Are you still searching for that elusive island of Margaritaville? Most of us are so you're not alone in your quest. Maybe some of the following will help guide you as you sail the ocean blue.
From the San Francisco Chronicle/Examiner Sunday Travel Section: Reprinted without permission
John Flinn
Examiner Travel Editor
DON'T BOTHER looking for it on any nautical chart, much less in a Lonely Planet guidebook. You won't find it. But if you're of a certain age - say, between 35 and 55 - Margaritaville is probably as much a part of your mental topography as Shangri-La, Lake Woebegon or Pine Valley.
The bare outlines, of course, are intimately familiar to Parrotheads - Jimmy Buffett fans - or anyone with a car radio button set to classic rock: "Strummin' my six-string, on my front-porch swing, smell those shrimp they're beginning to boil." And, always humming away in the background, is that overachieving little blender.
In his book "Tales from Margaritaville," Buffett gives some clues to its whereabouts: "Ever since I was a child, I have had a recurring dream of visiting an island; it appears at different locations on the perimeter of the Gulf of Mexico - west of Tortuga, south of Ship Island, or the middle of Perdido Bay. Somewhere and everywhere, Margaritaville has its origins."
In our mind's eye, Margaritaville is a balmy, palmy, barefoot paradise where the pace is slow, the rents are low and the time-share condo commandos are at least a decade away. It's a place for languid afternoon siestas in gently swaying hammocks and endless happy hours under the thatched roofs of beachside cantinas.
As the days turn cold, gray and drizzly, we find ourselves drifting off to that mythical place with increased frequency, and increased yearning. Where, we wondered, might a real-life traveler find a real-life Margaritaville? To help us look, we've enlisted the help of four peripatetic travel writers.
These are the ground rules: It's got to be warm, with a beach nearby. It's got to be cheap, and a comfortable distance from the bustle of high-rise resorts. It should require no clothing more formal than a T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops.
For our search, we've expanded to boundaries to include Mexico, Puerto Rico and the Greek Isles. As Jimmy Buffett says, Margaritaville can be just about anywhere you want it to be. And when you find it, you will know.
| Playa Troncones, Mexico |  |
Along Mexico's sultry central Pacific Coast, 35 minutes north of Ixtapa's pre-cast hotels and free-form swimming pools, Troncones Beach lazes in sunny solitude.
There's the crash and slurp of the relentless waves, the insistent calls from swooping herons and cormorants, the slow-moving shade of the breezy palms and a seemingly endless swath of creamy sand backed by the heady abandon of an untamed jungle.
On summer nights, the gentle air is a tropical symphony of soft, sweet smells and the sea shimmers in the moonlight with a pirate's ransom of gold. It's on nights such as these that sea turtles scramble onto Troncones' pristine coral sands to lay eggs by the thousands.
Turtles, in fact, outnumber tourists. When my husband and I basked in Troncones last fall, we sloshed like solitary egrets through the surf for half an hour, scrambling over rocks to a stunning scimitar of sand with no mark of man's heavy hand. Eventually we met a grizzled fisherman repairing his nets by a crayon-colored panga. Otherwise, we were alone on the honeyed coast.
Gringos living in Zihuatanejo recapture the feel of undiscovered Mexico by retreating to Troncones and checking into El Burro Borracho (The Drunken Burro) for a week or three, packing little more a well-worn swimsuit. They come not for the style, but for the life.
Days begin with a late breakfast around the rough wooden tables of the cement-floored, open-air restaurant. Guests linger for hours over pan-fried porkshops, eggs, beans and tortillas, swapping tales and tracking the steady rise of local real estate prices.
By noon they've moved to the lounge chairs and downed a sweaty Corona or two. Afternoons are spent in hammocks slung across the front porches of El Burro's six unadorned bricked rooms.
El Burro's three homely duplex units were built 20 years ago, then abandoned until Canadian Anita Lapointe resuscitated them in 1993. From mid-November through Easter last year, three-quarters of her guests were repeat visitors, staying two to four weeks.
A more refined option is a short distance up the coast at Casa de la Tortuga (House of the Turtle), opened in 1990 by Americans Dewey McMillin and Karolyn McCall. Views from this six-bedroom, four-bath home are as near as the egrets strutting the shore, as distant as the setting sun falling into the Pacific and unleashing a filigree of flames across the sky.
Both properties offer boogie boards, sea kayaking and snorkel gear. There's close-in snorkeling and spearfishing around the rocks at one end of the beach.
You can stir up adventure by a strenuous uphill trek through the jungle to a cave with a panoramic beach view, by watching turtles by moonlight or by galloping down the beach on horseback.
Then again, there's always the hammock.
Getting there:
No buses go to Playa Troncones. A cab ride from Ixtapa costs about $15 each way. About 18 miles north of Zihuatanejo, turn off the coast road near Km marker 30 and continue 2.2 miles to the beach. Turn left for El Burro Borracho, right for La Casa de la Tortuga.
Lodging:
El Burro Borracho: $50 a day for two, including continental breakfast at the restaurant. Contact: El Burro Borracho, Troncones, Guerrero, Mexico. Fax: 011-52-755-4-3296.
La Casa de la Tortuga sleeps 12 and can be rented for $450 a day in winter, or by the room for $50 to $100 per night, including full breakfast. Prices are about 50 percent less in summer. Contact: La Casa de la Tortuga, P.O. Box 37, Zihuatanejo, Guerro, 40880 Mexico. Phone: 011-52-755-7-0732; fax: 011-52-755-3-2417.
- Susan Kaye
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| Boqueron, Puerto Rico | |
Potent rum drinks, icy beers and fresh oysters on the half-shell from a street vendor. Salsa music pulsing from every two-bit bar and seafood shack. People milling about the middle of the town's main drag - eating, drinking, laughing - while the late-afternoon sun hovers just above a watery horizon. These are the sights, sounds and tastes of Saturday in Boqueron.
A tiny fishing port in Puerto Rico's extreme southwest corner, Boqueron is literally and figuratively as far away on this island as you can get from the glitzy hotel-casinos of San Juan.
The town sits at the midpoint of a three-mile-wide bay, right next to a swampy mangrove forest and bird refuge. The sandy beach fronting the bay sweeps dramatically in a wide arc lined with cabins and groves of coconut palms. In the 19th century, the fearsome pirate Roberto Cofresi holed up in a nearby cave between daring raids on coastal settlements and cargo-laden ships.
These days, nothing much happens in Boqueron from Monday through Friday. The fishermen head out to sea to try their luck, a few of the town's businesses are open - albeit at unpredictable hours - and there's only a scattering of sunbathers and swimmers at the vast public beach. It feels exactly like what it is: a speck on the map, the place where Road 101 runs into the sea at the western edge of Puerto Rico.
But come the weekend, Boqueron becomes Partytown. People drive from Mayaguez or other cities to spend a day or two at the beach. In the late afternoon, as barbecues are packed up and the showers and changing rooms of the public facilities begin to empty, beachgoers drift into town for the outdoor party. It's a very Puerto Rican affair - friendly, spontaneous, and utterly unorganized. Guaranteed to loosen you up.
Another round of daiquiris and oysters? Sure, why not. The night is warm, and it's just begun.
Getting there:
By car, Boqueron is about three hours from San Juan and 30 minutes from Mayaguez. You can also get there via publicos, the vans that link most of the island's towns and cities.
Lodging:
Government-owned beachside cabins that sleep six run $100 per night. For rental information, contact the Compania de Fomento Recreativo in San Juan (787-724-2500, ext. 130 or 131). Other options are the Boqueron Beach Hotel ($59-$107 double; 787-851-7110) and Parador Boquemar ($65-$80 double; 787-851-2158).
Eating and drinking:
Head for the town's main street and take your pick. Most places feature local seafood accompanied by tostones, plantain fritters that are a staple of Puerto Rican cooking. For an appetizer, try the marinated octopus - it's surprisingly tender.
Word to the wise:
"White" or "silver" rum - which is year-old rum that's been filtered to make it clear - is fine for mixed drinks, but Puerto Rico also produces outstanding aged rums best drunk neat. Highly recommended is Barrilito Tres Estrellas, a very smooth blend of rums aged six to 10 years in charred oak barrels.
- Chris Hall
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| Tulum, Yucatan (Mexico) | |
The beer in my hand was cold as ice; the parrot on my shoulder was quiet as could be; the beach at my feet was so brilliant it strained the eyes; the sea crashing in in great froths was a castaway's dream. Was this paradise?
I was sitting in a homey resort called "Cabanas Ana y Jose" on the east coast of Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula, about four miles south of Tulum. I had just gorged on grilled fish and sweet papayas, and my parrot friend had helped clean my plate before finding his perch on my shoulder.
I was still tempted by the lobster and crab on the menu, but they could wait because the sea was calling - the Caribbean Sea, as splendid a body of water as the earth has to offer, and for me, a place that is never far from my dreams.
The first time I saw Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula I was younger and greener than I like to remember, but the hold it has on me can't be exaggerated. It was my first time in the tropics, and like any seminal experience, it comes back to me again and again, like a mantra or a siren's song.
A friend and I had traveled south to the border town of Chetumal too late for the last bus into Belize. Rather than doze fitfully in the bus station, we decided to take a walk and sleep on the beach.
Under a palm tree we found a coconut so fresh it must have fallen that day. What to do at 2 a.m.? We sliced off the top, poured in two of those little airline bottles of rum we'd kept since landing in Mexico (how we got upgraded to first class remains a mystery), and, as rain spattered on the palm fronds above, sat back sharing the freshest pina colada I've ever tasted.
On this recent visit to the Yucatan I spent a long, hot day exploring the Sian Ka'an Biosphere Reserve, a magnificent expanse of tropical forest, mangrove swamps and coastal waters. We swam, we watched birds, we explored Mayan sites and we thirsted.
Nothing could quench such thirst until we made our way to Ana y Jose's, a place perched on the dunes with the Caribbean crashing majestically at its feet. Chairs and tables were lodged in the sand beneath a palm-frond roof, and in that heat those cervezas were spectacularly cold.
After one beer I wondered why I hadn't sat there all day. After another I thought I should stay there all week. And why not? After all, just up the beach is the spectacular archaeological site of Tulum; just up the road is similarly impressive Coba; a little farther on are several other famous Mayan sites.
And most importantly, right there before me was the brilliant white beach, with good swimming just beyond the breakers, great snorkeling a short paddle away. The ambience was right and the price was right.
All you need to do is make your way here and settle in. There's lots to explore, but if your fancy is to do nothing at all, there's plenty of that, too.
When I think of the tropics, I often think of that rum in the coconut, but I always think of the Yucatan, a first love I can return to again and again, without disappointment.
Getting There:
If time is short, fly to Cancun, rent a car, and head south about two hours to Tulum along Highway 307. Veer off along the sea at Tulum on the old road toward Punta Allen, then follow your nose and your fancy, and choose a place that suits you. There are several cheap places just south of the Tulum archaeological site. Cabanas Ana y Jose is about four miles farther on. If you have some time, fly instead to Merida and spend a few days there enjoying the lively scene. Then take a couple of days to make your way to the east coast, stopping at the magnificent sites of Chichen-Itza and Uxmal along the way before heading south to Tulum.
Lodging:
Cabanas Ana y Jose cost $35 to $50 per night. For reservations call the office in Cancun at 011-52-98-80-60-21 or fax 011-52-98-80-60-22. Other options range from almost nothing to string up a hammock to $100 at Osho Oasis. Most of the smaller places range from $12 to $50 per cabana.
Eating and Drinking:
There's lots of fresh fruit and fruits of the sea. The fish is superb. Take your pick of places, but Ana y Jose will take care of you.
- Larry Habegger
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| Loutro, Crete (Greece) | |
I first set eyes on Loutro five summers ago from the deck of a caique, one of the ferries that plies the rocky, sun-baked south coast of Crete. Encircling a perfect azure cove were half a dozen whitewashed tavernas where cats napped in the shade of overhanging bougainvillas.
We hadn't planned to stay, but as the caique rammed its bow onto the gravelly beach my wife Jeri and I looked at each other, grabbed our backpacks and hopped off. Loutro is the kind of place that makes you change your plans.
There are no cars in this somnolent fishing village; the nearest road is several hours away. There are only two ways to get here: by foot, along the rugged coastal path from Chora Sfakion, or by one of the caiques that call several times a day.
At a shady waterfront taverna, with a bottle of chilled retsina in front of us and the sea lapping near our feet, we gazed south, imagining we could make out the not-so-distant coastline of North Africa. Here, in the southwest corner of Crete, we were closer to Libya than Athens.
For four days we did little but read paperbacks and doze on the sun-splashed deck of our pension, swim in the bathtub-warm sea and eat Greek salads and tzatziki in the tavernas. Once, in a fit of ambition, we slipped into our flip-flops and padded uphill to inspect the ruins of a Venetian fort.
The Loutro area has been in use as a port as far back as the first century. The cove around the corner, known as Phoenix, is where St. Paul was heading when his boat was blown off course by a storm; he was eventually shipwrecked on Malta. Today Loutro is home to a handful of fishing families, the owners of a few pensions and tavernas and the smattering of travelers who find their way here.
Euro-sunseekers tend to bypass Loutro because it doesn't have much of a beach, but you can walk east along the coast to several decent swimming coves or hire a fishing boat to take you to Sweetwater Beach. Be aware that the latter is a nude beach.
Getting there:
Take one of the several daily caiques west from Chora Sfakion or east from Agia Roumeli at the end of the Samaria Gorge (cost: under $5) or walk several hours along the coastal path from either town.
Lodging: Pension rooms go for $15 to $30, including breakfast. It's worth spending a little extra for a room with a deck overlooking the sea. There's no point in listing individual pensions - none of them have phones or addresses. When you arrive in Loutro ask the owners of the tavernas along the water.
Eating and drinking:
Maistrali, to your immediate left as you step off the caique, has good moussaka. Maria and Zambia's has a lively nighttime scene. At least they did a few years ago. The places change, and signs are hard to spot. Your best bet is to wander along the waterfront tavernas and poke your nose into the kitchens.
Word to the wise:
Retsina wine, which is cheap and abundant here, is liberally laced with pine resin. Overindulge at your peril.
- John Flinn
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| Bonaire, Caribbean (South America) | |
From the Tri-City Herald Sunday Travel Section: Reprinted without permission
By Joel Simon
Universal Press Syndicate
The moment I enter the sea, gravity ceases. Scuba gear in place, I'm suddenly free -- free to sink, to swim in any direction I please, to turn somersaults or float like a great leaf flirting with the sky. In a real sense, diving is flight -- a wingless, weightless, effortless sojourn through a world of wondrous life, mystery and magic.
Beneath me, tawny-colored hard corals, like so many uplifted arms, stretch toward the sun; a dense carpet of sea fans and soft corals gently undulate wit the sea's rhythms; bright orange sponges punctuate the greens, blues, purples, reds and yellows of neighboring creatures. It is a garden of animals, all dancing in unison.
A dense school of small purple fish greet me, surround me and then make way as I slowly descend through their midst. As I drift slowly to the reef, a sea anemone waves its long, slender , pink-tipped tentacles, inviting a closer look. Almost transparent, a blue-spotted shrimp sits comfortable atop on e waving arm, wiggling its antennae. I feel huge alongside this shrimp and simultaneously small against the endless expanse of blue. Life beneath tropical seas is a world only the scuba diver or snorkeler can experience.
And the arid Dutch island of Bonaire, just 50 miles off the coast of Venezuela, is one of the best Caribbean destination to learn the underwater skills necessary to enjoy these activities.
This is no accident. While neighboring islands built refineries and bunkers for Venezuelan oil and integrated commerce, shipping and industry into their economies, Bonaire continued to shepherd its primary resource -- a lush band of reef surrounding the entire island. On Bonaire, turtles have been legally protected since the mid-1960s. In the mid-70s, when spearguns were a popular as underwater cameras are today, Bonaire did the unthinkable: prohibited spearfishing. As a result, Bonaire's fish became numerous and friendly, unlike those of many other Caribbean islands.
In 1979 Bonaire once again made an unprecedented move: The government legislated a Marine Park that totally protected everything, living or dead, from the high tide line to a depth of 200 feet. Boats were prohibited from dropping anchors. As a result, the reef thrived.
In 1992, despite strong political opposition, Bonaire again set a standard by enacting an annual $10 park entrance fee, making it self-supporting.
"Most Bonairians never learn to swim," says Kalli de Meyer manager of the Marine Park since 1991. "How can we expect someone to value a resource they've never seen and know so little about?"
But this, too, is changing. The Marine Park, in conjunction with the Dive Operators Association and with government support, has implemented a program known as Tortuganan di Boneireu, Turtles of Bonaire. Four times a month, small groups of local children are offered swimming and snorkeling lessons.
"Many visitors ask me what our Marine Park does," says de Meyer. "Our goal is sustainable use of the resource. We do this in four ways: installing and maintaining permanent boat moorings; sponsoring marine research programs; enforcing our prohibitions against anchors, spearfishing, and pollution; and most importantly, by education."
Conservation through education about the reef, its strength and vulnerability, is the park's main focus., which for many visitors begins with a scuba diving course or snorkeling lessons. Bonaire's north-south orientation offers 24 miles of protected leeward coast. Calm, clear, warm water and plenty of excellent instruction make it an ideal choice for beginners. Most diver operators offer courses ranging from the most basic to the most advanced.
The island virtually invites you into the water. The fringing reef uniformly hugs the coast, starting in only a few feet of water and sloping gradually into the depths. Most resorts operate boats that give divers and snorkelers about 70 sites to choose from along the protected shores of the main island and the small neighboring island of Klein Bonaire.
For independent divers, the ocean is always open. Most resorts have well-designed docks with study ladders extending into the water. Simply grab a tank, gear up and take a long walk off a short pier. Anytime, day or night, the reef is your front yard.
Many divers enjoy the luxury of boat diving, but others prefer to rent one of the readily available Jeeps or minivans, load it with gear and a picnic basket, and simply drive t any of about 30 clearly marked shore dive locations. The Marine Park distributes free maps and has brightly painted little yellow stones along the road marking the easiest access points. You can usually park just a few yards from the sea.
One such shore dive location, indicated by the yellow stones, arks the site of the wreck of the Hilma Hooker, a 235-foot steel-hulled freighter that sank in 1984. The ship lies in 100 feet of water, the uppermost portions of its deck just 60 feet below the surface, making it more suitable for divers than snorkelers.
Now in his early 70s and as salty as they come, Don is a Bonaire legend who freely admits to being "invited" to leave several islands before sailing to Bonaire. His friend, Albert Romijn, president of BONHATA (Bonaire Hotel & Tourism Association), says with a smile, "No matter what Don tells you the truth is he stayed on Bonaire because that's where his ship sank."
Permanent mooring on the island's dive and snorkel sites re one of the key elements of the Marine Park.
"Dropping anchors obviously kills the coral," says park manager de Meyer, "but even worse is anchor chain. A hundred feet of chain will absolutely devastate hundreds of years of coral growth in a single afternoon. Moorings allow boats to use a site over and over again, without killing a single coral animal. They make so much sense, we hardly thing about a time before their use, but here was a time."
In the mid-70s, Don created the first permanent mooring, and then popularized the concept in his Sea Tether Program, the prototype for Bonaire and countless other marine parks and dive locations worldwide.
"People give me credit for the idea of a permanent mooring," Don says. "Well, the first mooring was just an anchor which I hammered into the reef. But this was important; it was a start, and the idea was right."
"We had to do what we could to preserve the reef. We banned spearfishing in the early 1970s after a hugely successful fishing contest. The reason was pretty clear. After the contest there were hardly any fish left. But it wasn't the reef we were concerned with it was our living. No reef, no divers, no income -- pretty simple relationship. So here was an excellent platform for conservation; a harmonious marriage of environment and economics."
The marriage has prospered. Bonaire is consistently rated among the world's top 10 dive and snorkel destinations. And we can thank Captain Don for all the fish.
Of course, Bonaire's visitors can see more than fish. In addition to masks, fins and snorkels, there are mountain bikes, wind surfers, sea kayaks, charter sail and fishing boats and remnants of the slave days. In the capital of Kralendijk, known locally simply as "Playa," an assortment of restaurants, bars and boutiques has evolved. There's even a casino and a discotheque.
Washington-Slagbaai National Park on the north end f the island is the site of two former aloe plantations. The park includes a small museum, an interpretive facility on Bonaire's natural history and buildings used during the plantation days.
So far, 191 species of birds have been sighted here, including parrots, pelicans, sandpipers, terns, ospreys and egrets. But it's the flamingos that get the most attention. Bonaire is home to the Caribbean's only breeding sanctuary for these graceful birds. This year alone, about 3,000 were hatched on the island -- but they're so vulnerable at birth, many would have been lost without the thlep of Marlise, the "bird lady" of Bonaire.
All the local fishermen know Marlise. They bring her baby flamingos, which she raises in her backyard.
"Poor things," she says. "When they are young they have no weight at all -- little living feather pillows that get blown far from home in the wind. The fishermen find them floating at sea, drifting miles from the coast, like wet little paper bags. So they scoop them up and bring them to me."
Experts estimate there are close to 40,000 flamingos on the island, but nobody know for sure how many there are. Known as the "Flamingo Isle," you see flamingos represented everywhere on Bonaire: on T-shirts, sunglasses and post cards. The Flamingo Airport is painted pink, passports are stamped with a flamingo emblem, and cardboard flamingos perch on the straws of tropical drinks.
Bonaire is not noted for its beaches, but there is a single large stretch of sand, Pink Beach, so named because when viewed from the sea under jut the right light, it can appear pink. A few small beaches line some of the coves, but most of Bonaire's coast is limestone. It's hard on bare feet, but an ideal substrate fro reef-building coral, the solid foundation on which the island has built its thriving marine ecology and its prosperous diving industry.
For young and old, novice and expert, Bonaire offers an opportunity to experience a magical world, an experience aptly described by a 72-year-old grandmother after snorkeling with her young granddaughter:
"I feel as though we've just been to the ballet. I don't know why it took me so long to try this out."
Of all the wilderness experiences available today, diving and snorkeling may best allow us to mingle intimately and benignly with wildlife o its own terms; to be a part of or at least witness to, a realm little-changed for millions of years.
If you go
Most residents of Bonaire -- comfortably below the Hurricane Belt -- speak at least three languages, including English, Dutch and Spanish, in addition to their native Papiamento. The local currency is Antillean guilders ($1 U.S. equals 1.75 guilders), but U.S. dollars are universally accepted and most establishments take major credit cards.
ALM Antillean Airlines (800-327-7230) has direct flights to Bonaire on Saturdays from Miami and Atlanta. Other airlines, as well as ALM, fly daily to nearby Curacao or Aruba, where frequent connections to Bonaire are available. A passport, birth certificate or other proof of citizenship is needed to clear customs.
Nearly all hotels, resorts and guest houses offer dive packages with their own (or affiliated) dive operations. Many resorts have boats dedicated to snorkeling.
Boat dives average $33, including tank and weight, and for $14, many resorts offer unlimited use of tanks for shore diving. Open-water certification courses cost about $300 and usually take four or five days to complete. Certified divers should remember to bring their C-Card and dive log in order to rent scuba gear.
Cars, Jeeps and mini-vans are readily available through major agencies and a number of local car rental companies. Most roads are paved, the driving is easy and traffic keeps to the right. Your local driver's license is all you'll need. A wide range of restaurants and cafes cater to many dining preferences. Dress is quite casual. Shorts, T-shirts and sandals are fine in most restaurants.
Dinner for two, with a couple of beers, average $35. Some dive resorts offer evening slide-illustrated presentations by local underwater photographers and naturalists.
For further information, call the Tourist Corp. of Bonaire in New York at (800-826-6247).
Want more? The Jimmy Buffett Listserv List Travel Page is an excellent place to start. Enjoy your travels and tell us all about it. We'd love to come virtual vacationing with you!
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