Up and Coming Tecomán?
(Originally posted February 2017)
The long weekend is a must for getting out of the busy city: dust, traffic, construction and general responsibilities in exchange for relaxing, reading and the sea breeze.
In lieu of the typical beaches of Vallarta or Sayulita, we went to Tecomán, Colima. Our options were limited, probably due to the last minute decision to skip town (“last minute” being relative here). Most everywhere was already booked. We stumbled on a “too good to be true” Air BnB post in Tecomán. While the general reaction to the location included “What? Where?” and “Really? There?” we found it exactly what we were looking for, which was really nothing at all. For a potentially sketchy weekend, we scored.
Coming from the frozen tundra, I’ll never say that Guadalajara is far from the beach. But the ride to Tecomán was much easier: more lanes, fewer curves and a shorter distance. Our minimal delays came from the heavily armed military men slowly waving through vehicles. Potentially sketchy, but they mostly pass the beach goers right by.
The beach sits on a small road running parallel to the coast and a small town about ten kilometers inland. Tourism hasn’t taken over and the main road basically shuts down when the surfers can no longer see the waves.
Given that our rental was $20 a night, it could have been awful. No, not per person, twenty for the entire beach house. Instead, it was ideal. We had the whole place to ourselves: balcony looking over the ocean, patio with jalapa, pool, bar and deck. And, a hunky surfer host, Carlos, in his permanent beachwear, bare feet and sun kissed, sandy blonde hair.
Our first night, he led us into town (obviously still barefoot) to his regular taco place. Taco dinner for four for less than five bucks, along with some plastic cups for the tequila we threw down at the table. Delicious.
At night we slept with the windows open, listening with the rhythmic crashing of the monstrous waves. Even by day, the beach was mostly empty; a few expert surfers in the water and a couple of families strolling the sand. Our days were filled with doing not much at all. We got lost in our books, basked in the sun and the shade, dipped in the pool and dozed on and off. The beach strip had a couple of massive seafood restaurants. Rows and rows of tables in the sand, mostly empty even over the three-day holiday weekend.
In the evenings, we walked across the street to the small dining spot hosted by Abuelita Rosa and family. Serving from her open-air kitchen, we had the best sopes and quesadillas around, surrounded by her grandchildren passing out Coca Cola or rocking in the hammock.
Around the house we enjoyed an impromptu pool party with our host, Carlos, and his friends and games of Cards Against Humanity and Jenga. Our luck continued when we found an expert and affordable masseuse that made house calls. Early the last afternoon, we cleaned up a few dishes, tossed together the graveyard of glass bottles, grabbed some lunch and returned to Guadalajara. We encountered a bit of traffic on the return but nothing compared to the delays of puente weekends in the past.
The weekend was relaxing and the company was ideal. We played, ate and laughed until our bellies ached. We sang our ridiculous song about the potentially sketchy weekend until we teared up with laughter. Now I’m feeling rested, refreshed and filled with sunshine, however, I’m not quite ready to go back to the real world.
