Editor's Pick Hotels Mexico. Below, one writer shares his personal experience learning the sport of kings at one of Mexico's most luxurious hotels.
An hour north of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, where the Sierra de Vallejo mountains climb down to the Pacific Ocean and thick jungle crawls right up to white sand, a stretch of pristine Bermuda grass is clipped short in a neat acre patch. Guests of the hotel are invited to watch, as teams of three race and spar over a plastic ball the size of an orange. A match — under house rules, the highest score wins after four periods — is an exhilarating display of athleticism and elegance.
For those so intrigued by the spectacle, an hour-long lesson can help even the most zenned-out vacationer pick up the basics. In December, Dorado, a year-old kind soul, was my partner for an introductory outing. First, an outfit change helps set a mood.
In a small back room lined with Argentinian-made saddles, Manuel Rogelio, my instructor, hands over white jeans and a polo emblazoned with the Mandarina logo. Knee-high riding boots and a maroon, short-brimmed helmet complete the look, a tony prep school aesthetic that feels sepia-toned even cast in the mirror. With a history dating back to Persian classical era nobility, and its most recognizable players today in line for the British throne, an air of grandiosity hangs over the sport.
Indeed, there are few pastimes as inaccessible, with a 1,pound beast the main locker room requirement. But as Dorado and I amble back and forth up the field, dribbling the ball a few yards at a time, a sense of familiarity and comfort emerges. The stroke is a simple arc: With his right hand — all players use their right regardless of dominance — the rider swings his mallet back and brings it down like a pendulum. Good contact produces a crisp, satisfying cluck.
