the adventures of dos tortas

To catch up with this story, you might want to read parts 1-4.

When the van pulled into a parking lot with the beach and Pacific Ocean in front of us, we naturally exited to gaze at the water and stretch our legs after a long drive. My companions walked off and returned with a random guy they encountered who offered to help them buy marijuana. It’s amazing what you can communicate with almost no Spanish skills. I’ve watched enough cop shows to know how the woman gets mindlessly swept along when a crime is committed. It’s so easy to judge but that probably would have been me in 1973.

Following Random Guy’s directions we climbed back into the van and drove into the hills above Acapulco. The only thing there were shacks and poverty, no high rise hotels or ocean view.

The first attempt to buy drugs was unsuccessful and we headed back out and up the highway we had originally arrived on. The road was lined with jungle and nothing else, or so it seemed. Random guy directed us to make a U-turn and park on the side of the highway. This time I was not staying behind, no way. Underneath the foliage was a path, invisible to passers by, including us.

We walked single file along the trail to a field and grass hut. Our “friend”translated and the three guys went inside the shack to dicker on a price for our purchase. I sat on a rickety bench and looked around and waited. I noticed at my feet what looked like small marijuana plants. OMG, reality set in. The field around us was ready to be planted and home to quite a large growing operation.

The guys reappeared having struck a deal to purchase a kilo of pot. They seemed pleased with themselves and eager to be out of there. We did not find out until later that the growers pulled a switcheroo as old as time. As soon as the two took their eyes off the prize, the sellers substituted the agreed upon purchase for a far inferior grass, mostly sticks and seeds. But in a hurry to be on our way, we didn’t discover it until many miles down the road.

We continued on our way towards our final destination, dropping our guide off on the side of the road. What I didn’t know at the time was that the upcoming week would be one of the most amazing and memorable of my life. Without AirBnB or GPS or anything more than my high school Spanish, we found people who welcomed us with open arms and fed three strangers who arrived out of nowhere on their “doorstep” for a week. I even have photos to prove it!

DOS TORTAS

Tags: Acapulco, expat living in Mexico, retire mexico