The pelican sleeping on the dock ignores the man with a fishing rod and a tempting tackle box full of bait. It is equally impervious to the roar of speedboats and the hum from the crowded beach.
When I get too close with my camera, the bird lazily opens one orange eye, stares at me and seems to say, “Slow down. Relax.” Then it closes its eye. I creep closer and get my shot.
In Puerto Vallarta, even the birds are relaxed.
At 10 a.m., I’ve been told to relax four times. The first was my fiance Mike, who told me not to fret when we missed the first taxi. The second was the ticket salesman, who accepted $22 each for the roundtrip tickets and said, “Slow down, senorita. You have plenty of time.”
The third was the 14-year-old waiting to tie the taxi to the pier. “It’s only 15 minutes late,” he says. “Relax.”