March 3, 2009 – From Todos Santos, Mexico
The bus
ride to Todos Santos took an hour and a half as expected, but the level
of
comfort in the bus was not up to typical first class bus standards in Mexico. There was a movie, a
Japanese
chick flick about geishas dubbed in Spanish, but most of the window
curtains
were drawn making sightseeing very difficult. My assigned seat - I was
chastised by the very authoritarian driver for sitting in a different
seat -
would not stay in the full, upright position, so I spent the trip
almost
horizontal. I would get occasional peeks at the Sonoran Desert through which we passed,
as well as
a fleeting glimpse of the very blue Pacific
Ocean, but the ride was not as
comfortable or as beautiful as I had envisioned. There is another bus
line that
runs from La Paz to San Jose del Cabo and
I was impressed with their equipment
as I passed their depot each day while walking to the internet center
in San Jose. They do not stop in Todos Santos,
however, so I couldn't take that bus company on the
trip here. I will most definitely take that bus line (Peninsula) on the trip back from La
Paz to San
Jose.
Hotel California is a
beautiful place. I took several pictures of the hotel
which I will send with the next batch of photos, but they wanted
$119/night for
a single. When I reacted negatively to the price, the owner, a Canadian
woman
who was working the front desk, said, "If you are looking for something
a
little cheaper, the hotel across the street has rooms for 400 pesos."
Now,
that is being responsive to a client's needs! She invited me to dine
later at
her hotel and I ran with her suggestion. The hotel across the street,
situated
above and around a laundry, had a room much nicer than that in which I
stayed
in San Jose, so I took the room for only 350 pesos,
around $25 at current exchange
rates. The Canadian must have quoted me the double rate.
Reception at the hotel was in the laundry and while I was there I
priced having
my laundry done. I won't find any more convenient laundry service,
that's for
certain. I dropped off my laundry bag, which was becoming increasingly
full, and
they promised that I would have it back in the morning. The price was a
little
more than $5.00, but if I would let them do the darks with the whites,
I could
have gotten it done for less than $3.00. I decided to splurge and have
the
darks done separately - big spender.
Wow, a firm bed, an air
conditioner on a timer, fully tiled floors throughout,
and four-channel TV reception, albeit all in Spanish. This is
luxurious. I had
lunch at the Hotel California, pretty full at 3:00 p.m. with tourists from many
lands. I
heard Italian and French spoken and people nearby spoke with a British
accent.
This hotel is an international icon; the Eagles really put it on the
map. The
food was good, too, but I ate a little heavy for lunch with shrimp and
scallop
tagliatelle in a Baja California chardonnay, dill sauce. It was very
good, but the special board neglected to mention that they would add
heavy
cream to the sauce, too. I forced myself to eat the rich dish, despite
my diet,
but I made a commitment to myself to forego dinner. I am dedicated to
this new,
self-designed diet which basically reduces the volume of food I
consume. After
lunch, I found a nearby internet center and checked email. It was
getting
really hot and my tee shirt sticky, so I decided to take an afternoon
nap in the air conditioning of my
room.
When I returned to the
Hotel California for dinner a little after 7:00 p.m., the place was very
dark, but I
wanted to try one of the famous margaritas, so I entered. Only candles
were lit
in the place and I thought it strange, only to find out that they had a
major
electrical problem on which were frantically working. The margarita
was,
absolutely, the worst margarita that I have had in Mexico. It was too strong and
too tart and
I was glad that I ordered it with rocks. I waited for the rocks to
weaken the
drink, which was not consumable without some global warming to dilute
it, and I
needed something to munch on while the melting process was taking
place. So
much for my dietary discipline, I ordered an appetizer - a small,
half-avocado
with scallops and octopus - to help make the drink palatable, although
I'm
certain the snack added a few calories. I left the Hotel bar around 8:30 and headed back to my room, with
full electricity, hot water, television, etc. The poor folks who paid
$119/night may not have had hot water this morning. Sometimes, one just
has to
have a little luck.
After breakfast this
morning at an almost-American, coffee shop around the
corner from my hotel, I wandered the beautiful, old, little town of Todos
Santos. The architecture is
different than
most towns that I have seen in the Baja, with old, brick structures
that give
the place a colonial air. A man from La
Paz, who was sitting at the
next table
at breakfast, told me that Todos Santos has much better restaurants
than La Paz; it even has an Italian
restaurant
rated the best restaurant in all of Mexico. I had decided that this
town was
too small to warrant an additional night, but hearing about the Santa
Fe
Restaurant has, quite naturally, changed my mind. I will dine there
tonight and
give you an evaluation manana. Hasta luego!
March 4, 2009
- From La Paz, Baja Sur, Mexico
I should have learned by now not to brag about having good luck.
Nothing will
change your luck quicker than talking about how good things have been
breaking
for you and that certainly was the case with me in Todos Santos
yesterday. I
know that you were expecting an evaluation of the best restaurant in
all of Mexico, Santa Fe, but that was not to be. I booked
another night at the clean little ¨motel¨ across the street
from Hotel
California, then decided to find the Santa Fe Restaurant, so that I
wouldn't
have to struggle finding it at dinner time. It was easy to find, but so
was the
sign on the door that said, "Closed Martes," and sure enough, it was
Tuesday. Not wanting to admit that my life is centered around food, I
decided
to eat in the consensus, second-best restaurant, "Los Adobes,"
and not stay
over another night to try the Santa Fe. "Los Adobes" was
beautiful, with
the most beautiful desert garden I think that I have ever seen, and the
ceviche (raw fish cooked in lime juice) was delicious, but I wasn't
really
hungry so I ate nothing else.
I have
another confession: I am tired of margaritas! I was never a big fan of
the drink, but the bad one at the Hotel California did the trick. I am
usually
a red wine drinker, but in the winter time I indulge in an occasional
Crown
Royal and water. I did see Crown Royal bottles in San Jose, but only
succumbed one time. It
just doesn’t feel right drinking Crown Royal when the temperature is 90
degrees. If I don't drink either of those drinks, I am pretty much an
“umbrella
drink” aficionado and last night I drank two, yes two, piña
coladas, although
they were served with a straw, so there was no umbrella. It was a great
relief
to not force a margarita.
That
is not all the bad luck, however. I had a great bus ride to La Paz,
where I had driven before on a
previous venture down the Baja, where I planned to find the small hotel
in
which I had stayed on my last visit to town. Bus seats were free
choice, not
assigned, for the 75-minute ride and I jumped in the front seat across
from the
driver to watch the Sonoran Desert pass by. There was an American
movie with Spanish subtitles playing on the TV overhead as I entered,
but I was
interested in the view. The seat locked upright, this bus was
air-conditioned,
and the ride went very smoothly. I even took a few photos of the
desert,
especially of the Spanish language road signs urging the use of seat
belts, cautioning
against throwing trash, and keeping the left lane (most of the ride was
on a
four-lane highway) for passing only. When driving in foreign countries,
it is
important to learn what the road signs say. I'll share some of those
photos
with you when I find a place to copy a disc for me. I seem to enjoy
trying to decipher the
message.
I
found the Malecon (seaside promenade) easily from the bus terminal and
headed
in the right direction toward my hotel. I wasn't at all confident that
it was
the right direction while I walked, however, but finally, after about
15-minutes of hiking with my backpack and pulling my suitcase, there it
was -
the street I remembered from before. The hotel was right where I
remembered it,
but quaint, it ain’t! The last time I stayed there I remembered how
quaint and
inexpensive the place was, with a TV in the common area and basic rooms
in
hallways deep in the bowels of the hotel, surrounding the inner
courtyard. At
$27/night, the place was still inexpensive, but nothing has been done
in
maintenance since I was here last and the place was barely tolerable
five years
ago. The desk clerk showed me a room for under $20, but I wouldn't have
stayed
there on a bet, what with mildew or mold much in evidence on one of the
walls.
The room he showed me for $27 had been renovated, which made it more
expensive.
Renovated??? Three walls have been painted with a gloss paint and there
is some
mildew on the other wall, probably explaining why they didn't paint it,
and it
is so dingy even I can't stay there for any length of time and that is
saying
something. I took the "renovated" room, however, so that I had a
place to keep my bags while I looked for other quarters. After stopping
in
three hotels, I found a place closer to the heart of the Malecon's
tourist area,
only a half-block from the beach, but it was more expensive. The room
has two
beds, a single and double, a balcony, and some decent lighting, all for
$30/night. OK, things did not happen exactly as planned, but I will
spend
tonight in the dingy room and move tomorrow to the new digs. The past
24-hours
weren't my most fortunate, but all things have worked out and La Paz is
as beautiful as I remembered. I
am now at the beach. I can stroll the Malecon for more than a mile,
gaze upon
the turquoise water, and watch the sailboats dance upon the waves. I
will call
this home for at least 10 days. Hasta luego!
March 6, 2009
- From La Paz, Baja Sur, Mexico
Mold
everywhere!! While I made it through the night in the dingy room I had
rented
to secure my backpack and suitcase while I searched for better
quarters, I
wouldn't want to sleep there again. The sheets were so thin and
threadbare that
I felt itchy all night, thinking how close my body was to those who had
slept
there before me. The morning shower was no better! I looked up as the
morning
light that came in the small ventilation window helped to brighten the
dark
bathroom, enabling me to see a cloud of black, ugly, growing mold on
the ceiling
above the shower. This was really gross. The water was hot, the
pressure and
flow of water great, but the huge, growing cloud of black mold
prevented me
from feeling clean, even after the shower. I couldn't get out of that
place
soon enough.
My new
room is much cleaner with no mold evident, well, only the tiniest of
dark specks on the ceiling of the shower, a place I will now check
before
renting any room anywhere. My room is on the fourth floor in a building
with no
elevator, so there is a built-in exercise program at work while I stay
here.
The sheets on the bed are wonderfully full and clean, there is a TV set
with
four Spanish channels, and life is good. It would be better if I had
some kind
of reading light to help while I am reading, but I brought a small,
book,
reading light that will get me through to slumber land most nights.
Huitlacoche. I said huitlacoche. No, the proper response is not
“Gesundheit!”
For those of you who watch the travel channel, you will recognize
huitlacoche
as the black mold that grows on corn here in Mexico, considered a
delicacy by top
chefs. I had risotto last night with octopus and huitlacoche, the first
time I
had seen the unusual ingredient on a menu. I thought that the octopus
dominated
the dish, so I can't really tell you exactly what huitlacoche tastes
like, but
it made the dish black, almost like my favorite foreign dish - squid or
octopus
in its ink. I'll continue to scan menus looking for another taste of
the stuff,
so I can more accurately describe its taste. Hang in there with me -
mold is
everywhere.
By the
way, before I forget, if you are planning a trip to Todos Santos, I do
not recommend staying in the Hotel California. I'm certain it is nice,
but
after exploring the town, I recommend The Todos Santos Inn with rooms
starting
at $165 and suites somewhat higher. I didn't stay there, because my
lengthy
stays prohibit expenditures that grand, but if you check their website,
www.todossantosinn.com,
you will see pictures of the small hotel, six rooms, I
think, which should convince you of the beauty of the place.
I have
two items on today's agenda - finding a bookstore and traveling by bus
to a famous beach 15 miles outside the city. I feel no pressure to
accomplish
both of those tasks, but they are my goals for today. This can be such
a
stressful existence. Hasta luego!
March
9, 2009 - From La Paz, Baja Sur, Mexico
Tecolote, a famous beach nine kilometers outside
of La Paz,
was my destination on Saturday. I quickly gave up the attempt to
accomplish two
goals in one day on Friday. This is Mexico,
for crying out loud. I finally found a bookstore after three different
attempts
to do so on Friday, but exhausted after walking several miles, I took
the rest
of the day off; that is Mexican style living. Saturday, I boarded a bus
at the
terminal only two blocks from my hotel, paid my 20 pesos ($1.50), sat
back,
relaxed, and watched the beautiful desert scenery with occasional
glimpses of
the delicate turquoise waters of the Sea of Cortez
roll by. The route took me first along the Malecon (beach promenade)
which
turned out to be more than three miles long, then through desert hills,
winding
along the coast until we passed the ferry terminal where I boarded the
baja
ferry a few years back for the 16 hour trip to Mazatlan.
It all looked familiar.
It took about 45 minutes to reach Tecolote,
the last stop on the route. The
water was stunningly beautiful and the beach two to three miles long.
Un-commercialized
except for two, small, palm-covered restaurants and an equally-coiffed
tour
center, the beach was primitive and breathtakingly gorgeous. The sun
was hot,
but there was a nice breeze that enticed me to remove my shirt to give
my torso
a few rays for the first time since I entered Mexico.
Twenty minutes on each side and I was done. I know about the intensity
of tropical
rays and I did not want to scald myself. I had a small lunch of salad,
grilled
octopus, guacamole, and tortillas, then strolled the beach, selecting
three
rocks to add to the collection I began on the Indian Ocean last winter. I also
succumbed to the vendors
walking among the few tourists and peddling jewelry and hand-carved
wood. My
purchases will make a delightful gift to somebody next Christmas;
beware.
Tecolote's tour center offers a tempting,
five-hour snorkeling trip to the
island a few miles off the coast. The $35 trip includes all the
equipment for
snorkeling, a shore lunch, and hopefully a ride back to the beach.
After my
problems with the fishing motor on my previous water experience, I have
grown a
tad cynical, I guess. I will try to tan my body a little more, and then
head
back to Tecolote to do some snorkeling. People have told me that the
snorkeling
is world class.
Three hours later, I returned on the next bus
back to town and prepared for my
evening dining experience. I walked about six blocks for dinner, alone
on unlit
streets with which I was unfamiliar, recognizing the danger that lurked
every
step of the way. I was frightened much of the trip, aware that each
step could
result in a catastrophe. Oh, I wasn't concerned about mugging, being
held up,
or kidnapped off the street; I was worried about the unlit, uneven
sidewalks,
and random curbing. The real threat was in breaking or spraining an
ankle.
There are steps in the middle of sidewalks, missing concrete sections,
curb
drop-offs that are as much as two feet high, and pot-holes everywhere.
Obviously, there are no building codes or zoning laws in Mexico;
that is the real danger. The trip was worth it, however, as I enjoyed
my first
Mexican steak at Bufalo, the consensus best restaurant in town. The
walk home
after two glasses of wine was just as routine.
I have two new friends in town: Hugo and
Rainbow. They don't know one another,
but are local characters that make each day a little more interesting.
Hugo
owns a fishing boat (he says) and wants to take me fishing. He also
explained
that he had a good trip last time out, catching three large
yellowtails,
several groupers, including one very large one, and a couple of red
snapper. I
negotiated with Hugo about the price and am down to about $135. I think
if I
wait a day or two longer, however, I can get a better price. Hugo
invited me to
lunch yesterday, which I thought nice until I realized that I was
picking up
the check. What a con artist. He spent 25 years in San
Diego, working on a charter
fishing boat, so his English is pretty good.
My other new friend is Rainbow Hawk, a fixture
in Mexico
for the past fifty years. He was a singer, having sung with Joan Baez,
Janis
Joplin (whom he reveres), and the Neville Brothers. Rainbow is part
Seneca
Indian and he spends his days behind his laptop, organizing a worldwide
celebration marking the end of an era on the Mayan calendar. Rainbow is
of the
flower-child era, still working hard to achieve world peace. He is
bright,
writes well, and is a delight to engage in conversation.
Over the weekend, I found a Farmacia that
burned a disc for me, putting my
photos in a format that I can forward. I will do so after I finish this
update
and include photos of Hugo and Rainbow. Look for them in a couple of
days after
my webmaster edits, resizes, and whatever else she does to create the
slideshows. Stay tuned. Hasta luego!
March
11, 2009 - From La Paz, Baja Sur, Mexico
Believe it
or not, it rained yesterday morning. Only for a few minutes and just a
drizzle,
it was just enough to wet the street. This was the first rain I have
seen in
the Baja since my arrival in mid-February. The sun came back out
shortly after
the sprinkle, so I guess the rain is over for another long spell in the
desert.
After the rain, I sat with Hugo in the sunshine on a Malecon bench and
took off
my shirt for a couple minutes. His friend, Pablo, age 72, also sat on
the bench
and we had a nice chat, mostly about pretty girls. I noticed that Pablo
had a
shattered lens in his glasses and asked why he didn't have them
repaired. He
said that they want 300 pesos ($20) to put a new lens in and he didn't
have the
money. Having worn glasses all my life, until January when cataract
surgery
corrected my vision, I really identified with what Pablo has to
tolerate every
day with a shattered lens. I told him that I would go with him after
lunch and
buy him a lens. It was only $20 and I would get to see the immediate
effect of
my donation, unlike many other donations one makes these days. It made
me feel
good to offer, which wasn't really a surprise. I can't fix the world,
but maybe
I can help a few folks along the way.
After lunch, Pablo and I
headed toward the center of La
Paz, into an area I hadn't
visited
before. It was a very interesting, though painstakingly slow walk.
Pablo has
trouble with his legs and knees, so we strolled six or eight blocks to
a little
optical shop with no sidewalk, where Pablo said he had a friend who
owned the
place. It was a dark, tiny shop, but the man seemed to have all the
equipment
and expertise to get the job done. He took two pairs of glasses that
Pablo
owned and cut a left and right lens from them to fit a new frame, which
he
determined to be what Pablo really needed. He even treated the lenses,
which
darkened in the sunlight, so that they were both the same color. I have
never
seen that done before. Pablo looked great and could see clearly again.
The
labor for cutting the lenses, tinting them, fitting them into the new
frames,
and the new frames themselves cost me $20. Try to get new frames for
$20 in the USA.
On the
way back to the Malecon, Pablo took me to a market where we strolled
the
aisles looking at the fresh meats, poultry, fish, fruits, and
vegetables. I
will return there today to take a few photos, especially of the pigs
heads so
proudly displayed in the meat cases.
I had lunch at Carlos and
Charlie's, my first visit to this establishment made
famous in Cancun, and met a couple of
school
teachers, Sue and Mike, on vacation from Tacoma, Washington. They taught four years
in Nigeria and have visited
extensively in Africa, so we compared
observations about
African affairs. We had a short, but enjoyable conversation, since they
were
headed back to San Jose and wanted to make it through the
desert before dark. I encouraged them to take the short trip to
Tecolote before
they left and they headed that way. Here's hoping I didn't lead them
astray and
they made it back before nightfall.
Last night, I had dinner
in a delightful restaurant and talked with Nancy, a
former teacher and court reporter from Tucson, Arizona, who was sitting alone
at the next
table. She is the advance guard of her family, having made a long bus
ride to
observe whales along the Baja coast before her brother and his family
arrive
tomorrow. But this very petite, retired lady was traveling by herself
in Mexico. She had walked 10 or 12
blocks
after dark to the restaurant where we dined, which took a little
courage on her
first visit to La Paz.
La
Paz and the southern Baja
are remarkably safe. Rainbow, a long time
resident, told me that the newspaper recently had a front page story
about some
youngsters who were arrested after they stole 14 concrete blocks. There
is so
little crime in La Paz that a crime of that
nature made
the front page. That said, I still take my usual precautions while
traveling
alone. Incidentally, had I not been alone I would probably not have
talked to
Mike, Sue, or Nancy. One of the positive things about traveling alone
is that
you reach out to make contact with other travelers and local folks. I
must go
to see what interesting people I will meet today. Adios!
March 12, 2009
- From La Paz, Baja Sur, Mexico
CLOSED: GONE FISHING IN THE SEA OF CORTEZ!
Tune in tomorrow for the
results.
March
13, 2009 - From La Paz, Baja Sur, Mexico
Officially we weren't shut out on the fishing
trip, if one wants to count the 30 eight-inch-long mackerel that we
pulled
onboard. Once, I reeled in a mackerel on each of the seven shad-dart
type lures
(no bait) attached to the line on our single rod. Surprise, almost
nothing was
as Hugo said it would be on the trip he offered me at the much
discounted rate
of $65. He told me that I would accompany a German couple who were
going snorkeling
and that while they were snorkeling he and I would get away for three
hours of
fishing.
Hugo owns no boat! He knows somebody with a
boat, though, and when Hugo can get
a commitment to charter said boat, the boat shows up and, no doubt,
Hugo gets a
commission. Hugo did not accompany us on the trip, merely waving adios
from the
beach as we departed at 10:15 a.m. I should have known by
the time of departure
that few fish would be caught, since fishermen left at 6:30 a.m. in San
Jose.
We apparently left at that time because the German woman sleeps late,
according
to her husband. They were delightful boat mates, but they were
interested in a
boat ride, nothing more. They arrived with long-sleeved, white shirts,
apparently to protect against the harsh rays of the sun and, obviously,
had no
interest in snorkeling or fishing. They were into the new adventure,
however,
and I learned that Alexander was a best-selling novelist in Germany,
looking to purchase a home here because his next seven-book series will
be
based in La Paz. I
asked him what he wrote about and he answered, "Sex and Crime, that's
what
the market wants." There went any idea about a best-selling, travel
adventure that I had in mind, unless I am willing to create some
fictional sex
experiences in the foreign lands where I have traveled.
The trip was worth every penny of the $65. We
rode along the shore about 45
minutes, looking for a place where Alexander might shoot a film (he has
written
two screen plays and shot two feature films), and entered a bay called
Maralanda, which has a unique rock, shaped like a mushroom. I got a
photo. As
we left the bay, we saw and were surrounded by a huge number of
dolphins, many
swimming directly under our 26 foot panga (boat). There may have been
as many
as 100 dolphins in the pod and we were all delighted with the up-close
experience and photos we took of these intelligent creatures.
Later, on the way home after only about 40
minutes of unsuccessful attempts to
catch sardinas for bait on the shad-dart lures, we spotted several sea
lions
surfacing near our boat. Jaime, the young captain, stopped the boat and
dropped
the line with the seven shad-dart lures. He hooked four mackerel, only
good for
marlin bait and not for eating. He then handed me the rod and told me
to fish.
I hooked seven mackerel on the first attempt, then six more on each of
the next
two tries. I then dropped the line, hooked some more, and handed the
rod to
Alexander. He had never caught a fish in his life and in his first
attempt
reeled in five small mackerel. He seemed genuinely thrilled. I asked
Jaime to
do the same for Petra,
Alexander's wife, and she reeled in six more. They weren't really
keepers, but
the couple had such a good time catching the fish, seeing the dolphin,
and the
feeding sea lions that it made my trip. I wasn't disappointed in the
least with
the absence of game fish. Like Alexander said, "I wasn't expecting
much, but
this was a great day!" Hasta luego!
For those of you who think me crazy for my
winters of traveling the world alone during the past eleven years, let
me
introduce you to Crazy Larry. Larry, a former Safeway check-out clerk,
retired
at age 52 four years ago, after 36 years with the company. Once married
for six
months at a young age, Larry is a confirmed bachelor, living in
northern California in
the coastal range of mountains. His beloved, small, mountain home,
completely
debt-free after years of frugality is full of his collections of
foreign coins
and baseball hats, but is drenched in rain, fog, and occasionally snow
during
the late fall and winter months. So, Larry travels! Boy, does he
travel. For
six months during each of the last four years, Larry is on the road
much like
yours truly, but for twice as long. Larry maintains that he lives just
barely
above poverty level at home, but manages to save enough money to travel
frugally during the winter. His favorite mode of transportation through
South and Central America,
where his dollar buys more, is by bus. He has traveled in Peru, Chile, Columbia, Ecuador,
and almost all of Central America,
but he has spent this winter traveling exclusively in Mexico.
He loves the place as much as I do.
I met Larry at the computer center and ran
into him again when he was talking
to Rainbow, our mutual friend. Larry has rented an apartment in La
Paz and is paying $20/day
for
lodging. Because he has kitchen facilities, he eats most of his meals
at home,
but is a social animal and enjoys conversations over happy hour drinks.
Larry
knows every restaurant/bar in town that has two-for-one Happy Hours and
he
makes the circuit nightly, consuming generous quantities of local
cerveza. I
have accompanied him for the past three nights and both of us were able
to
extend our waking hours because of the companionship. I can't keep up
with the
beverage intake, and I don't try, but we parted company at 11:00 p.m. on
Friday and broke my personal record by staying up until 1:00 a.m. on Saturday,
watching the locals dance and enjoy themselves. Larry selected one bar
that had
at least 50 motorcycles parked in front. The music was loud enough that
my
sternum was throbbing rhythmically with the thump of the sub-woofers
and the
bar was packed with leather-clad members of a local motorcycle club. If
problems broke out, we were seated between two groups of motorcyclists,
so I
convinced Larry to quickly consume his two-for-one Dos Equus and we
exited the
place. Later, Rainbow told us that the local motorcycle club is
harmless and
several policemen ride with the group. My ears and sternum were most
appreciative of the quick departure from that unbelievably-noisy club
and we
moved on to another nightclub, this one full of dancing locals. Larry
was asked
to remove his baseball hat at the door, so we thought that this was
really a
classy place, especially since it was located in the expensive hotel
around the
corner from my economy quarters. We were surprised to see at least six
male
dancers on the floor wearing cowboy hats. Apparently, cowboy hats are
acceptable
attire, but Larry's wearing of a baseball hat was a faux pas. Larry and
I were
coerced into dancing by one eager, mujere begging for a dance partner
because
the fast, live, Latin music kept her from sitting still. She originally
asked
me to dance, but I convinced her that Larry loved to dance and would be
delighted to "cut a rug" with her. Larry speaks as much Spanish as I
do, but the loud music effectively rendered him deaf to my comments
about him
and he reluctantly ended up on the crowded dance floor, mouthing
obscenities at
me as he danced. He is as enthusiastic about dancing as I am. Later, I
succumbed and danced one dance with the same lady. My dance with Norma,
that 50
year-old bundle of dance energy, seemed to last forever, but finally
ended at 1:00 a.m. The excitement sent
me packing for the safety and quiet of my hotel room. As I left, Larry
showed
no indication of the drowsiness which had taken over my every thought,
so I
danced solo across the dance floor, out the nightclub, and around the
corner to
my hotel. I was beat!
Larry reported the next day that he got home
at 2:00 a.m. after having danced
a couple more times with Norma, unable to fend off her enthusiasm.
Sunday, I
helped Rainbow celebrate his 64th birthday by buying him breakfast. He
is
completely dependent on the largesse of others, but seems completely
happy with
his existence. Feliz Cumpleaños, Rainbow. Hasta luego!
March
18, 2009 - From La Paz, Baja Sur, Mexico
Menudo! Larry accompanied me to the market on
Monday. He was shopping for groceries, since he cooks most of his own
meals in
his apartment, and I was there to take some photos. I hope to send the
next
batch of photos sometime today, so they should appear tomorrow if all
goes
well.
Menudo is a delicious soup made of tripe (beef
stomach lining) and hominy in a
light tomato broth. Larry put me on to this soup at one of the small
kitchens
set up beside the market. They serve white menudo and red menudo, but
Larry
likes the red, although he has never tried the white. We ordered the
soup, then
added chopped, fresh cilantro, chopped onions, chili peppers, and salsa
on our own
from the condiment tray placed on our table. The soup, a hearty entire
meal
with the accompanying tortillas, was $2.00. Larry has been eating
menudo often
during his six-month trek around Mexico
and, if that bowl was any indication, I will start doing the same. I
wonder if
I can buy beef tripe at the market at home to try to replicate that
delicious
concoction?
La Paz is
a sailing destination. There are several marinas located in and around La
Paz and many sailors from
the
west coast, from both the USA
and Canada,
make the trip down the Baja and around the corner into the Sea of Cortez to La
Paz. I
have had several interesting conversations with sailors who have made
the trip.
The most significant was the sailor who has made a solo
circumnavigation of the
globe. He is having the bottom of his sailboat painted here in La
Paz before heading on
another
adventure, across the Pacific to the Marquesa Islands of French
Polynesia.
He is looking for a crew member to share the night watch
responsibilities. When
I intimated that that was the kind of thing in which I might be
interested some
day, he informed me that with him onboard there was already enough
testosterone. He is looking for a female crew member and thinks he has
located
a Mexican lass who might be interested. He informed me about a website,
www.findacrew.com,
where
captains and potential crew members make contact. I wasn't planning on
continuing these adventures, but sailing around the Caribbean Islands or
to the Brazilian or Argentinean coasts could tempt me next
winter. Hasta luego!
March
20, 2009 - From La Paz, Baja Sur, Mexico
I always say that traveling alone makes you
reach out to locals and other travelers, but sometimes, the other
travelers
just reach out to you. That is what happened yesterday when I went to
lunch at
the great, local, seafood place I discovered across the street from the
Malecon
and the beach. I took an outside table, ordered a drink, and ordered
from the
extensive menu after struggling with the many options. For what I
thought would
be an interesting appetizer, I settled on steamed, chocolate clams,
although
the waiter urged me to eat them "pura" (raw). Having experienced the
wonderful cramps and trips to the baño that often accompany raw
seafood in
third world countries, I told him that, "no, I want them cooked." The
descriptive name comes from the brown, chocolate-like, color of the
clam's
shell. The three that I was served were large, wrapped in aluminum
foil, and
stuffed with chopped clam, tomato, onion, a little bacon, and cilantro.
They
were scrumptious! They were also all that I would have needed for
lunch, but
no, I had also ordered a fish filet stuffed with shrimp. The stuffing
included
several small shrimp and chopped lettuce, purple cabbage, onions,
tomatoes,
cilantro, and melted cheese. It was even better than the chocolate
clams, but
was a huge portion. I forced the entire meal, but felt bad later from
the
volume of food and didn't eat again the rest of the day. I will
definitely try
to replicate that meal at home, however.
The traveler who reached out to me, Lloyd from
San Francisco, came to my table
right before the clams and asked if he could sit, even though there
were other
empty tables. Of course, I said yes, and that may have been the last
word I
uttered. Lloyd, a retired realtor, wanted to talk. He is almost 84
years old,
has been divorced twice, and has traveled extensively. After his second
divorce, he and a buddy traveled to Europe
where he bought a Mercedes and they toured the continent in the company
of two
German frauleins they had met on the flight. He was not at all crushed
by the
divorce, happy to be rid of someone he "absolutely hated." Lloyd has
given apartment buildings to each of his two daughters, but retained
one that
brings him $22,000/month, "enough to live on," he said. I imagine
that many of us might be able to scrape by on a monthly income like
that.
Lloyd had driven down to Tijuana in
his new Toyota
station wagon. The beautiful, white wagon had a model name, which I
don't
remember offhand. In Tijuana,
he met his longtime Mexican friend who had gone north by bus to shop in
the
dangerous, border city and to drive Lloyd to La Paz, where he owns what
I'm
certain is a gorgeous condominium. Lloyd has been coming to La
Paz for 13 years. As I looked
at his car on our way out of the restaurant, Lloyd informed me that he
had just
broken up with his Mexican girlfriend who was (ready?) 33 years-old.
I'll bet
that she was just devastated, losing the love of her life, only fifty
years her
senior. Ah, I meet the most interesting people when I travel.
Adios!
March
23, 2009 - From La Paz, Baja Sur, Mexico
Sunday, I marched in a parade! In La
Paz there are many parades,
three over the last few days, one with all the new emergency equipment,
including fire engines, that the government has recently provided -
reason
enough for a parade with new sirens blaring. As I finished my emails in
the
coffee shop, where a cup of coffee (iced, for me in this heat) gets you
free,
unlimited time on the computer as long as nobody is waiting to use it,
I heard loud
music outside as a speaker truck went by, leading the parade. I went to
watch
the show and a large crowd, at least three or four blocks long, were
marching
to "Alto Tuberculosis en la Baja." I wasn't aware that tuberculosis
was a problem here, but plenty of people, many of them children,
marched to
fight the disease. I finished my coffee, and then started walking on
the
sidewalk while the marchers walked and waved. I waved back, and then a
woman in
the parade waved, inviting me to join the march. Why not? I fell in
beside her and the crowd, mostly women and children, oohed, and aahed,
teasing
her about her new gringo friend. She was talking to me, as was the
woman next
to her, but I wasn't sure what they were saying. I think it had
something to do
with being tall, white, and handsome, but that may have been wishful
thinking.
The woman was about 50 years of age, but looked 70 and had a mouthful
of nasty
teeth that orthodontists back home dream about, although a couple of
gold
crowns shone brightly in her smile. I put my arm around her and the
crowd went
crazy, more whistles and teasing remarks. Her adjacent friend
encouraged me to
loop my arm and the woman slid her arm through mine - more teasing and
whistling. We were all having a great time. I only marched a block and
a half,
but the parade stopped a few times during that time and I got to wave
and tease
further. I left them with a wave and they cheered my participation.
Carpe diem.
I spent the weekend accompanying Crazy Larry
on bar crawls through parts of La
Paz, even dining in a great
steakhouse at Larry's behest on Saturday night. Despite his frugality,
he gets
a yearning for a good steak on occasion. We shared a bottle of wine,
the first
time I had seen him consume anything but Pacifico or Dos Equus, the two
best
Mexican beers according to Larry, a guy who should know. Sunday night
found us
at one of Larry's regular haunts where the Happy Hour beers are two for
the
price of one and where live music makes the evening sitting outside by
the sea
delightful. Part way through the evening, listening to the band that
was
absolutely awful - a garage band freed from its confines and performing
publicly for what appeared to be the first time, Larry decided that the
guitarist's guitar wasn't tuned properly. Larry doesn't read music, but
has a
lot of fun with instruments that he also collects in his eclectically
decorated
house, so he decided to tune the guitar, saying to me, "I can tune any
guitar in five
minutes." As he returned from the restroom on a beer disbursement
sojourn,
Larry stopped beside the band and talked to the guitarist/lead singer.
Unbelievably, the guitarist handed Larry his electric guitar and Larry
sat to
"tune" it. Twenty minutes later, with the other two band members
looking to me for help, Larry was still bent over attempting to tune
the
guitar. I was mortified and the rest of the customers getting very
anxious. I
yelled at him, attempting to dissuade him from continuing, but Larry
persisted.
Finally, after I had hurriedly paid my bill and taken a seat on a bench
at the
Malecon, so I wouldn't be identified with this gringo, Larry had
completed his
task and handed the guitar back. The music could continue.
The
first thing the guitarist did when he got the guitar back was to retune
it,
but he gave up and picked up his back-up guitar. A couple of songs
later, he
picked up Larry's guitar, retuned it again, and started to play,
apparently
satisfied that he had gotten it back in playing condition. With this
band, the
tuning was unimportant, they were that bad, but I was sufficiently
embarrassed
that the gringos had stopped the music that I waved goodbye to Larry
and the
waitress and ambled the three blocks home. I haven't seen Larry today,
but I
can hardly wait to hear his version of the scene that I witnessed. I
don't call
him Crazy Larry for nothing. Hasta luego!
March
25, 2009 - From La Paz, Baja Sur, Mexico
Jorge, who was busing tables at the Bismark seafood
restaurant the other night while I dined, had a story that is all too
common
among working Mexican folks. His parents emigrated to the Seattle
area when Jorge was five years-old. Jorge attended school in Seattle
and, if his mastery of the English language is any indication, was a
pretty
good student. He was working diligently as a carpet installer, which is
hard
work, when one day his company was "raided" by the folks at
Immigration Control. Jorge had no papers, although the rest of his
family did,
and he was deported to Mexico,
where he had little contact since his early childhood years. Jorge is a
handsome, young man with an engaging smile, and he is trying to make
the best
of a bad situation, with his family (father, mother, and siblings) far
away. He
had just landed the part-time job at the seafood restaurant and I
watched him
working hard during my meal. His family was originally from Guadalajara and
that is where he landed, but there is little work in Guadalajara so
he came to the Baja. There seems to be a migration of mainland folks to
the
Baja where tourism has provided the most recent job opportunities. I
feel bad
for Jorge and have heard similar stories several times prior to this. I
know
that we need to control our borders and limit immigration, but we must
find a
fairer way to do that and to keep hard-working, law-abiding, families
together.
Surely, our politicians can come up with something, but maybe I'm too
optimistic.
I am in the final week of this year's
adventure and making plans to have my
laundry done one last time before packing for the flight home. The
process
involves throwing or giving away old clothes (Crazy Larry is already
the
recipient of two of my favorite, but shrinking Hawaiian shirts). I need
to pack
souvenirs and supplies one final time before next Tuesday's departure
on
Continental Air to Houston.
On Saturday, I will check out from the hotel in La
Paz (the Hotel Plaza Real)
that has been my home for the past four weeks or so and head back to
San Jose
del Cabo. I plan to bus through the desert to Los Barrilles, which has
a great
reputation among locals as a beautiful, beach town on the Sea of Cortez,
then on to San Jose. I
do not plan to overnight in Los Barrilles; I'm just taking the long way
to San Jose to see a different part
of
the lower Baja. I imagine that I will update two more times
before
signing off for the year. Stay tuned for the final chapters.
Hasta luego!
March
27, 2009 - From La Paz, Baja Sur, Mexico
As we speak, my laundry is being done for the
final time before heading home. That means that this afternoon will be
spent
packing my suitcase for the trip, keeping travel clothes accessible
while
allowing for a couple of days in San Jose del Cabo. It is not an easy
exercise
and requires some pretty sophisticated planning. Since I have
absolutely
nothing else to do the rest of the day, I am probably up to the
task.
Yesterday, I had even fewer responsibilities,
so I got into a couple of
wonderful philosophical/political discussions with Rainbow Hawk and
Fred, a
Canadian phone company retiree who has lived in La
Paz for 16 years. Fred lost
his 38 foot sailboat in a hurricane last November and also lost
his desire
to sail again. Fred is pretty fluent in Spanish and works diligently to
get
even better, maintaining a word list to commit to memory - very
impressive.
Fred is an avid reader of Latin American periodicals, watches BBC news,
listens
to shortwave radio broadcasts of Canadian news, and is really up on
current
events. Rainbow spends his days reading news on the internet from indymedia.org
-
independent,
relatively unverifiable reports from around the world. Both Rainbow,
the hippy
who has seldom worked in his life, and Fred think very highly of Hugo
Chavez
and Fidel Castro and defied me to name one bad thing about either of
them.
Fidel has apparently just been given South
Africa’s highest honor. I
mentioned Chavez’ tendency to want a lifetime presidency in
Venezuela, his
rude, undiplomatic attack on President Bush in the United Nations, and
his
recent diatribe against President Obama. They, of course,
defended him and
claimed to like a guy who "tells it like it is." Perhaps, it is good
these guys are expatriates. They did make quite a few good points about
Chavez’
work on education in Venezuela
and infrastructure improvements that help the everyday life of the poor
in his
country. They claim that the United
States media is controlled
by the government and that the CIA is more terroristic than most of the
terrorists we are fighting. They contend that without the embargo
imposed by
the USA, Cuba
would be successful, too. These expats are not communists, but believe
the US
government is misleading the American people about what is happening in
Latin America. The Bush/Cheney
administration has done our world-wide
reputation no good with their approval of torture and the long term
imprisonment of prisoners at Guantanamo.
It was an interesting afternoon despite the fact that I am not as
conversant
about international affairs as I once was. I knew enough, however, to
keep them
stimulated and to make the conversation invigorating, sometimes even a
little
hostile. I’m sure they will be back for more today.
Last night, Crazy Larry and I went to dinner
and stopped in a relatively new
restaurant, not the one we intended. We selected the place solely
because of
Fabiana, the beautiful, 22 year old waitress who greeted us as we
passed. We
were the only customers in the place, so we got Fabiana’s undivided
attention.
We were both enthralled with the young lady. It was a fusion restaurant
and our
dinners were excellent. They had no bar, so the chef ran to
the grocery
store and bought a bottle of wine for me and a Dos Equus cerveza for
Larry. The
price was just what it would have cost at the store, so the drinks were
very
reasonable, the bottle even cheaper than two glasses of wine I had
consumed the
night before. I drank my couple of glasses of wine and carried the
remainder back to the restaurant beside my hotel where we sit daily for
our
discussions. They brought me a glass for my wine, even though the
restaurant sells wine, and made no fuss at all about me carrying
in my own
beverage. I only drank half a glass and gave the rest to the waiter who
was
most appreciative. We have become very good friends with the wait staff
at the
restaurant and are constantly teasing one another in Spanglish, a
combination
of both languages. It is the kind of relationship that one only
develops when
one stays in a location for a long time. The relationship both
Larry and I
enjoy with the staff at this restaurant is not one that can be
developed
in a week.
Apparently remembering my trip to Rio de
Janeiro, a reader has written me
wondering why so many of my photos are men, going so far as to accuse
me of a
tilt in my sexual preferences - tongue in cheek, I hope. Such
is not
the case, but I don’t really tally the gender of my
photo
subjects. Today, however, I will send the last of my photos from
the Baja.
Suffice it to say, there will be no question about my sexual preference
after
these photos. I spent last evening taking photos of every willing
female,
including the lovely Fabiana. Hasta luego!
The Tropic
of Cancer. That was the answer to many a geography question I posed on
tests
for my students quite a few years ago and yesterday my bus crossed that
imaginary line of latitude in the mountains of the great Sonoran Desert
on the
Baja south of La Paz. It was a scenic and restful three-hour trip from La
Paz through the beautiful,
seaside village of Los Barrilles to San Jose del Cabo. At first, I
wasn't sure about the driver, who had a bothersome facial tic that had
me
concerned about his driving ability and, on occasion, whether he was
awake or
not. However, he drove very safely and the cracked windshield didn't
seem to
bother him. Since I sat in the front seat directly across from him and
since my
portion of windshield was cracked even worse, I'm certain that my
photos will
have a diagonal, northwest to southeast line distorting the images.
For much of the way the
two-lane road wasn't bad, but when the road sign warned
"carretera sinuoso" (winding road), it was an accurate description of
the road ahead. We crossed relatively high mountains, although there
were many
higher ones nearby, on the switchback ribbon of highway with numerous
signs
warning of "curva peligrosa" (dangerous curve). But, the driver
handled the curves safely and, despite the fact that I am a nervous
rider in
such situations, I only leaned into turns on a couple of occasions. I
can't
imagine living in the desert with so much brown and so little other
color,
except for the pockets of greenery in the valleys where there is enough
water
to sustain palm trees and other green vegetation, but the desert has
its own
beauty. Great saguaro cactuses dotted the dry landscape and dry creek
beds that
carry off the occasional showers were much in evidence. It was an
interesting
ride. Roadwork was being done for about five miles just north of San
Jose
and we exited the highway, which
had a three-foot drop-off for the last couple of kilometers, and rode a
desert
hardpan, two-lane path for that distance and I was surprised at the
smoothness
of the ride and how little dust was kicked up. Perhaps, they sprinkled
the dry
roadbed to prevent dust clouds.
If you are looking for an
isolated beach vacation, try Los Barriles (I have
seen it spelled with both one "L" and two). About two hours south of La
Paz,
the small community thrives on its
beautiful beach and fishing economy. There are, literally, miles of
almost-uninhabited, beautiful, white-sand beaches to explore and the
water
looks invitingly blue and turquoise, at least at 50 miles per hour from
the bus
window. Because it is located on the Sea of Cortez, the water should be
much
warmer than the waters of the Pacific in Los Cabos which tourists have
told me
is too cold to endure for long.
The
Yuca Inn was full, so my friend, Yuca, had obtained a room for me at
Señor
Mañana, a small hotel two doors away that Yuca sold off a few
years back. The
bigger hotel was too much work for him. Yuca informed me one Sunday
that he had
to get up off his hammock two times that day, a far too busy day. He
lies in
his hammock behind the small registration desk adjacent to his bedroom,
watching television, and only arises when duty calls or Lola, his
British
bulldog, needs a walk. Yuca is down to three rooms rented on a daily
basis and
three rented monthly to locals and all were full last night. That is
work
enough for Yuca and, surprisingly, I understand. I leave for home
tomorrow and
haven't negotiated a price for the room in which I slept last night,
but these
things take time. I'm certain that Señor Mañana's rooms
will be under
$30/night, which means that in the six weeks that I have been here, I
have only
paid more than $32 for one night's lodging - my first night on the Baja
when I arrived after dark.
It has been a very
successful and restful trip! I have enjoyed great weather,
one day of sensational fishing experiences, another boat ride with
German
author Alexander Ziebell and his wife, Petra, and great days and
evenings in La Paz with Crazy Larry, Rainbow Hawk, and
Fred, whose last name I never learned. I would vacation here again, as
many
people do annually, but there is so much of the world to see.
I will be traveling with
my family to Spain and Portugal in May, but will provide no
play-by-play blog to describe my experience, so that I can fully enjoy
my time
with children and grandchildren. So, since this is my last update for
the year,
I should provide my typical reflections on my yearly adventure. Here is
what I
found significant about the southern Baja:
1. The
place may be as safe an international travel destination
as one can find, especially in San Jose del Cabo and La
Paz. Like Key
West, there is no place for
criminals to
run. One highway into and out of town probably discourages crime, but
the
southern Baja is a very, very safe destination.
2. The people of the southern Baja are amazingly
friendly!!!
There is always a sincere "Buenos dias" or "Buenas tardes"
to greet each passerby and they will go overboard to help you when lost
or when
attempting to read a menu. The Mexicans may be as friendly as the Irish
people
and that is saying something!!
3. The fishing off the Pacific coast is fabulous,
although there
are some seasons where it is better than others. Marlin, tuna, dorado,
mackerel,
grouper, and other game fish abound. It is as good a fishing location
as I have
seen in my trips around the world.
4. The drinking water is much safer than in years past. I
did not
get traveler's diarrhea, to which I am particularly susceptible, during
the
entire six weeks of my stay. I would still recommend brushing one's
teeth (as I
did the entire time) and drinking water only from a bottle of purified
water,
but the water purification processes have been vastly improved in
restaurants
and even by street vendors. I occasionally ask a street vendor if the
lettuce
has been washed in "agua purificada," but the answer has always been
"yes" and I have not been adversely affected by an inaccurate
response. I believe that the government has done a great job in
educating the
public about the importance of purified water for tourists. Almost all
restaurants and most homes have a black, reverse osmosis, water
purification
tank on the roof.
5. Taste the sauces (salsas) before applying liberally to
your
food. There have only been a few times when the top of my head has
exploded and
my eyes watered from the "salsa picante," but it is always better to
taste the sauce first. The green sauces seem milder than the red and
all seem
to have been less spicy than in years past. Maybe, it was a bad year
for
growing spicy chiles.
6. There
are many beautiful young ladies in Mexico,
perhaps some of the most attractive in the world. Admittedly, some of
the men
are handsome, too, but Larry and I weren't at all interested in
checking out
the men. And check we did, as we sat in the El Callejon Restaurant on
the busy
plaza/alleyway off the Malecon in La Paz. Each of us would call
attention to the other when we spotted a beautiful young lady. I know,
female
readers, it is disgusting, but I believe in honest reporting here and
that is
the ugly truth. We loved watching the girls! Mexico is
inhabited by people who are descendents of the Mayans, people whose
bloodline
comes from Africa -
especially along the Caribbean,
and people descended from the very white Spanish conquistadors who
invaded many
years ago. The result is a delicious mix of folks that Larry, Rainbow,
Fred,
and I enjoyed on a daily basis in La Paz. You didn't think for a
minute that we only talked philosophy and politics all day every day,
did you?
What, you might ask, have I missed most about
home? Or, what will I enjoy most
when I return mañana? Here is a partial list:
1. Of course, I miss my wife and family. It is getting
increasingly difficult to depart for six weeks or twelve, depending on
the
trip. This year's trip was made much more bearable by (it is difficult
to admit
this) the company of Larry, Rainbow, and Fred during the time when I
might most
have gotten a little homesick.
2. I look forward to sewer systems that accept and can
treat
toilet paper. Six weeks is long enough to wipe, fold, and discard
soiled tissue
in the assigned trash receptacle next to the commode.
3. A decent bed. In the inexpensive hotels in which I
stay, beds
are not of the finest quality, some mattresses (like the one last
night) I am
certain are stuffed with horsehair or some other such prickly substance
and
none have inner-spring mattresses. I can hardly wait to crawl into my
king-sized bed with the pillow-topped mattress at home.
4. Mobility. I look forward to having wheels again.
Although I
didn't really miss the car in La
Paz very often, I would have
seen far
more of the southern Baja had I possessed the mobility one's own car
provides.
5. American food. I never, repeat NEVER, eat fast food at
home,
but I do miss the variety of food available at home. Mexican food is
very good,
but I have had enough tacos, burritos, huevos rancheros, and tortillas
to last
a long while. I doubt that I will visit a Mexican restaurant in the
foreseeable
future.
I hope that you have enjoyed traveling
vicariously with me on this sojourn to Key
West, then down the Baja. I appreciate
the occasional emails, your persistence in looking for my updates and
photos, and
your enthusiasm for my efforts to report my experiences. I also need to
thank
my daughter for providing the technical expertise as my webmaster. I
need only
write the stuff and email it to her - she handles the rest. Thanks,
Ab! I'll
keep all of you informed if I decide to venture forth again next
winter.
Adios, amigos!!
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