THE BELLS OF SAN BLAS

It is winter in Mt. Shasta. The temperatures hover around 30 degrees in the daytime. The mountain is lovely with its coat of snow. But somehow we long to take a break and take a peak at Mexico after a thirty- year recess. We immediately think of San Blas. Our memories are of a sleepy little fishing village on the Pacific coast. My mother and her Mexican husband built a small hotel called Casa Morales with lovely views. We visited there often with our children to spend the Christmas holidays.

So we packed our bags, swim suits and shorts, and headed to the airport. Before we knew it we arrived in Puerto Vallarta. High-rise hotels and miles of beach keep this once sleepy village steaming in tourism.

The next day we head for the bus station. We find luxury buses everywhere, but our bus, the only one headed for San Blas that day, looks like a poor cousin. We climb on and are off through the mountains and along the coast for a three-hour drive. We stop everywhere and in the middle of nowhere for people to hitch a ride. At last we arrive at the tiny bus station. We grab our bags and head for the plaza, the center of activity in this small village. The church bells are softly ringing. It does look familiar. Soon we find ourselves at the Hotel Garza Canela, right across the street from the old Casa Morales. The memories come back. When the people of the village find out that I am the daughter of La Senora Morales, they tell me how they remember her with much affection. They tell me that without her they would not have had a job. Without her they couldn’t have put their kids through school. The owners of Garza Canela write her a letter saying that she is the pioneer of the hotel business in San Blas and they wouldn’t be as successful as they are without her. Never in my wildest dreams did I know that she was so revered in that tiny village. They tell me that even American and Canadian tourists quit coming to San Blas when she left. We left with sadness in our hearts. The sleepy San Blas still has the same friendly people who opened their hearts to us and the bells of San Blas still ring with a welcoming tone.

She is now ninety-eight. I am so glad that I have had the chance to bring back letters and pictures and tell her how much the people of San Blas loved her, before it is too late.