Mazatlán. Our cousins pronounce this with all three "a's" very long, but in my mind it has a simpler sound, rather like a catalogue we have in the UK. We're told about the very helpful blue line to follow from the port, and before we've crossed the first road are amazed by the ever helpful police on every street corner, joking, doing magic tricks or just waving at random tourists. I have an alternate hypothesis for this of which more later.
Once in the town centre we quickly find a beautiful renovated theatre well worth the 95 cents to visit. It was derelict for over thirty years, time enough for a large tree to grow in centre stalls whilst the surrounding balconies slowly fell in. Now it's fully restored and showing all the evidence necessary to suggest Nutcracker just got out.
We walk further to the first pretty square to be met by hoards of volunteer ex-pats who, it would seem, take turns to man their adopted city for the benefit of the cruise industry in return for lunch aboard. A quick turn around the cathedral and the awfully busy market and we head to the coast to commence our planned walk around the bay.
We notice a touting taxi driver (there were many but one was particularly persistent) who after at least five rejections said OK, walk, I will pray for you! Exccentric sales pitch or something else, we wondered. Walking around the hill in the city centre we see a diver who apparently dives for tips, from a hight into about 8 feet of water, very daring. His touts were in full force so we moved on without watching the spectacle. As we walked progressively round the bay and away from the tourist area we notice that all the local shops, houses and hotels have bars, gates and as much security as would be found in Pretoria or Jo'burg. Yet it seems clear to us this is a legacy, not a sign of the times. Police are everywhere, hugely conspicuous - a Western force could only dream of the cost of this exercise. We suspect the local government subscribes to the Mayor Giuliani school of law-enforcement and it clearly works. Mazatlán would seem to be in recovery.
Our walk around the bay goes past the local fisherman, selling their catch directly on the steps, and then past mile after mile of beach bars, cabanas and restaurants, with hotels across the road, before we reach a main intersection where a gaggle of night-clubs and regular shops mark the start of the resort area. We find a lovely wine-bar and take lunch overlooking the area. Having survived a mountain of nachos, we conclude the greatest single danger to our health is not crime, but may well be the pavements, which vary in height between every property, that's if they haven't crumbled away, or fallen into a pot-hole.
Our total walk is over twelve miles so we've earned an ice-cream!
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