This morning I'm on an important mission. It's Christmas (or a “Happy Holiday” if you're waging a war on Christmas
) and presumably everything is closed an yet... I must have my coffee. Time for an exploratory ride in the hopes of finding something open. I cruised the streets of Mazatlan, first checking out the Starbucks (closed) then moving on to whatever I could find. Eventually I ran into an open Oxxo and got a cup of plain old (delicious) coffee. It was very satisfying. With that out of the way, it's off to search for the elusive hostel: Funky Monkey.
The Mazatlan strip.
Since I memorized the address I had no trouble finding it this time around. It was right where it was supposed to be, but with no sign whatsoever that it was in fact a hostel and not just someones house. There was a small paper note on the gate which directed me to call a number since the doorbell was broken. Not having a phone, I opted to bang on the gate with a brick until someone answered. That someone was a hung over young lady wearing only panties. Good start.
Funky Monkey. (Yes, that's my helmet on the handlebars. Don't be a hater
An aside: Apparently in Mexico people celebrate Christmas by having dinner at midnight on the eve, then drinking all night. The next morning NOTHING is open (as can be expected on Christmas day) but by afternoon almost everything is open again.
The young lady sent out a gent who let me in and showed me around. The place is really nice (it's new, only open three months) and has a pool. All for about $10 a night. I immediately decided I was moving there asap. I made what little arrangements were required and went back to my hotel to pack and move. After moving into the new place it was time to meet up with Phil and Jayne and their swanky resort hotel (they were staying with friends). We ended up hanging out at the resort under an umbrella having several conversations with old ladies who kept coming by to say hello. Very interesting way to spend Christmas.
Towards evening we decided to go back to my hostel as the siblings had nowhere to stay for the night. It's nice to see a gang (pack, flock, herd, litter, drove, pride, troop, murder?) of bikes outside and to have some good company after a few days of being solitary. A day of fellowship and beers. Who can ask for more on Christmas?
Stock photo, not mine.
Random Fact: Pacifico beer was originally brewed by Germans here in Mazatlan in 1900.