There’s these mornings that really bring on the sads and I haven’t quite puzzled out what it is about them. They tend to happen when I wake up on the early side, but nonetheless feel well rested. Leo notices I’m awake and rolls into me, belly up, reaching to lick my face. There’s such trust and casual intimacy in dog love, a sort of claiming. This is my person, they are now awake, which means they will pay attention to me. And it fills me with such joy, such love, and so much sadness. I think it’s when the “what ifs” start to come out? Or maybe it’s a reflection of some version of family I saw with him? Or maybe I’m remembering how fucking energized and happy I used to be to wake up. I’ve never been a snooze person, when I’m up, I’m completely up. He used to find it charming, if sometimes annoying. still waiting for that day without tears.
Little bird update:
Well, my portera bribed little bird into a box with tortilla while I wasn’t looking. So for now, at least, little bird lives in a box. This maybe a good thing as I did find a dead little bird on my patio a couple days later. Not sure what’s up with the bird life right now…
In other wildlife news. I killed a scorpion. Well step 1, I found a scorpion. In my house. I actually thought it was dead, but out of what I considered to be an abundance of caution, I nudged it with a shoe. It then moved, I yelped, thanked god Leo wasn’t home and relentlessly beat it with the shoe. I then googled “can scorpions still sting after death”. The answer is no. I still grabbed like half a roll of paper towels to scoot it on to some cardboard. I have a sneaking suspicion it came in on a plant I bought.
Early Friday morning I took off to San Jose del Cabo with Fran and her crew of friends for her birthday. I haven’t had a ton of curiosity around the Los Cabos area, but had never been to Baja Sur or Norte and am always down for an adventure. We were a group of five on a bit of a budget and let’s just say Airbnb rental prices definitely know their target audience. We are not it. However, we found a lovely condo that was only slightly out of our budget. A complex really, a bit hard to tell apart from a resort and right on the beach. Side note: did not realize you cannot swim at least on most of the beach in San Jose del Cabo.
We hopped off a plane and directly to breakfast at Flora Farms, a charming farm to table affair for the well to do with cabins, a private pool, some onsite high end shopping, a woodfire pizza oven, stunning gardens complete with tours, a very charming arrangement of vegetables in baskets and honey in jars lined with checkered fabric for sale, and a large and lovely restaurant. We ordered all things and picked through a delicious assortment of a warm pan dulce, a quiche that barely deserved the name by virtue of being 90% herbed goat cheese, delicious fried potatoes masquerading as baked and sopes. Fran had the most stacked version of a bloody mary I’ve ever seen. Piled high with a large chicharron, an entire lacinato kale leaf, and a mound of pickled peppers, jicama & greens beans.
After wrapping up breakfast, much as my crew would’ve done, this group had its priorities straight and immediately went to the grocery store. Also much like my crew, this was much more time consuming, less focused, and more expensive than anyone anticipated. After returning to the condo, we checked out the beach and played in the pool. It’s right after Semana Santa, and I’m guessing not spring break, so the place was very quiet with few other guests. The beach there is long and uniform with a strong single wave that breaks in the same place, at the same height and emitting the same bass heavy crash. There was no one. Not one soul, not one surfer in the water.
In the evening, I made dinner. A whole red snapper, a kale & arugula salad with oranges and jicama and almonds and some spicy coconut rice. This is a crew of ladies who don’t particularly cook which means they’ve been disproportionately impressed by my cooking and I am rediscovering that I am not good at taking compliments.
Day two was really the highlight. Our boat trip. Since this a group activity, a few concessions had been made and we were not scuba diving, nor we were going early enough for a serious snorkel. Whale watching was on the agenda and after a brief convo shoreside, it was decided that we’d head all the way to Los Arcos outside of Cabo San Lucas. Ok, so about that. Los Cabos refers to two neighbor cities at the end of Baja California, on the narrow section of land between the Sea of Cortez and the Pacific, Cabo San Lucas and San Jose del Cabo. Driving they’re about 30 minutes apart, although they each have their own airport. The former is known for large resorts and nightlife, the latter is apparently considered a bit more exclusive and less about the party life.
If you don’t know this about me, I’m particularly partial to a pelican. I don’t actually know if this is officially Sea of Cortez or the Pacific, but it was definitely calmer than I expected for more or less ocean. The land is desert which is an odd contrast with ocean and the gently humid air which does not particularly cool at night. Cacti grow in abudance, but the scene is muted tones of green and brown. The clouds are amazing, streaking across the sky in every form of fluff and striation I could imagine. I spotted sea creatures in them.
Our tour began in the Port at San Jose and headed west toward the Pacific. We immediately saw a whale and then no more the whole way out. I always love how after seeing an animal it temporarily becomes a whole boat obsession and we all scan the horizon with quiet seriousness, every so often offering an opinion as though we have become experts of whale life. My hunt for 70+ SPF had failed miserably, so I was hiding my newish tattoo and slathering 55 on about every 20 minutes. We were highly exposed. One of the girls had brought a speaker, so music sifted through the noise of motor and boat meeting wave. Mobula rays showed off leaping 4 feet high from the sea. As we began cruising into Cabo San Lucas, dolphins cruised behind us, in a highly objectionable move, our boat circled and the pod temporarily was amidst us before heading off. I was too busy being disgruntled to take a picture.
We then approached the Arch, with about 20 other boats.
El Arco de Cabo San Lucas is famous. It’s a three story granite rock formation that initially formed over 115 million years ago. Time, water, waves and erosion slowly created an arch which, admittedly, I assumed was limestone. You are not allowed to go through the arch, so boats line up for passengers to pose in front. The rock continues closer toward Cabo and opens into a sandy beach called Playa del Amor on the side facing the Sea of Cortez and Playa del Divoricio on the side facing the Pacific, where, as you likely guessed, the waters are more treacherous.
We stopped to snorkel a bit and saw butterfly fish, yellowtail snapper, spotted boxfish, and needlefish. We were a bit late in the day, and it was rather crowded. This is also not a prime snorkel spot, but all that considered, visibility was great, even with a little chop.
And on the way back, nearly home, we saw a humpback mama and babe. It was pretty incredible, though we did have to stop the captain from going too close. They rose and fell side by side, little whale blow echoing mama’s big one. We watched for a good 15 minutes before they dove deep.
We returned to shore weary, sunburnt and greeted by two mangy beasts hanging out by what appear to be public fish gutting stations, reminding you that this was once a fishing village.
That evening we headed into town center. Umm. Maybe. The way to the airport suggests a different version of town that I suspect may have it’s own center far away from this sparkly affair. Stopped by an Agricole for strawberries and cream. I eschewed those in favor of buying sea salt with jamaica and chipotle (totally worth it) and some spicy limey salty peanuts. Grabbed tacos at Lupitas and wandered a bit. I don’t think we covered the whole area but this “town” appears to have no more than 3 or 4 streets in each direction. We stopped for a night cap where we heard music. Fran’s friends are fun. The band began to play a Colombian tune and Paula immediately coaxed/threatened us all into dancing in an otherwise still space. The ladies from the table next door joined.
The next day, I discovered that I was thoroughly burnt. My efforts to protect the outside of my leg led me to disregard my inner leg. So not only am I burnt, I am unevenly burnt.
Sunday, Fran and I grabbed a car and drove over to La Paz. It’s not a long drive which is good because the scenery is a bit monotonous. Beautiful though. Almost sad in it’s starkness. To get to La Paz, you head west and then north through Todos Santos passing the Sierra de la Laguna mountains. These are dry mountains, crawling with organ pipe and elephant cactus, the ground looking like the final resting place of literally every tumbleweed the world has ever known. Signs said “Cactus Tours”. Now I don’t know exactly what a cactus tour consists of and if we’d had more time or I’d been with someone a bit more plant obsessed, I have no doubt I could tell you in great detail. But as it was we spun through a fantastically smooth and safe highway, cruising between mountains that I might have called hills looking at various shades of brown and tan interspersed with the washed out green of dry cactus. The total drive is around 2.5 hours and we made good time.
I should first say, more time should be spent in La Paz, however the first sad piece of news was that whale shark season had ended about 3 months early, so while I’d hoped to catch the tail end, I was no where even close. La Paz is famed for its 3 mile Malecon. A broad walkway dotted with sculptures and piers, lovers and children covered ice cream. Across the way are seaside shops, tour companies and restaurants, not so different than what you’d find on the Oregon Coast.
We strolled a bit before hunger took over and we headed inland to Tananka. Tananka is apparently a nice restaurant in La Paz. However, you first see a crude sign pointing you into a parking lot/tire facility. It’s open air, like most of the eating we did in Baja, and there are chickens! And a rooster who spent most of the time navigating tree limbs without a lot of grace, but who did give me quite the rooster glam shot from his branch.
The food was completely ok. I had a tuna tiradito that had a ton of tuna and was neatly arranged with a bit of a ponzu pond, but tasty and fresh. Fran had a lobster mac that she was super into. I don’t know if I just haven’t had the right one, but I always just feel like I never get what I want out of the lobster or the mac n cheese. We walked back down the Malecon to try and catch a very cloudy sunset and grab a scoop of ice cream. On a side note, I’m beginning to feel like ice cream is actually the most Mexican of foods. But as always here, the use of public space, astounds me. Families carting grandma and a posse of 4 children who are screaming after one another, climbing sculptures, and sticking toes in the sea. Dogs chasing balls across the shore. Young couples on rented trikes zipping through the chaos. Vendors selling bracelets with shells and rough leather straps. Old couples, young couples, multigenerational families. They’re all here Sunday evening (with ice cream) to socialize and maybe watch the sunset?
It had been a bit of a day, so we headed back early. Had a quick beer on the roof top and slept.
The next morning, as always, we woke to a shining sun! Our agenda- Playa Balandra. And breakfast, cause always food. Playa Balandra is very well known as the go to nicest beach near La Paz. And since we had not even 24 hours, we weren’t wasting time. So we headed north out of La Paz. It’s about a 30 minute drive to the playa with beautiful ocean side views and sharp cliffs on one side. We passed an area called Pedregal de la Paz and based solely on this and our experience of “Pedregals de…” in Mexico City, we have now decided that a pedregal is necessarily a wealthy community, although I have sneaking suspicion that it has to do with geography. We encountered a port unexpectedly. A large one. Heading back out into the hillsides we passed by a number of sandy beaches before arriving at Balandra and discovering there’s a waitlist. Fran did talk the guard into letting us drive through to look. And it was definitely pretty and calm and quite ideal for swimming. There had been a second beach, Playa Tecolote, a bit further down the road that she wanted to check out so we headed there. As a burnt person who loves water, the beach posed some challenges. It was long and sandy with chairs and umbrellas set up outside of busineses. Behind the wall of restaurants and past a sandy expanse the mountain rose. A few pelicans dove for fish and the sea was calm, refreshing, but warm and salty.
Today has been hard. My therapist recommended that I write Mike a letter. Not to send. I hate this suggestion. I have not yet been successful in extinguishing the hope that he would/will be honest and vulnerable with me for all that no part of my rational mind believes he will. And a letter just seems to smack of that hope. And yes, I’m trying to squash it. And the weekend with the girls. Fran’s crew. Not unlike my crew, but they listen to pop music and talk about bumble profiles and spin class. They lounge by pools and drink 0.0 beer and I like them. But the close resemblance to my group of gals in the level of intimacy, the known habits, and then the stark contrasts just made miss my group more. Achingly. I don’t actually wish to be back in college, but I do miss that physical closeness. I miss a pile of our limbs. I miss naked hour. I suppose those are the kinds of things I miss with Mike too. I have such a strong value for that kind of trust and intimacy, the just knowing of someone, how they take their coffee (or don’t), that I should probably eat a snack before waiting for “breakfast”, that if someone has to hit the brakes fast, their arm is going to go flying out across my chest, that we can impose on each other without thinking about it, that big love that makes their hurts yours. I miss ritual, the sense of community and belonging in life. I know I’ve set myself adrift and I still think I need it. But today that’s really hard.
Tacos of the Week: La Lupita
Lupitas is famous in San Jose del Cabo. Hardly a shack in the wall. This place is doing business and capitalizing year round on day of the dead catrinas and color schemes. It’s a charming space. Inside it’s dark and pleasantly noisy. A few rooms with tables scattered opening to a larger space with a long bar and a narrow stage about 15 feet in the air. Covers of Amy Winehouse and the Beatles came down from above.
Starting from the top braised pork with carmelized onions, carrot and a peanut sauce, quite tasty. Taco el pastor, tastes good, but not like pastor. Pescado miso with red snapper, miso, cucumber and jicama. The tacos were fine, the spicy mezcalita was delicious with just the right amount of jalapeno flavor.
Year One Project 
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