Where the sun hides in winter

Started the New Year in good form, just returned home from a week in Puerto Vallarta. Aside from the hoards of Large Midwestern Americans who think they're Cortez and have claimed Mexico for themselves, it was a tan and fabulous adventure with mi amore. Temps in the 80s, sunny skies, warm water, pelicans, humpbacks, beachcoming, surfing, mtb-ing, drinking, eating, sleeping, repeat. We fled the tourist hell of PVR and tried to find the smaller, slower essence of true Mexico. We were somewhat successful and my sweet natured tour guide did a smashing job of connecting with the locals and receiving the most rewarding gesture of any trip abroad - laughter and smiles united among the tongues of two languages. Our mountain bike trip brought us to a remote mountain spring where we dipped into the cold, refreshing pools, and soared above the hawks as we climbed above the valleys and then bombed down the hills in a fraction of the time that it took us to slowly inch our way up the dry, dusty roads. We surfed with bronze gods and goddesses who call these warm water shores their home and even got a few nods of acknowledgement and kudos. We chowed on quesadillas and tacos made from scratch in front of our eyes by two women at their stand on a cobblestoned street on the edge of where other tourists dare to wander. We took the local bus and relied on our feet and scattered words of Espanol. Starting out the New Year among new faces and sunsets, remembering what a splendid world it is outside your narrow walls and what it means to stretch out and touch what lies beyond.