Mismaloya is most famous as the site where the 1963 John Huston film The Night of the Iguana was filmed. The set and crew quarters rise up the hill on the south side of the Mismaloya cove. Sadly, the set is only ruins now. The movie made Puerto Vallarta famous, but the set has been forgotten. On the other side of Highway 200 from Mismaloya is El Eden, a jungle setting where parts of the movie Predator were filmed and the location of the Tequila factory that we were going to visit.
We found a driver who agreed to chauffeur us around for about $35
The ride down the coast isn’t an easy one. It’s full of twists and turns through the jungle with a sheer cliff on the west side of the two-lane road during most of the journey. And our driver, Jesus, drove like a maniac. I think, maybe, all of the cab drivers drive this way. Maybe all of the locals in Puerto Vallarta drive like that. Who knows? But it’s pretty scary.
When we arrived in the little village of Eden, I was surprised at how it looked. It was just like something out of a movie. Dirt roads, adobe buildings, old men sitting on the sidewalks drinking beer, dogs wondering around, kids with filthy clothes and dirty faces… It was a different world.
Finally, we reached Mama Lucia’s Tequila Factory.
What the hell, “Come with us,” I said to Jesus before climbing out of the car and onto the dusty sidewalk in front of the dilapidated building. Honestly, I was afraid he would abandon us out there in the middle of nowhere. At the same time, I figured that he might be able to serve as an interpreter since neither Jackie nor I speak Spanish.
So there we were, just the three of us sampling, sipping, and swigging Tequila for about two hours. When we were finished, I was certainly in no condition to drive. Neither was Jackie. And neither was the driver. But, it was his job, so he did it.
The ride back to town was an adventure. Jesus saw that Jackie and I were terrified, and this pleased him to no extent. He kept giggling like a lunatic every time the bald tires on his shitty taxi cab screeched while he took a curve at a high rate of speed. Fuck. That was one scary ride.
As we pulled into Old Town Puerto Vallarta, I asked Jesus when his shift ended. “One hour ago,” he told us. We felt terrible that we kept him out for so long and, to make it up to him, we invited him to have another drink with us. He gladly accepted.
He parked the car and the three of us ducked into a dark and warm ba
r that only served warm Pacifico. We downed one each and headed across the street to a little place with a restaurant in the front and a cool little bar located off the alley in the back. We stayed there for at least two hours. Drinking and laughing and singing and drinking. Besides the bartender, who kept running out to (I assume) buy more beer, we were the only three people in the place. We were having a great time.Then, a huge man with huge ears and huge lips and a huge head of black curly hair walked in and started to make his way toward us. With purpose. I looked at Jesus and saw that his face was bright red. Was this big guy some sort of enemy? Was he going to rob us? Was he going to kill us? A million thoughts ran through my mind.
“Eligio,” Jesus yelled.
Thank God. The know each other. But the big man didn’t seem too happy. He was cursing and yelling at Jesus in Spanish and Jesus remained pretty quiet. Eventually, Jesus handed over his car keys to Eligio.
Turns out, Eligio was Jesus’ relief driver; Jesus was supposed to turn the cab over to Eligio at the end of his shift. But he was drinking with us instead.
Eligio didn’t speak as much English as Jesus but somehow we convinced him to join us for a beer before he started work. He accepted and the four of us continued to drink for another hour or so. Then Eligio got a call to pick someone up at the Marina. Off he went. Drunk.
A day in the life in Puerto Vallarta.
