“Hello,” I said into the phone, “Is this la Playa Elegante?”
“Hola,” a woman's voice replied, which I recognized as being hello in Spanish, but what she said after that was anyone's guess - I certainly couldn't understand it.
“This is Gale Ashcroft,” I tried again, hoping she understood more English than she spoke. “We made reservations at Playa Elegante for next week, and I'm checking to make sure you are still expecting us.”
I couldn't tell if she was, or not.
“I'm sorry,” I broke in when she took a breath, “but I can't understand what you are saying. Does anyone there speak English?”
“Englaise?” she repeated, then chattered on for a couple more seconds before the line went quiet. I waited, hoping she was going to get someone to talk to me, and after a few minutes I was rewarded with a man's voice coming over the phone. Heavily accented though it was, I could just understand what he was saying.
“This is Gale Ashcroft,” I explained slowly. I called last month and made reservations for next week, and I am checking to make sure everything is good.”
“Do you mean at Playa Elegante?” the man asked.
“Yes. Playa Elegante. We have reservations for Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday next week.”
“There is no Playa Elegante anymore,” the man told me.
“What? I talked to someone a month ago, and they took my reservations.”
“It's no here anymore,” the man insisted. “It's bulldozed away so can build condominiums. You call next year to rent.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was Saturday afternoon. Moe and the girls and I were planning to drive down to Rocky Point on Monday morning for a few days vacation during the girl's fall break. Then we planned to spend the rest of the week moving to Snowflake.
“Moe, what are we going to do?” I wailed after hanging up the phone. “They say la Playa Elegante has been bulldozed away to build condo's.”
“Call the Hales,” Moe suggested. “They went to Rocky Point a few weeks ago. They'll know what's going on.”
Thank goodness, I was able to get our friends on the phone, and after explaining our dilemma Nola was able to help.
“We always stay at Playa Bonita,” she told me. “It's on the west side of the point, on Sandy Beach, and very nice.”
I called the number Nola gave me and was able to make last minute reservations at the new resort, so we packed and left for Rocky Point early Monday morning. I was really looking forward to this vacation. I was worn out from packing, cleaning, and taking one load of stuff up to Snowflake the previous Saturday.
Of course, nothing ever goes the way you plan it. Before making the four hour drive across the hot, desolate desert, Moe decided to stop at his dad's house and change the tires on our car. It took longer than he thought, so it was after ten before we began our trip. Then Krissi began feeling sick.
“Honey,” do you want to go home?” I asked her anxiously after studying her flushed face.
“No!”
“Well, let's stop at a drug store and see if we can get something to make you feel better.”
We found a pharmacy, parked the car, but had to detour to a garbage can out front so Krissi could throw up before we went inside. I got her some medicine, and felt like a terrible mother for taking her when she was so sick, but she wouldn't hear about us turning around. Hopefully throwing up was all she needed, and she'd feel better soon. Wrong.
The medicine did help settle her stomach on the ride down to Mexico, but by 4:00, when we pulled into Rocky Point, she was looking peaked and miserable again. We bought some ginger-ale at a little market in town, then drove around until we found Playa Bonita. It was a nice enough place, but not as nice as La Playa Elegante had been back in the old days.
It was very warm, especially for the middle of October. We set up the tent and swam and looked for sea shells until dark. I guess I'd had too many things on my mind when we got ready, because I forgot to bring lights, so we turned in to bed as soon as it got dark. A few hours later I heard Krissi moving around in her sleeping bag.
“Are you OK, sweetheart?” I whispered.
“I'm feeling sick again,” she whimpered back through the dark.
“OK. Come with me and we'll walk down to the restrooms,” I told her, fumbling around in the tent for my flip flops.
It wasn't a very dark night, the moon was bright and the park had a few lights placed strategically around the camp-spots. We made it to the bathroom without trouble, and Krissi felt better after fifteen or so minutes, so we walked back to our tent. A couple of hours later she woke up again, and we walked back to the bathroom. That went on all night, so we didn't get much sleep, but by morning she was feeling much better.
Tuesday I made breakfast, then we drove into town to visit the little shops strung along the bay. The girls had a ball buying stuff and looking at everything. I had fun, too. I loved the bright colors and sunshiny feel of Mexican pottery and ceramics. Years earlier my kids bought me a peacock-blue plaster-of-paris parakeet in Rocky Point. I'd hung it over my tiny tropical garden beside the front door of our house in Gilbert. I looked and looked until I found a similar parakeet, this time bright green and orange and yellow, to hang beside my other bird on our back porch in Snowflake. I knew those bright colors would be charming all year round, even in the middle of the cold, snowy winter I was looking forward to experiencing for the first time in my life.
That afternoon we swam in the ocean, then Moe and the girls took advantage of the resort's jacuzzi while I read a book. What a lovely day!
Wednesday we swam in the morning and looked for shells, then packed up to go home. This trip had certainly been different from our other stays in Rocky Point. First of all, no one else from our family had come with us, so it was a little lonely. One of the best parts of past trips had been playing with the family. Second, the resort we stayed at, although nice, was not nearly as charming as la Playa Elegante. Playa Bonita was pretty stark and utilitarian. The beach, while lovely and big, was kind of boring. It was called Sandy Beach, after all, and that's exactly what it was. Sandy and smooth, even when the tide was out. On the east side of the point, where we used to stay, the sandy beach was only a twenty or thirty yards wide, running down into rocky outcroppings and tide pools which we loved to explore when the tide was out. Last, Rocky Point itself had become modernized. On both sides of our resort huge, multilevel skyscraper condominiums grew up out of the beach, and there were tourists everywhere. Gone were the days of quiet nights spent stargazing and listening to lapping waves on the beach. Rocky Point had become a party city.
We drove back to Arizona that afternoon with a sense of loss and disappointment. Time stands still for no one, I guess, and progress is good, but in my heart I knew I would never go back to Rocky Point. Already, there were reports of dangerous drug gangs and lawlessness reaching into that part of Mexico, and it wasn't long before safety became an issue. But most of all, the carefree life and simple pleasures we had loved were gone, replaced by high fashion, big dollar entertainment and accommodations. So I said goodbye to Rocky Point, and turned my face eastward, towards the White Mountains of Arizona, and our new home in Snowflake.
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