Everyone you know has been to Sayulita.
It's like the Acapulco of our parents' generation, but with more blond dreadlocks.
As informed by the friends who've been, the Sayulita of my imagination looks like a more humid Tofino with steeper cliffs, lusher greenery, brightly coloured umbrellas and narrow winding paths down to the beach where you can crush buckets of beer into your face while sun-kissed surfers crush waves sans wetsuits.
In Tofino you see human-seals in slippery, black dry-suits. In Sayulita, you see (mostly likely) California boys bouncing and bobbing in long-shorts and grins.
We decided to book the trip on a whim. Go home and spend the long weekend with your family, gazing at a plate of mashed potatoes swimming in a pool of gravy, or fuck it, jump ship and go to Mexico for five days. Call it a work trip. Call it a mini sun-cation. We're calling it absolutely necessary for sanity because it's been a long Autumn filled with funerals and moving trucks and not nearly enough napping. And praise the turkey-and-mashed-potato-gods, Sayulita does not disappoint.
From the slightly still sand-crusted heads of three Vancouver ladies, here some Do's and Don'ts for a long weekend in Sayulita:
DO rent a red, convertible Fiat with AC and a teeny trunk.
DON'T expect that it has suspension over those awkwardly placed speed bumps.
DO pop the top and turn up the local university radio station 104.3 FM.
DON'T pull over just because a fancy truck has police lights. Apparently you can buy them at the corner store and they mean nothing.
DO secure a reasonably priced Casita (sleeps 3) with a home-made infinity pool which you use as a makeshift bathtub to rid your bits of sand after a sweaty day out and aboot.
DON'T allow your conservative American Casita-neighbours shame you out of an evening skinny-dipping just because they're already in the pool.
DO make up a convincing lie about only having one bathing suit (which is wet, #sorrynotsorry) and offer them a safe exit strategy.
DON'T congratulate yourself on inspiring a hot night of steamy (sweaty) love making because aforementioned American Casita-neighbours embrace their nudity and skinny dip with 3 adult ladies after all. #inspire #gettwett #behumble
DO order beers and ceviche on the beach and watch the sunset at an over-priced Gringo-haven on your first night.
DON'T order the margaritas. No, really. Don't.
DO sometimes listen to the advice of well-meaning strangers, as they will tell you where to find the best fish tacos and show you to the cowboys by the river, which equals pony rides.
DON'T always listen to the advice of well-meaning strangers when you ask them where to go for breakfast or fun times. They might try to send you for banana bread in PV.
DO ask the three strange men standing on the roof of your casita, who they are and what they are doing there. It's just good to do.
DON’T be afraid to sweep away their cigarette butts and reclaim your safe space by cleansing the rooftop with rain, thunder, lightning and women.
There you go! Now book yourself a plane ticket and escape this dreary city for a glorious, sexy, sun soaked siesta in the mostly perfect Sayulita.