And back Acapulco - North - 40 mile

We are safely back at the Acapulco Trailer Park in Pie de la Cuesta and we have decided that we will stay here until the tires arrive or hell freezes over..whichever comes first. Given the fact that Mexico is the variable, I am not betting. Our 40 mile traverse of the east side of Acapulco was fraught with danger, insane traffic and our first run-in with the police, not once but twice. We had studied the maps at the campground at El Coluso and had determined that instead of trying to make our way back to the airport and toll road we would continue through town and pick up the road to the east which would ultimately get us back to the camp site. No sooner did we leave, than our first mishap occured. The road through town was merging from 3 lanes to 2 to 1. It is quite hellish with again no-one leaving a spare inch between vehicles. Of course, all said vehicles have innumerable scratches, dents, cracked windows etc and ours is the only decent motor on the road. All of a sudden, a man is running along side the RV, banging on the side, my side, screaming at us to stop. We pull over at the first point which is a small market place area with open air stalls. I wind down my window and we are immediately engulfed by the shouts that we had hit his taxi (New York City cabbies could learn from his guy!) and that we needed to ..yep, you guessed it..pay! Tom and I both insist we do not understand him (no comprende) and ask that the police be called. By now we are surrounded by onlookers all of whom have something to contribute to the situation and Winston barking to show his displeasure at having his late morning nap disturbed. After many requests, the traffic police in the form of one very determined lady showed up. She took Tom's license and the cabbies and had Tom get out of the car. Sure enough, our rear awning post which does stick our a few inches had caught the cab's bumper. He wants blood. She mediates and asks what does he really want. 200 pesos is the reply. Tom has his wallet with only US dollars and offers $20.00 (about 245 pesos given the conversion rate). The cabbie sneers, what good is gringo money. The traffic police then takes the $20.00 from Tom and hands him a 200 peso note, which Tom in turn gives to the cab driver. Everyone is now smiling and happy. The cab driver got money, the traffic cop got a commission and more importantly, we are on our way again, with no ticket and only $20.00 out of pocket. Just as we are heaving a sigh of relief, getting our nerves calmed and finding the correct road, we hear the sound of a police siren and lights in our rear mirror. What now. We don't think we have done anything wrong. Again we pull over. This time, a municipal policeman. Why are we not wearing seatbelts? After driving here we know that seatbelts are supposedly the law and all Norte Americanos know that we are usually the only ones stopped for compliance because we have money and will pay the ticket. Again, we exhibit our dismal command of the Spanish language and with our few words of vocabulary and much pantomiming, we let him know that we only have lap belts not shoulder harnesses and we do in fact have them fastened, or not. As I am in full pantomime mode (Marcel Marceau has nothing on me), I realize Tom does not have his belt fastened. At the same time so does the policeman. He mentions ticket, we feign ignorance and Tom produces his Retired Fire Captain card with a flourish. He mentions ticket again, Tom and I only frown, shake our heads and try to look as though we have the combined IQ of 100, no comprende, Tom bombero! Finally he gives up on us, hands back Tom's licenses and once again we are on our way. It's 11 am and I need a cerveza or something. Please God, just let us get to the campground without any further incident. Fortunately, God has had his fun over the past 2 days and has obviously decided to give us a break. As we are on the road from Mex 200 to into the town of Pie de la Cuesta, we find an auto wash and broker a deal. They are opening a restaurant, grand opening tomorrow (Thursday) and in return for us attending, we will get our RV washed for 100 pesos (about $7.50). What a deal. We pull in to the park at about 1pm, settle the RV and open a cerveza. We smile at each other. What an ordeal. But we survived it and it builds our confidence for what surely lies ahead! We drag our loungers to the beach and watch the waves. What joy.