Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz is the anti-Mazatlán. It's a small town on the Pacific Coast south of San Blas. There are no high rises and few tourist hotels and RV parks. The industrial-scale agriculture we saw north and south of Mazatlán has given way to towns and villages surrounded by orchards and small farms growing fruits and vegetables. “The local people are hard-working citizens, fishermen, farmers, blue-collar workers such as waiters or waitresses, or small business owner” (link).

Street near Playa La Manzanilla

Banana tree in a grove near Playa La Manzanilla

The coast is becoming more tropical as we travel south. North of here, as close as San Blas, the coast is dominated by estuaries and mangroves. Here the hills are steep, covered with forest and end near the ocean. The streams are short and the water is clean.

Coast of Santa Cruz looking north to Playa La Manzanilla

The stream beside Casa Simpático supplies water to the house and to several houses nearby. People put a PVC pipe in the stream and pump water to their house. Vegetation in the yards looks like the houseplants we grew indoors in northern Colorado – small palms with fine leaves, spiny euphorbs with white and pale orange flowers, shade-tolerant vines and philodendrons.

Casa Simpático

Andy Stock, the owner of Casa Simpático (link), has a captain’s license and a water taxi service. He’s warm, open, with a ruddy complexion and a ready smile. He explained that the two dogs that greeted us came with the house, and that Juan Carlos, his caretaker, feeds them when he's in the U.S. Andy brought us homemade ceviche and dried papaya from his Mexican friends, and his favorite spice from the local tienda. He went swimming in the ocean every morning – he’s training for a swim around Alcatraz in San Francisco Bay.

Stream next to Casa Simpático

Santa Cruz is a Mexican community; the gringo population is small. If you live here, you shop like the locals going from store to store to store to find what you need – the mini-super for dry goods; the carnicería for beef; the municipal market in San Blas or road stands for vegetables; the panadería for bread and pastries; the fishermen’s cooperative for seafood. 

Rande buying pasteries from a panadería (bakery) at Matanchen

You can also buy what you need from trucks driving through neighborhoods selling fresh fruits and vegetables; fish and shellfish; brooms, mops and baskets; potable water. You hear them at least a block before they arrive – they announce their products and their prices from loudspeakers mounted outside. The nearest big box stores are in Tepic about 90 minutes by car or bus.

Fruit stand on the road to Tepic

From Casa Simpático we could follow a path south along the shore to the fishermen’s cooperative in Miramar. The small, semi-protected bay is home to the pangas of commercial fishermen. They use small-mesh gillnets and fish close to shore; we often saw them pulling their nets early in the morning. Mid-morning after most of the boats had landed their fish was the best time to buy seafood.

Miramar

Fishermen's Cooperativa at Miramar

We bought fresh huachinango (Pacific red snapper, Lutjanus peru) from a woman selling fish from her house across the street from the cooperative. She asked Rande how she planned to cook the fish (pan fried whole in a little oil with garlic and lemon pepper) and cleaned them accordingly (gutted, gilled and scaled with diagonal cuts in the meat to the vertebrae).

Cleaning huachinango

The cooperative is home to an oyster fishery. Oysters (ostiones) are harvested from rocks in shallow water by breath-hold divers and stored in nets hanging from tire inner tubes they tow behind them. I met Louis Gonzales, former president of the oyster cooperative for five years. He's in his  late 40s and spent many years in California working in restaurants starting as a dishwasher and working his way up to sous-chef. He saved his money and owns a house and land and lives with his family in Santa Cruz. Now he only dives for oysters and lobster.

Oyster divers landing their catch at the co-op in Miramar

Louis explained the co-op system. There are 60 fishermen with permits for oysters, lobster and fish. The oystermen can only dive three days a week (Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday) and are allowed to take 20 kg (44 lb) of oysters a day (harvest weights are recorded). Depths are rarely more than 3 m (10 ft), but the visibility is often so poor that they find the oysters by feel. 

Cleaning oysters at the co-op

There are six groups of divers in the oyster fishery, which is regulated by the government. Louis introduced me to the oldest diver in the co-op, who is 63 and has been diving for oysters for 35 years. Louis said oyster quality is checked and the waters are sampled for pollution. The oystermen patrol their area and report violators to the local police. A dozen fresh oysters sell for $8-9 USD.

The oldest oyster diver (63 yrs) in the co-op

Mexicans love the playas (beaches) and come in large numbers on the weekends and even larger numbers at Christmas and Semana Santa (the week before Easter). They park their vehicles under the ramadas covered with palm fronds on the beach. Vendors patrol these areas selling everything from ice cream and fruit to beach toys. Local restaurants and food vendors set up plastic tables and chairs under the ramadas and sell cold beer and food.

Ramadas at Playa Los Cocos south of San Blas

Andy left for San Francisco the day before we left for Bucerias. I was sorry we were leaving Santa Cruz. We were only there for two weeks, but I was sad that our time was ending. And I was sad for Andy's two dogs – he won’t be back until October.

Sunset at Miramar

I went out for a walk an hour before sunset and took the camera. I walked familiar roads and paths near Casa Simpático. I needed to see the place differently, to take different images. To look closely at the details.

Stairs near Miramar

I think my feelings about leaving came from the connections we made while we were in Santa Cruz. I didn’t feel this way when we left Mazatlán or San Carlos, but I felt a sense of loss when we left Los Barriles. We lived there for three months, which was long enough to experience what life would be like living in that community.

Wall with tiles in Santa Cruz

There aren’t a lot of gringos in Santa Cruz and Aticama. Andy introduced us to several at the Sunday morning market in Aticama; we met others on our own. Several of the gringos we met are deeply involved with the local communities.

Sunday morning market at the Aticama Community Center

• Rosa sends out a weekly email with news of local activities and events, items for sale ranging from chile rellenos to houses on the beach, and reminders, like daylight savings time in Mexico begins April 6. She also hosts Spanish classes for two hours on Tuesday mornings.
• Ken, a retired engineer from California, organizes financial support to send local high school graduates to college in Tepic – his first student graduates this year. He’s interviewing 6-7 new prospects. The student's families have to help with money for food and transportation, but Ken's loosely-organized group provides a place to live and helps with tuition.
• Bill is involved with the Huichol and Cora indigenous villages in the mountains east of San Blas. He sells their weavings at the Sunday market in Aticama and raises funds for the villages through non-profit organizations back in the US. He has beautiful photographs of the children in traditional dress and said it took a long time to gain their trust so he could take their pictures.
• Daniel has been in this area over 30 years and started Capulin Coffee (link) organizing coffee growers in the mountains around Tecuitata. The beans are picked by hand, sun dried, roasted and sold through Capulin. He pays the local growers twice what commercial coffee companies offer them. We met him at the Sunday market in Aticama and again at the Friday market in Sayulita, north of Puerto Vallarta.

Daniel from Capulin Coffee at the Aticama market

Coffee trees cover the hills around Tecuitata

These people have dedicated their lives to the local communities. They got involved and found something meaningful. Ken said “I never thought I’d be doing this in retirement.” According to David, “there’s a village that depends on me. I have their respect. This would not have happened in the U.S.” 

What we learned in Santa Cruz is that as we look for a place to live in retirement, we should also be looking for something meaningful to do.