Twisted Palms to Andele

 Miercoles was always planned to be a down day to recover from too many steps.  I had all the fixins for Huevo Rancheros so that set us up for what was to be a very relaxing break from the onslaught of too many things to do.  Siesta in the hammock was perfect while I figured out how to get the hot tub Goldilocks setting.  Thinking that we were getting a bit low on pesos, I ventured over to the Marina in search of the Scotia Bank I was sure I had seen, couldn’t find it as it was a bit further along at the super mercado.  Would have to make do with the cash on hand as time was running out.  We had a plan to meet Deb and Ron (K’s friends from Penticton) for drinks and dinner in Old Town, so when they suggested a local favourite cocktail bar called The Twisted Palm, we figured to be set.  It all worked out in the end, but the start was a bit sketchy.  While I should have mapped out the place prior to departing WiFi coverage, I didn’t based on the very effective cab service we had enjoyed so far.  Inevitably our driver knew not one word of English, I couldn’t understand the numbers he was saying (at first) and he had never heard of the Twisted Palm.  All that became apparent after we were in the cab.  Also, in my own inimitable way, I had my cellular data service turned off and couldn’t get it back on right away (too many levels).  So we were hurtling down the freeway with no communication and me more than a bit irritated with myself for allowing us to get in this predicament.  Eventually got my phone working and acquired an address from Ron on Ave. Ignacio de Vallarta, which the cabby got us kinda close to, and we found Ron awaiting our arrival at the curb.  After a couple of very large margaritas, we hopped in yet another cab for the short ride to the Melecon for dinner at La Dolce Vita.  Reservation was lost, but not to worry, they got us a great table looking out over the patio towards the beach.  

Dinner was complimented with some fine Malbec, just  to be sure blood alcohol level didn’t dip too low.  After dinner, nothing would do but to check out the very popular (with Gringos) Andales bar for some disco favourites, and much revelry.  We were getting a bit full of cerveca, so when the Blue Kamikaze came around (complete with purple nurples for everyone), we had to say yes.  No one rode the burro, but Deb was keen to show Karen the railing leading upstairs.  Quite the place to be sure.  I paid the tab (very nearly left a credit card on the floor) and we grabbed one of the ubiquitous cabs and bid our hosts a hearty buenos noches.