It was V’s birthday and to celebrate we were heading up to a small mountain town called San Sebastian del Oeste. The town was founded in the 1600’s and was at one time the capital of the state of Jalisco with a booming population and wealth to match from it’s numerous gold, silver and lead mines. As the mines dried up the town dwindled to it’s present population of 600, it’s hard to access mountain road making it even more discouraging to visitors. In the last few years the government has improved the roads and so San Sebastian del Oeste is once again rising in popularity with people drawn by the opportunity to spend a few days in an ‘authentic’ Mexican pueblo. I was extremely excited about the trip as I am a sucker for anything labeled ‘authentic’ and was still reeling in shock after discovering that with a 30% ex-pat population, Puerto Vallarta resembled more a North American retiree outpost than a thriving Mexican community.
The drive to San Sebastian is only about two hours north-east from Puerto Vallarta - up a winding one lane highway into the mountains, the vegetation changing slowly as you climb in altitude. We watched the jungle covered hills change to crisp pine forests and reveled in leaving the humidity behind, looking forward to cool nights with hot chocolates and thick sweaters. In the hot and humid Puerto Vallarta summer we had forgotten what it was like to feel cold.
The first sign of town is a subtle widening of the road, changing the feeling from a country back lane to a European boulevard, a sensation that is only increased with the addition of art nouveau metal benches placed at intervals along the side of the road. Large trees extend their boughs high into the air and create a natural arch overhead to complete the stately welcome. After a brief pit stop at a crumbling hacienda selling organic coffee we headed into the center of town, a small square surrounded by low rustic buildings with warm terracotta tiled roofs and white washed walls - the bottom third of which were painted a earthy red. Many towns in Mexico are painted in this uniform way, and in San Sebastian it created a feeling of being lost in time and place, landing you in a small mountain town in Italy or Austria in the 1600’s.
We drove through the square and after a few false turns found ourselves at our hotel – a slightly run down hacienda, the decades of quiet neglect in no way diminishing from its charm. Our rooms were outfitted with only the bare essentials - warm blankets on a large firm bed, two bedside tables and lamps, questionably hot water and a window overlooking the street - which to my intense pleasure closed with two thick wood shutters that blocked out both sound and light. Our solid wood door resembled something you would have entered in a medieval tavern and it’s old-fashioned key was bigger than my hand. There was a covered seating area surrounding the inner courtyard, perfect for waiting out the afternoon rains with a good book, and an old well sitting silently just inside the garden adding to the hotel’s tattered beauty.
We walked around in the setting sun, the mountains peaks above us cutting the day short, and fell in love with the quaint cobblestone streets, the dirt paths cutting between farmland and the warmth of the people, all of whom were happy to share their beautiful home with us. Ready for dinner we headed over to an Italian restaurant and sat overlooking its gorgeous courtyard garden, basking in our brilliant decision to take a break from life in this mountain town. On our way home we were joined by a little stray puppy who bit at our heels and convinced V to play with her until she grew tired of us and ambled off to find someone more interesting.
We spent the next day wandering the streets, taking photos of crumbling farm fences covered in soft mosses and brightly coloured bougainvillea, men drinking beers in the church steeple waiting out each hour ready to ring the heavy bell, the mist settling on the mountain peaks high above town. Often the little puppy would accompany us and we began to call her Piojito meaning ‘Little Louse’ in reference to both her mischievous character and the colony of fleas that had claimed her small body as their home. A woman working at one of the local shops told us that a few weeks before someone had abandoned five puppies in the woods outside of town. Over the past few weeks they had been slowly adopted and Piojito was the only one left with no home. Resisting the urge to claim her on the spot, knowing that she would soon become a very large dog and too big for our small house, I kept my eye on her for the rest of the trip. Piojito had nothing to worry about – she was fed every day by sympathetic townsfolk and included in all of the children’s games. While I still prayed she would find a home soon I felt confident that she was being looked after.
After a short rest at the hotel we decided to wander outside of town and see some of the mines whose wealth had so long ago built San Sebastian. We ambled through farmland and entered the jungle at the base of the mountains. After twenty minutes we found the first of several three-foot openings that miners had entered each day hoping to amass their fortunes. A local woman had been nice enough to lead us on our walk and told us that during various periods of political turmoil, the women and children of San Sebastian had used these mines to hide from the revolutionaries who rode into town with the intention to rape and pillage. She also mentioned that at night in the jungle there were mountain cats and large snakes, and with the last of the days light slipping behind the mountains, we decided to cut our mine tour short and briskly walk home. We followed the country roads back into town with only the soft light of the moon illuminating the path. Lightening bugs blinked on and off in the fields beside us and thousands of stars shimmered in the indigo sky above. That night we slept soundly, safe from imaginary jungle animals, dreaming behind our heavily bolted door.
The morning of our departure dawned bright and crisp and we explored the streets one last time looking for a place to have a cup of coffee. At the edge of town we found a cafe run by a man whose family had lived in San Sebastian for generations. We climbed up to his third storey balcony and found a seat, rewarded by a beautiful view of the sleepy town nestled in its mountain valley. After a watery cappuccino and some delicious complimentary cookies we headed back to our hotel, stumbling over large ripe oranges fallen from over laden fruit trees along the side of the road.
When I had imagined us living in small town Mexico months before this is exactly what I had pictured and I was sad to think that today we would be leaving it behind and returning home. Biting into our sun-warmed oranges, juice dripping down our chins, I knew we would be back.
