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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