No trip to Mexico would be complete without the inevitable encounter with the dark side of the Mexican world of crime. Boy, I exaggerate! And, as is often the case, my encounter was completely due to my own inattentiveness. After a week in Yelapa with no banks, ATMs, and only two establishments accepting credit cards, the first order of business in Puerto Vallarta was to find an ATM and replenish our dwindling cash. I did so, got 1000 pesos, got my receipt, and walked out of the booth. Sara had gone to a second machine—we were having a sort of contest to see who could get the smaller service charges. I don’t think two minutes had passed when I realized that I had left my card in the machine. I ran back but it was gone. Another American said that he saw somebody grab it and run off—the same thing had happened to him earlier in the day. I was panicked about what to do since my cell was inoperative in Mexico. A lady overhearing the whole thing told me that a nearby internet cafe had a phone for 2 pesos/minute so I was able to call the bank and (after 20 minutes on hold) cancel the card. The bank guy told me to not drink the water.
This is the last post, so this blog is finished.
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