Mad Men Style in Acapulco with Tarzan, John Wayne, Elvis, and Me

As I sit alone overlooking Roqueta Island in the bay from the balcony of my 50’s style minimalist hotel room, I take a swing from a bottle of Mezcal and feel a sense of nostalgia for a time I never knew. I am at Boca Chica, the chicest, retro, and storied hotel in Mexico’s best Pacific ocean fishing village turned city, Acapulco, and I can’t help but think that I might be able to write something worth remembering here, as I think about Hunter S. Thompson and Ernest Hemingway doing their scribbling, in a different age. Not that long ago, this place was the place to be.  First owned by Johnny Weissmuller (the original Tarzan) and John Wayne (the original badass), the hotel has gone through many changes over the years, including losing its once compelling allure, and becoming a sort of monument to itself, before Grupo Habita bought the place and instituted a complete overhaul, redesigning the hotel and grounds while recreating the Hollywood glamor of Boca Chica’s heyday. The hotel reopened in 2010, and the result is a retro-cool that you’d be hard-pressed to find outside of a Mad Men set. Elizabeth Taylor, Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra, and John F. Kennedy stayed here. And although I don’t immediately recognize any of the people sunbathing by the beach or pool, there is certainly the kind of perfect bodies, cheekbones, and plastic surgery that imply fame and fortune. I feel right at home.

I am penning this from the room’s shaded hammock on my hotel’s private terrace in front of all-white louvered open doors, letting my room soak up the sun and breeze from Acapulco Bay. It is currently low season in Mexico, and the hotel is not busy. From where I’m sitting, I can look past the few couples kissing down below under the thatched roof restaurant by the sexy pool. I can see the jet skis and small fishing boats cruising noisily along the bay. A few people drink in the sun, but none of the drinks have umbrellas. This is an “on-the-rocks” type of place.

Although a small natural beach on Boca Chica’s grounds served as the backdrop to Elvis’s “Fun in Acapulco” film, one of Acapulco’s most popular beaches is just a short walk. There are other Acapulco Mexico hotels, but this one has the best worlds, the luxurious cool of past and present, and the real Mexico right outside the gates. I went down there earlier in the day, the sounds of Mexico surrounding me, Spanish and mariachi music floating through the air, the melodious sounds shredded by vendors daring me not to make eye contact. They were selling ceviche of all sorts for about US$3.50 per plate. The vendors are out in full force, but they seem to get that I am taken once I choose my beach chair. This must be what it’s like for a beautiful woman when she gets a ring on her finger. All of the vendors leave me alone once I sit down. There must be some understanding that once a tourist chooses his business, he must be left alone. I watch the families fooling around in the wave-less bay with floaties, soccer balls, and laughter.

I am thirsty from lazing around in my beach chair and drinking in the bright sun reflecting off Acapulco Bay, a semi-circular bay used as a trading hub since early in Mexico’s colonial history. I order water from my fish ceviche vendor. He only has curves and coke but tells me to wait a minute. I see him run down the beach to a neighboring vendor and grab a water bottle from his styrofoam cooler. The ceviche is average with an orange citrus twist, but a mariachi musician decked out in his flashy black clothes (he has to be hot), and guitar takes a seat next to me and orders the same thing. We exchange pleasantries.

In most beach towns, the local vendors are out to get you. Cuanto cuesta? I ask the vendor. Forty-six pesos, he replies. This is a normal price. I was fully prepared to be price-gouged as a gringo, but I received the same bill as any local vacationer, around $3.50 for the ceviche and another $.50 for the water. This particular area of Acapulco had given me a glimpse into what Acapulco was like before it was overrun by American and Mexican tourists who could be easily separated from their money.  Could Acapulco be returning to its former glory as an authentic getaway for a few privileged foreigners? I have no clue besides rumors that the richest man in the world, Carlos Slim, has been buying up property for the last three years. But at least in the La Caleta neighborhood where Boca Chica sits comfortably, it is far enough away from any big Acapulco Mexico hotels or attractions to make this small area of the city unique from the likes of big resort destinations like Cancun or even anywhere else in Acapulco.

Some things don’t change. The world-famous La Quebrada cliff divers still jump one-hundred and twenty-five feet with tourists watching from the aging El Mirador Hotel since 1934. Other things change to keep the same spirit.

Boca Chica opened the city’s first sushi restaurant in the 1950s, and today, in 2012, Boca Chica’s restaurant serves a Mexican-Japanese fusion. Acapulco was a significant trading hub that saw exotic spices and foods pass through from as far as the Philippines hundreds of years ago,  it makes sense that Asian ingredients would heavily influence the best restaurant in town. Currently operated by Executive Chef Keisuke Harada, the restaurant exemplifies the chic, classy cool that the hotel aims for with creative sushi specials.

Back inside the somewhat guarded compound of Boca Chica, I ordered a cucumber cocktail, followed by a strongly brewed cafe-americano that I sipped to try to get my head back into writing mode. The usual modern resort tack is nowhere in sight, only the low-lying tropical palm trees, and elegant architecture. I’m no star, certainly no celebrity, but I can relate to the stars that came here, as they must have been busy, flying from a movie set to red carpet premiers. I certainly haven’t been to any of those, but I am in the middle of a mind-bogglingly busy three weeks of travel throughout Mexico that has taken me from adventure travel in the jungle, exclusive cocktail parties and receptions, and a tradeshow in Veracruz to rappelling into sunken caves and driving a Ferrari race car in the Riviera Maya, and even pre-urban exploration in the resort town of Playa del Carmen. I see how a little glamorous relaxation, a stiff drink, and the site of a curvy tan line-free back can recharge the batteries. I can see why celebrities made Boca Chica their recluse. It is a private place, with actual Mexico a stone’s throw away. And the glamorous past always just on more drink away.