vendors was a sign for them to hound you to a purchase. We wanted our last few pesos to be made on our terms.
There were a few things we’d waited all day for. Finally the vendor with the desired item walked by. I beckoned for him and Pilar went into action negotiating. Before we left that beach we’d purchased two blankets, a lovely pair of silver earrings, and two beautiful bracelets. All picked with a loving purpose for someone back home. Unfortunately the bracelets did not make the trip home. At least not to my home. At some point either in the Mexican or US baggage area, the “bracelet fairy” decided to liberate these items.
After what seemed like hours of waiting for the plane to arrive we finally boarded, but as weekly charters go, we returned with the same people we’d arrived with. Which included … yup, you guessed it … the pack of boys …. They were just as obnoxious as they were when they’d arrived. Sharing stories about almost being arrested. They’d probably disrespected and disobeyed almost every Mexican law there was; and somehow they survived … but would we?
Right away everyone started rolling their eyes as the boys got one the plane shouting that “no one was gonna sleep on the plane tonight”. I could have just cried. Instead I put a bug in the Flight Attendant’s ears as I entered the plane. I said, “I feel sorry for you and your crew. These guys are assholes. They were noisy the entire trip up and they’ve already vowed to make the return trip hell”. The young Flight Attendant seemed horrified. True to their promise the boys began whooping and hollering as soon as they entered the plane … Fortunately the crew wasn’t having it!
The head Flight Attendant gathered together her entire posse and approached the pack … Now I don’t know what she said. But I’m here to tell you, she shut them down. They didn’t make a peep again. I wanted to jump up and give this crew a standing ovation. Instead I just turned to Pilar and smiled. After a very peaceful trip we eagerly touched down at SFO. We were ready to be home. We had gone on vacation, but felt like we’d been through battle. In some respects, we had. Now it was time for us to assess our wounds and get busy with the work of healing. We’d said this vacation would be a testament to whether we were any closer toward living together. Had we failed? I don’t know, but we certainly came back with the knowledge that we had much work to do.
Would I do it all over again? I don’t know. We are still growing and still going through it. Our love has been taken to the edge and still we’ve managed time and time again to get back to solid ground. I know the lessons aren’t over. No doubt there’s more pain to uncover. Just as there’s still much more joy waiting discovery. I only hope that we have it in us to work through it as we did so many times in Mexico. I know that I love Pilar and believe our relationship is worthwhile. I know that I want to continue to work when things don’t go as they should, and I also know that through all the mix of joy and pain I still feel the same excitement that I felt being with her el dia segunda en Mexico.
