March 2006. My fiancé and I had been working like dogs in the North American winter. Icy, cold, no pretty snow. The skies were grey and I saw the sun for only three minutes each morning as it peaked over the horizon, yawning lazily as I was already running through the wind, across the parking lot, into work.
Time for a vacation.
But not only were the packages quite expensive this time of the year, they were only available in hot spot locations for partying college students: Cancun, Dominican, Florida. My fiancé, always the adventurer, said “Screw it, we’ll just fly down somewhere remote and find a room.” Me, the eternal pre-cautionist, responded with a “No way. I want to relax. We are not spending our precious vacation time wandering around looking for a place to stay!”
Fast-forward a week and we had just gotten off the bus from Mexico City at the Zihuatanejo bus terminal. It was only 9 am and already we felt like we were walking though a slow-bake oven. It was deliciously hot.
One of the best-kept secrets in vacation hotspots – and becoming increasingly popular for honeymoons – is the lovely fishing town of Zihuatanejo in the Guerrero Province of Mexico, a few hours north of Acapulco. Mexico has never been in want of sun-seekers eager to get away from their bleak northern winters, but certain areas have been over crowded and over priced as of late. Here, in Zihuatenajo - meaning the place of women as it was chosen by a P’orhépechan leader to protect the women of the village as they bathed safely in the bay – it was quiet, calm and protected from noise and crowds.
We were at the mouth of Playa La Ropa and we had nowhere to stay. I was torn between running into the crystal blue water, splashing and giggling my head off, or screaming at my fiancé for talking me out of reserving a pre-planned resort package. I saw the resorts on the way up the hill and they looked exactly like what I was looking for. I was staring at the back of his head, ready to reach down on the ground for a coconut to throw at it, when he turned to me and pointed to a gorgeous white house two steps from the beach. “This looks perfect. Let’s see if they have a room available!”
I look up. Casa Blanca.
The desk clerk in a red surf t-shirt and board shorts, no shoes, no English, told us somehow through our broken understanding of Spanish that there was a matrimonial room, with balcony and private washroom available for 50 US dollars a night. I looked down at my fiancé’s camping tent, which he insisted on lugging down “just in case” and say to Edgar: “We’ll take it.” Then, I eyed my fiancé. “But on one condition.”
Casa Blanca had quaintly decorated rooms in a simple converted home – white washed and clean, with a Spanish tiled roof and a fountain garden. Our room was small but clean and there was an open roman style shower. The balcony was huge and had a picturesque view of the rooftops of the houses next door, the palm trees and the crystal blue beach. We sat on the beautiful terrace for a moment and meditated over how much we loved each other and how lucky we were to have each other and our distinctly different personalities.
Then we donned our swim gear, slathered on the SPF 30 and headed down to the beach. Which was incredible. With white sand that stretched for miles. With palm trees to shade you. With lounge chairs lined up in front of breezy looking resort restaurants advertising the “best seafood and cervezas.” And very few people.
We were hungry. We took our pick of the many restaurants and choose the Sirena Gorda. (The Fat Mermaid). Delicious complementary home made nacho chips with guacamole and salsa, with dos cervezas. And the most scrumptious fish tacos I have ever tasted.
Two hours of sun-baking later, we decided to jump into the warm water and swim for a bit. The water was calm as Zihua is actually a bay and tide breaks are low. We floated around like mermaids (well, I did anyway) and looked up at the clear blue sky and the hillside of Zihua, spilling over with houses and boutique resorts. There were some very glamorous looking resorts, but as this town was relatively new on the jet set map, it was calm. Unspoiled. Private.
Four days later we were lounging poolside at one of those very boutique hotels. This was the one condition.
Hotel Villa Del Sol was right on the beach. I fell in love with the beautiful green landscape and the stone pond peaking through the palm trees. With intricately designed ponds and pools, decorated with traditional Mexican handicrafts, it felt luxurious to be lounging on the very same beach in Zihua but in a different atmosphere. The food at the resort’s two restaurants, La Cantina, and The Restaurant at Villa Del Sol, was available to everyone off the beach and it was delicious. We stayed in one of the garden rooms that did not face the beach but the privacy and the price was just what I had needed.
Moral of the story? You can have the best of both worlds and feed the best of both tastes in Zihua. And keep your relationship with distinctly different personalities - intact.
(Note: Today, Hotel Villa Del Sol has expanded and changed its name to The Tides at Zihuatanejo, however the rooms and the special packages are still quite reasonable, and well worth it! |
