Saturday, August 25, 2007 - 08:55 PM | 328 Reads

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Two weeks ago a storm came through with coal black clouds bubbling across its underbelly, 60 mph winds along with simultaneous thunder and lightning. When I went up to my roof deck to secure the patio furniture, I saw several bolts strike around the radio towers on the hill behind me, 200 meters away. As I watched with fascination as the lightning danced about the neighborhood, I realized that standing on my roof with metal furniture in my hand was not a real smart thing to be doing. The wind and rain picked up strength as I made for the safety of my concrete house. Last night the remnants of hurricane Dean passed by and unleashed a spattering of lightning and a couple of inches of rain. Living in Mazatlan has heightened my appreciation for residing in a concrete/brick structure; they are quiet as well as enduring.

Given the ferocity of the electrical storms that occur in Mazatlan, I am surprised the power never goes down. I am very impressed with the durability of the electrical grid in this city, my lights have not even flickered during the severest of storms. The reliability of the system is no doubt related to the number and type of safety components built into the grid. My guess would be that as the power company wired the town, things like lightning arrestors and surge breakers were too expensive and bothersome to install. Hence, the grid can take a direct hit and just distribute the catastrophic power spike to the closest 100 houses, a bulletproof system at work.

This is the season that many Mexican tourists choose to visit the Pearl of the Pacific and plush Mexican tour buses litter the Gold Zone. While having lunch in the Zone several weeks ago, I watched a middle age man and woman come across the beach and approach the ocean in such a way that indicated it was the first time either one had seen an ocean……ever. After standing on the dry sand for several minutes, they sat down and slowly began taking off their shoes. They stood, emptied their pockets onto a handkerchief spread between the two pairs of shoes and then walked into the surf. About 10 feet from the shoreline they both sat down and allowed the spent waves to wash them about with their frothy roils. These two people were not wearing shorts and tee shirts; they were fully clothed in the manner of a conservative, upper middle class Mexican couple. They splashed about in the shallow water with the reckless abandon of children, oblivious to all but the warm waters of the mighty Pacific lapping at their layers of clothing. Something told me that these folks would not be partaking in the parasail ride, for the ocean would most certainly be the apex of their Mazatlan experience.

The number of parasails in the air at any one point in time, is a reasonably accurate indicator of the general occupancy levels of the Golden Zone. If you can see five to six ‘chutes in the air at once, the resorts and hotels are well occupied. This time of year it is rare to see any more than two at a time, mostly it is a single tourist in the air, dangling from the aerial joy ride. The powerboat operators that launch and tow these modified parachutes probably have a similar attitude to safety devices as the utility company; simplicity is optimal. I haven’t been here long, but long enough to watch two episodes of the full separation of boat from parasail. Both occurrences were over the water and the terrified tourists found them selves headed for the drink at about 10 mph from about 200 feet up. I am sure they were grateful for the life vests they were wearing, but not for the nylon shroud that covered them immediately after impacting the water’s surface. I am not sure what happens when this occurs, whether the client gets a refund or incurs an extra charge for the high dose of adrenalin. Either way, it would be a moment worthy of National Lampoon’s Mazatlan Vacation.

There are a few basic requirements for surviving the sweltering summer weather; the first is to have at least one air-conditioned room in your home. Even the hard-core ex-pats that endure their waking hours in the ambient temperatures have an air-conditioned bedroom. Of the Mexicans that can afford it, most have chosen to have their nights pass in air-conditioned comfort. Even in my improvised neighborhood, there are several window units laboring away about 8 hours a day. The one across the “street” from me sounds like a thrashing machine in a pipe yard, but still continues to run on a daily basis. There are, of course a few gringos that are ensconced in “whole house” air-conditioned comfort and only venture out early in the morning or after the rain. If you are not accustomed to the tropical summer, being outside between the hours of ten and six requires either a beachfront cantina or actual emersion in the ocean.

Right now the water is 85 degrees and quite pleasant, with only a few jellyfish here and there and a moderate undertow. Every now and then, we will have several days of big surf and several times I have watched the waves rise up to 8 feet peak to trough. When the big southerly swells come in, the south point at Olas Altas can provide the perfect ride. There are a few local surfers with the skills to successfully tackle the big surf that comes roaring in over the rocky reef and many less skilled that will endanger life and limb attempting the ride. Martha’s oldest son is one of the most competent surfers in Mazatlan and can always be found where the big waves form.

So if you visit Mazatlan in the summer remember, the amount of time spent at beachfront cantinas or in the water is inversely proportional to the amount of air-conditioned space available.