My vacation…

The big blue bus whisks us down Hwy 1, past the Jack Nicklaus Golf course, currently under construction ~ a mere $350 to play we learn. Going past small concrete houses, villas and many hotels we embark at Melia Cabo Real, greeted by friendly Company big wigs, our choice of water, Mai Tai, Mango Margaritas and a quick registration process, were we get our day trip passes and our room keys. Also the magic orange bracelet. Taking the elevator we reach our floor, each has its own “patio’ consisting of sofa, chairs and a mirror~ I note ours has two angel heads as ornamentation.

Our room is spacious~ marble floor through out, that feel very nice on the feet and two nice views; a water feature planted with palms, vines, and manicured sand, raked like a Zen garden. The balcony view overlooks the center court and if daring enough to lean out a bit~ the sea. We freshen up go down to the water side restaurant and begin to experience the “magic” of the orange bracelet….let me just say “all- inclusive” means just that, tips and all . The food here~ from burgers to tamales is surprisingly good ~ more guacamole, chips and seafood than I could imagine. The staff is very attentive and after a great repast, our group decides to power nap through the humidity and regroup for dinner. Repeat of lunch, except of course it is dinner. We head to the main bar for more talking and drinking…the bracelet keeps working and I thank all the hard work my friend and her contemporaries did to get us here.

Mad dogs and Englishmen

We sleep in and after lunch the gang decides to walk to the beach, it is quite warn and humid, so knowing my temperament I am drinking water, between margaritas, wearing my huge straw hat and taking it very slowly. We stop at the beach bar( there is a bar nearly every where ,even the pool),and even with more water I can begin to feel a heat stroke coming on, it’s about 2p.m.,so I beg off and begin to return to my cool room. I make it up the stairs to the third landing and snap, twist, throb… I have fallen, get up wonder if my mother can get back all that ballet lesson money as it clearly has made me not graceful …then another few feet to shade where the waiter takes one look at me, brings me water ,ice and worries over me. After about a half hour, I am cool enough to limp to my room, where with a cold towel I fall into bed and sleep. My friend returns at some point to nap, and when dinnertime comes we look at my ankle, which is now 3 times its normal size. I decided to stay bed ridden, as the next day is our side trip to Tados Santos… which I will not miss! Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid day heat, indeed.

That trip is worth a part three, so I will leave you with some food memories. The waterside “La Palpa” is quite good, varied breakfast and lunch service. The two places worthy of extra mention are “La Terraza”~ where we share a salad for two(?) have the cream of artichoke soup topped off with pulled crab and fish roe, the best fillet, topped with tomato and melted cheese ,sauced and surrounded by a few strips of tempura zucchini strips…then desert. A pristine plate of white arrives with a few sliced raspberries off to one side and what to all appearances looks like a dark chocolate pyramid, which once cracked sharply open with the back of a spoon reveals it’s contents, vanilla ice cream and a rum soaked chocolate torte base. Yum.

The last night we eat at Restaurant Kujira~ an al la carte Japanese cuisine set in a room with a huge scarlet sculpture of a whale. This place has won awards for it’s fine dinning experience and it showed, seared tuna, great sushi, tempura and a fish teppanyaki (not made in front of us)……everything tasted of heaven. My friends had the teriyaki, beef and chicken said to be excellent, my roommate a tofu soup, our shared sushi and a memorable dinner was had by all. My ankle is only about twice its normal size now, so I go off for a nightcap~ they spent the day shopping and at Cabo Wabo, Sammy Hagar’s place, so it is an early night for them. Warm breezes, warm bellies and a warm feeling of relaxation make for a lovely last night.

Tomorrow I go to discover the magic and hidden treasure of Tados Santos.

The morning of our side trip to Tados Santos, my ankle is still twice its normal size, developing the most interesting coloration, and cannot be moved in one direction, not good signs. Several strong cups of java, a modest breakfast , handfuls of Advil and a stiff upper lift find me aboard the big blue bus for a 1 ½ hour trip to the city . Our tour guide gives up the local history, telling us interesting details about the area. The “natives” apparently live as they have always done, subsistence farming higher up in the mountains, and everyone else here is from another part of Mexico. I suspect the natives may be on to something as we pass yet another golf course, several villas, several more corporate giants and even more hotels. We see few swim able beaches, those that are safe we find hardy surfers in beautiful azure water.

We ease into less development; country that is more open and topping a crest in the road suddenly see a lush green valley, with hints of roofs peeking through ~Tados Santos. It has very narrow streets, real cobblestones, planted center dividers~ how our driver manages the turns is a marvel to see. Disembarking the first thing I notice~ warm but no humidity, we are now on the Pacific side of Baja and cool ocean breeze’s reach me~ point one in the cities favor. We walk to the Church, as biggest building it will be our meeting point for those who wander. We decide to follow the tour guide, over hill and dale to the cultural center for a quick review of the past. I am dragging one foot as quickly as I can and am a good three blocks behind the tour, but my friend stays at mid point so we do not get lost, just cannot hear what the guide maybe saying. Yet the eye revels much; this is old colonial Spanish architecture, adobe, with thick plaster, arched doorways, and high walkways. One door that stands out in my memory, with weathered old red peeling paint, that talks if one has the ears to hear of years and events long ago. The town itself it quiet, small full of friendly locals and many shops full of silver, local crafts, pottery and many fine art galleries. There is a Gringo News paper, a “green edition” of a local magazine and the smell of good food everywhere.

We enter a “newer” building, circa 1870’s, and the first thing we see are beautiful murals done by unknown artists depicting Mexican history. All of the walls have these murals, but only two have been saved from wind, rain and the effects of hurricanes. We cross a plaza; there under a huge old tree is a recreation of a casa, complete with landscaping and even chickens in the coop, their version of Pioneer Village but on a small scale. We enter the rooms, they have the usual displays of oil paintings of past mayors, a series of native artifacts, many old black and white photos from the ages past and then the hidden treasure….there hung among several local art works she hangs, unheralded, and sap that I am, a lone tear escapes my eye…a Frieda Kahlo. She is one of my personal art heroes~ politics not with standing~ and while all the info is on small cards (left my reading glasses at the hotel) it looks to be the real thing. Others from my group, Texans who speak only Spanish, are near and notice my obvious rapture, I mutter “real”? They respond “si” and help me with my camera to get the flash on. I am not sure who is more amazed, me at finally seeing a work up close or they, that I, an obvious very white woman, even knows who Frieda is. There are two hanging there, self portraits .This is a moment I will not forget.*edit* I have done a small search for the art I saw and so far can not find reference to this particular work, but recently new art from her hand was found and these look real enough*. However, bah humbug even if these turn out to be “in the style of”~ the magic of art, surrealism at that, crossing language barriers and uniting a disparate group in wonder is not to be pooh-poohed. It was my hidden treasure.

We wander about a bit, eating a sumptuous meal at the Hotel California, lamb burger with blue cheese and caramelized onions on locally baked bread, my companion having sea and turf quesadillas .A food mystery here~ we get the required chips, salsa and guacamole, but also a warm mystery dip the color of the setting sun, very mild heat but savory. An elderly gentleman plays classical guitar, as the fountain splashes and the ever-present sparrows look for a hand out. I am in love with this town, the spirit of these people, this place~, even as my ankle continues to swell. (*apparently, I have broken a small bone, so I write this through a pain pill haze*.)

The magic of the orange bracelet is long gone; some things linger deep within my soul. Perhaps because I was born in Santa Barbara, my early memories of Fiesta, the horsemanship, the wonder of seeing flamenco great El Greco, my love of Spanish Missions, even with all those accompanying horrors, I respect this culture so. It is an integral part of me, and my state. The final question remains is Mexico really gone as California becomes the land under my feet? Politically I suppose so, but Mexico is still a spice that has shaped our state ,as a native daughter I can not forget that. I recommend a visit.

Peace as always and in all ways~Sage