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We arrived in Acapulco on Sunday afternoon. After being quickly processed through Mexican immigration and customs, we were met by the representative from our travel company and bundled into a Chevy Suburban for the trip to our hotel. There were three other couples in the SUV with us, and our hotel was the furthest from the airport, so it took us almost an hour to reach our destination.
I quickly decided that I was glad we hadn't opted for a rental car. The roads in and around Acapulco are not well maintained, with pavement riddled with potholes both small and large. In places, the pavement has disappeared from the entire width of one or more lanes, causing traffic to swerve around the resulting rough patch. The side streets also have monstrous speed humps, further disrupting the traffic flow. Combine these questionable road conditions with the rather flexible adherence to what I would call normal traffic rules. It is apparently perfectly acceptable to use additional lanes beyond what is striped on the pavement, and turns can be made from any lane, regardless of what the traffic in the intervening lanes might be doing. Use of the car horn is ubiquitous, and the drivers seem to have a secret code that allows them to communicate with each other by a series of beeps.
A quick glance at the street made me feel like I was suddenly trapped in a "Herbie, the Love Bug" movie. The old-style Volkswagen Beetle remained in production in Mexico until 2003, and they are by far the most common vehicle on the streets of Acapulco. Many of these are taxis, white with blue fenders, and they whip up and down the main street by the beach with abandon, packed with more people on board than would appear possible or prudent. The buses looked like the school buses back home, except they weren't the requisite yellow color. Instead they were airbrushed with artwork in vibrant colors, accented with neon lights around the windows and in the grill. The windows were open to provide some measure of relief from the heat and humidity, and during rush hour they were so packed that riders stood in the open doorway, casually hanging onto the handle as the bus rumbled through the traffic.
Our hotel, the Ritz Acapulco, was at the old city end of the two mile long string of high rise beach front hotels that have sprung up in the last thirty years or so. Our check-in was fast and efficient, and we went up to our room on the fourth floor. We had an ocean view, and the outside wall of our room was entirely glass, looking out across the bay. The king-size bed was arranged looking out at this stunning view. Our package was all inclusive, with unlimited food and bar service, so we grabbed margaritas from the bar and food from the snack bar before heading out to explore the city.
As we walked along the Costera, the main road along the beach, we were regularly accosted by representatives trying to sell time-share properties and enticed by the street vendors selling souvenirs of every imaginable type. If we showed the remotest bit of interest in anything they were selling, they would try to initiate a price negotiation, either asking what we would pay, or else proposing a price. When we continued on our way, the price would drop quickly, often by fifty percent or more. Empty taxis would slow as they past us, the driver giving us a questioning glance, hoping we might want a ride. At meal times, the restaurants would have an employee out on the sidewalk with copies of the menu, trying to entice customers into their establishment for a bite to eat.
All of this combined to provide a canvas of sight, sound and smell that was both stimulating and a bit overwhelming. Eventually, we returned to our hotel for dinner and some more margaritas, before calling it a night. We returned to our room and sat on the balcony for a while, watching the lights of the city around the bay. Eventually, the fatigue of a long day of travel and exploration caught up with us and we came back inside and crashed for the night.
I quickly decided that I was glad we hadn't opted for a rental car. The roads in and around Acapulco are not well maintained, with pavement riddled with potholes both small and large. In places, the pavement has disappeared from the entire width of one or more lanes, causing traffic to swerve around the resulting rough patch. The side streets also have monstrous speed humps, further disrupting the traffic flow. Combine these questionable road conditions with the rather flexible adherence to what I would call normal traffic rules. It is apparently perfectly acceptable to use additional lanes beyond what is striped on the pavement, and turns can be made from any lane, regardless of what the traffic in the intervening lanes might be doing. Use of the car horn is ubiquitous, and the drivers seem to have a secret code that allows them to communicate with each other by a series of beeps.
A quick glance at the street made me feel like I was suddenly trapped in a "Herbie, the Love Bug" movie. The old-style Volkswagen Beetle remained in production in Mexico until 2003, and they are by far the most common vehicle on the streets of Acapulco. Many of these are taxis, white with blue fenders, and they whip up and down the main street by the beach with abandon, packed with more people on board than would appear possible or prudent. The buses looked like the school buses back home, except they weren't the requisite yellow color. Instead they were airbrushed with artwork in vibrant colors, accented with neon lights around the windows and in the grill. The windows were open to provide some measure of relief from the heat and humidity, and during rush hour they were so packed that riders stood in the open doorway, casually hanging onto the handle as the bus rumbled through the traffic.
Our hotel, the Ritz Acapulco, was at the old city end of the two mile long string of high rise beach front hotels that have sprung up in the last thirty years or so. Our check-in was fast and efficient, and we went up to our room on the fourth floor. We had an ocean view, and the outside wall of our room was entirely glass, looking out across the bay. The king-size bed was arranged looking out at this stunning view. Our package was all inclusive, with unlimited food and bar service, so we grabbed margaritas from the bar and food from the snack bar before heading out to explore the city.
As we walked along the Costera, the main road along the beach, we were regularly accosted by representatives trying to sell time-share properties and enticed by the street vendors selling souvenirs of every imaginable type. If we showed the remotest bit of interest in anything they were selling, they would try to initiate a price negotiation, either asking what we would pay, or else proposing a price. When we continued on our way, the price would drop quickly, often by fifty percent or more. Empty taxis would slow as they past us, the driver giving us a questioning glance, hoping we might want a ride. At meal times, the restaurants would have an employee out on the sidewalk with copies of the menu, trying to entice customers into their establishment for a bite to eat.
All of this combined to provide a canvas of sight, sound and smell that was both stimulating and a bit overwhelming. Eventually, we returned to our hotel for dinner and some more margaritas, before calling it a night. We returned to our room and sat on the balcony for a while, watching the lights of the city around the bay. Eventually, the fatigue of a long day of travel and exploration caught up with us and we came back inside and crashed for the night.
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Date: 2006-10-02 08:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-02 08:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-02 08:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-03 06:06 pm (UTC)"Yes, it was wonderful to hear you enjoyed Trafalgar Square so much you swam around the fountains, but where are the pictures?"