Puerto Vallarta is 8 hours up the Pacific coast of Mexico so arrived after another night on the bus. I've really managed to master the sleeping techniques for bus travel after so much practice, tucking myself up in a well-rehearsed ball and effortlessly finding the groove on the armrest for my head. It's a true art that I am very proud of.

Puerto Vallarta is known for being another party town for American tourists, a mini-Cancun but with a lot more tact and subtlety. The taxi driver taking me into town from the bus station seemed very proud to tell me how Puerto Vallarta was home to Joan Collins' holiday home and I must have feigned interest too well because he insisted on taking a detour to show me her front gates and then charging me for the privilege.

Puerto Vallarta has a beautiful beachfront which was home to some of the most impressive street performers ever. One of the most incredible was also the simplest, some old dude stacking stones on top of each other. It doesn't sound too special but when he managed to get piles taller than himself with nothing to stick them together it really was hours of enjoyment. Further down the beach from Mr. Rockstacker was the traditional Mayan dancing that involves 4 or 5 men climbing I massive pole about 50 foot high and then swinging from ropes as the pole spins around.

By far the most impressive bit of beachfront Tom-foolery however were the sand sculptures on the main beach. There was a bigger-than-life replica of Da Vinci's last supper that was nothing short of of spectacular.

After wandering up and down the beachfront for hours I was feeling very extremely happy and so decided to take a trip to the museum of the Mexican navy in the hope it would add to the fantastic day....it did not. Without a doubt I can guarantee a more rubbish museum has never been built on this planet. The only security guard in the place was asleep, though guess it wasn't too risky since I can't imagine anyone in their right mind wanting to steal models of ships that I could do a better job of with duplo. On top of the embarrassing models and the lack of bathrooms it also turns out the Mexican navy really hasnt done that much of any importance, interest or good. A combination that ensured an extremely tedious experience all round.

On my way home, still in a trance of dullness I saw a poster for a comedy night taking place in one of the big bars on the beach obviously aimed at young American 'spring break types.' I've secretly been writing some stand up stuff for a while and thought trying it for the first time in a random town in Mexico that I was leaving the following morning was as good a start as any so I signed up for a 15 minute slot before shaking uncontrollably for the next three hours. I was fairly well prepared but when the time came I was still considering pulling out and legging it into the Pacific. That was until I saw the clown who was on before my slot...literally a clown. He pranced around for a solid 10 minutes with his full clown gear, building up to the highlight of his act which involved sticking a ruler in his tie to make it stiff. After seeing the generous applause for a stiff tie and comedy shoes my confidence grew enough to get up and do it, and it went surprisingly smooth with no heckling or rotten fruit throwing.

I left early the following morning with my dignity pretty much in tact, catching the bus to take me North again, inching closer to America. The next pacific stop-off was going to be Mazatlan.