(A post I never finished, or published.)
I just got back, last Sunday night, from a week in Mexico. Specifically Cabo San Lucas, on the very southern tip of Baja California. I have always found Mexico to be such a interesting, deeply fascinating, and beautiful place, and I have seen so little. I've traveled extensively thru Baja and have been to Cancun, a couple of border towns in Texas, but little elsewhere. Still, enough to get something of the flavor of the place. And as this was my first trip to Baja I was looking forward, as I always do, to seeing as much of the place as possible, learn about the culture and the history.
After a 4 hour direct flight from Seattle, Baby and I touched down in Cabo International airport, a flight that was thankfully drama free, as was the short journey thru Mexican customs. Its always a blessing when you can say your flight was uneventful; not only that SeaTac has finally wised up and does not require travelers to remove shoes for the body scans, a practice that was both counterproductive and stupid. Anyways, that all behind us, we landed in a cool afternoon of scattered clouds, warm temps and a cool breeze. A drive from the airport took us thru the desert countryside, which consists of saguaro cactus, mesquite trees, sagebrush, and scrub plants; its a desert, but a lovely one, especially coupled with the view of the local mountain range, hovering close by, all rocky and pointed peaks. The road brought us to the coast at San Jose del Cabo, a tourist town of modern hotels and shops much damaged by last September's hurricane; we noticed that the McDonalds was still gutted, one of the very few businesses that hasnt been rebuilt or started on a rebuild; there is a God and He does watch over Mexico.
Now the reason for this trip was the opportunity to repeat a trip taken by my family, without me, last year at this time, to the same resort. My family, all living in Sonoma County CA, with the exception of my brother in Brooklyn, are fans of the SF Giants (a story of such horrible apostasy and heresy that it will have to wait for another time, needless to say, Go Dodgers), and are friends with a local radio sports commentator Marty Lurie. Every year Marty likes to come to this resort, this time of the year, relax in the sun for a week and chat baseball with invited friends. So this was my year to join.
We arrived at our resort as the sun was setting, on a warm and lovely day. The resort, La Estancia, is fairly nondescript, low-key establishment that was still exclusive and built for the well-to-do, but still managed to pull off a understated, albeit immaculate, ambiance. There is a small army of staff attending to guests needs, the grounds are very well-kept, the suites are well appointed and do not have a anonymous cookie-cutter feel to them, the way too many hotel rooms do. It was a sublime pleasure to be able to walk on stone floors barefoot, and the thick adobe walls help keep the temperatures down. We had a package deal that included all meals (free booze!), so we were free to eat at any time the restaurants were open, the food was delicious, overall and my favorite cocktail was a Mezcal/watermelon juice concoction that I drank frequently and liberally. It would be a ridiculous understatement to say that staying in this resort was relaxing, lovely, and dreamlike, as its hard not to fall under a spell when you fall asleep and wake to the sound of the surf, when a half-mile away from your balcony is the rock arches that mark where the Sea of Cortes meets the Pacific Ocean.
That being said, to truly travel (in my book anyway) one has to deliberately step out of one's comfort zone and get to know your surroundings. For me this could mean walking thru the night market in Kowloon (1983), river kayaking the Rogue in Oregon (1998), biking thru the Irish countryside (2006), hitchhiking across the US (1990), wintercamping on the Gunflint Trail, upstate Minnesota (1993 and '94), and dancing along the banks of the Seine in Paris, under the moonlight (2013). All of which I have done, deliberately so, to create memories and experiences. My point being is that real travel begins when we step off the established tourist trails and push the boundaries. With this in mind Baby and I made a concentrated effort to absorb as much of the local flavor and fauna as possible. Wednesday was spent snorkeling and kayaking off a local beach cove, surrounded on two sides by rocky cliffs. The water was clear and warm, I had forgotten the simple and sublime pleasure of floating in the water, face down, mask below the waterline, watching schools of tropical fish swim around and below, nibbling my fingers in search of food. After a short break Baby and I kayaked out to the mouth of the cove and floated in the tide, with a clear view of the shoreline for miles in either direction. After making it back to shore the guide offered to take me on a short snorkel, to which I readily accepted. Paddling slowly towards some rocks, he turned in the water, ahead of me about 10 yards and started shouting words at me, words I was never able to make clear because at that exact instance I was stung on the arm and lips by a jellyfish. Imagine being punched and stabbed by knitting needles in the arm and you get some idea as to what it feels like. Despite having never been stung by jellyfish before, known locally as "badwater", I knew immediately what it was, yelled, tore my mask off and immediately swam towards shore. On the inside of my left forearm was three blue dots surrounded by angry red skin, my guide, also stung, suggested urinating on the bites, and if we had the beach to ourselves I would have immediately agreed, as urinating on poison bites is a known way of immediate treatment. The pain was shocking, there was no position of holding my arm that was comfortable and I was having radiating pain up my arm all the way into my chest. Once back at the hotel I was able to gain relief from a bag of ice and a piece of aloe vera, which grows everywhere in the region. Fortunately my lips were lightly stung and that pain quickly went away. To this day I still have healing skin on my arm from the sting, and this will not stop me from snorkeling in the future.
The next day Thursday we wanted to take a local bus to the town of Todos Santos, about 90 miles away up the Pacific coast. Unfortunately that day was also the start of the national holiday to celebrate the birth of the Virgin Mary so local buses were not running on normal schedule. We rented a van and piled my family, sans mother, brought a friend from the baseball group and drove up to Todos Santos. The countryside, again scrub desert all the way down to the sandy beaches, stretched open for miles to the mountains. We arrived in Todos Santos about noon and spent the next few hours shopping in the local shops. Its a much more quiet scene than Cabo San Lucas, yes there are tourist spots, including the Hotel California (billed as The hotel made famous by the Eagles), but overall it was much more relaxed, which suited me just fine. Arriving back in Cabo gave us time to relax, bathe, have a lovely dinner, watch the sun go down and then about 8pm Baby and I drove back into Cabo San Lucas to the local cathedral for the celebration of the birth of the Virgin. Arriving at the cathedral we encountered a very large crowd in a relaxed and celebratory mood. Hundreds were filling the pews of the church to receive blessings and give their thanks, hundreds more were outside watching dancers in native costumes, enjoying the street vendor food, watching the trapeze artists in native costume, and buying up religious icons. We seemed to be the only gringos in attendance and it was just about the most fun I had all week.
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