National Geographic : 1973 Nov
golden beaches. Private yachts cruising the cobalt bay mingle with Japanese fishing boats putting in for supplies. Between Manzanillo and Acapulco there is still a 120-mile gap in the coast highway, and you must make a long detour inland to Mexico City, where you pick up the very good road between the capital and Acapulco (map, page 673). Near the end of this highway you drop steeply out of the Sierra Madre into the streets of what seems to be just another Mexican city of 300,000 people. Suddenly you come to the Costera Miguel Aleman, and you are in a different world. Named for a former Mexican president and early promoter of Acapulco, the Costera is the bay-front boulevard, lined on both sides with hotels, restaurants, shops, and nightclubs. Costera traffic is a solid stream of buses, taxis, trucks, cars, and motorcycles. I waited five minutes for a break in the traffic so I could cross the boulevard to the beach. With me was Teddy Stauffer, the city's most tireless press agent, its most devoted rooter, and its severest critic. A onetime European dance-band leader, Teddy was mainly Newest Shangri-La-and among the most luxurious Las Hadas' alabaster villas meet dusk as the lights of Manzanillo wink across the bay. Each unit has a vista over the water. Winter rates begin at $52 a day. Cars are banned within the compound; guests ride electric carts.