Archive for the ‘Mexico’ Category

Cabo-II

March 4, 2010

We’ve been back from our week in Cabo for 11 days and the sunshine and memories have to hold me through several more weeks of winter, otherwise known in Idaho as ‘spring’. So, for extra measure, I spent all last week, our first week back from Cabo, imagining that I was still in Cabo. I even started feeling all sad by last Wednesday, knowing that the extra imaginary week of our vacation in my head was already half over.

This week reality settled in. I was ready to forget Cabo and decided to ditch writing the Cabo-II blog with all those photos I took with my i-phone. That was … until I was messing with my phone today and happened upon this photo:

Is that you, Pooky?

What can I say? I had told you about Pee-Wee and mentioned his relatives, now, how could I not introduce you to his voyeuristic cousin ‘Pooky’- fanned out on my spoon, offering a full exposition of his ‘succulent’ legs. (There must be some scientific name for those suction cups.)

Oh, you’d rather see scenery, would you? Okay, here goes: My slide show of Cabo. Let me start with the view of the ocean from the chair I was sitting in while staring down at Pooky. We were eating lunch at the Seven Seas restaurant near San Jose Del Cabo:

After lunch we took a walk on the beach. Utopian! Except you gotta keep an eye out for those crashing waves if you prefer walking on the wet sand along the shoreline. They swell up on the the water in the distance, then come exploding in with an unexpected ferocity that sends them gliding much further up on the shore than you are prepared for…

I was wearing flip flops and a wave soared up to my knees and sucked my left flip flop off my foot on its way back out. But not to worry, the next wave delivered it right back to me. It was a challenge, flip-flopping along, trying to keep up with my husband, David, and brother, Eric, who wore tennies. Wet tennies.

We did lots of things that week in Cabo – some of them real, some imaginary. Like this boat ride out to the Pacific ocean:


We’re in a 40′ catamaran for a whale watching excursion out beyond the tip of the Baja Penninsula. Yet, for a minute, I imagined that we had come off that boat – the Princess Cruise line. If we had, we would have taken a small boat into shore to spend part of the day in Cabo San Lucas. Instead, we sailed on past the cruise ship out into the Sea of Cortez, where we spotted a baby hump-back whale with its mother. The baby was only a few days old and was leaping exuberantly out of the water, timing it just right so as not to be leaping up when I was clicking my camera.

I did have a little excursion on that cruise liner during my imaginary second week in Cabo, where I boarded the Princess and headed to Mazatlan.

Our group could have forked out 800 bucks or more and gone out at 6 AM on one of these fishing boats:

And if we’d gotten real lucky, we would have come back by 3 PM with one or more raised flags, announcing our catches we were hauling in for the day – such as dorado (mahi mahi), or sailfish, or marlin, or tuna, or … nothing – which resulted in your boat returning with no flags flying at all, even if you did pay the 800 bucks…

Not on our boat, esp. since we didn't go

And the pelicans are faithfully waiting for the catch to be hoisted up and weighed:

… and to grab some scraps when the fish are filleted:

Except, I refused to go fishing. So I sabotaged the whole idea. Hey! I get seasick. Plus, I look horrible at six in the morning, and I’m probably a witch, though one can’t be sure, because I’ve made it a point never to be up then, lest I find out for certain. Why take the chance?

I certainly did not go fishing, in my head, during my second week in Cabo.

We talked about owning a yacht, docking it here with the others:

But, well, a yacht all the way from …

Casper, Wyoming? How did they get it here?

We were always hungry for lunch and considering places to eat. Solomon’s Landing, near the docks, had great fish tacos:

Solomon's Landing

We discovered another restaurant for lunch, true to its name:

That's us, upstairs, behind those flowers

I took a photo of the view over those flowers on the second story deck where we were sitting …

…while waiting for our first round of giant, killer Margaritas. It was here that we celebrated Victor’s birthday, complete with serenade:

Stephanie and Victor -Do we have to listen to this even if it is Victor's birthday?

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you …,” sung in their finest Mexican accents, strumming two chords. “How about a love song?” Victor suggests.

And we drank more Margaritas than usual because it was Victor’s birthday …

… and his birthday reminded us of an old Beatles song, which we sang in unison all the way down the stairs and out the front door of the restaurant, because we were feeling really, really happy …

But we could still walk, so we went shopping at the grocery store:

We are disciplined about it:

We checked out some other shopping deals:

And entertainment options:

Then carried our loot home:

Melia Cabo Real Resort

It’s time for dinner now, and we’re headed back out into the balmy evening:

It’s 8:30 PM and we’re sitting in Victor’s favorite restaurant, Edith’s, whose culinary fare is fit for a king. Victor had made the reservation three days ago, and we felt lucky that they had squeezed us in before the end of our trip. Tonight was the feast to surpass all feasts! Order up the appetizers! Oh, but wait a minute, Jody … looks … pale. Says she feel’s a bit queasy. As in, she knows what’s in her stomach, of which she’s about to hurl, which would be ‘Pee-wee’ – that whole baby octopus, Pooky’s cousin, she ate in one piece at lunch at Seven Seas Restaurant overlooking the ocean a few hours earlier. So, no choice but to … bail Edith’s! Quickly! Head for the car! But wait, what about dinner? … Food fit for a king, is what we’re looking for? …

Victor Ate Here

Burger King comes to the rescue! The food was served fast enough to where Victor got Jody home just in time for the … well, you know… not-pretty scene involving her face, and the toilet, and loud convulsive sounds coming from the bathroom …

Alas, It is our final day. And I sit and take in the view from our balcony one last time before we check out of our resort:

Travel day. Good-bye to Cabo! – the southernmost tip of Baja California Sur. We are headed now to the airport in San Jose Del Cabo:

Time to board … and fly … and land … and get luggage … and drive…

Pulled into our driveway in Idaho Falls by 11 PM Sat. Feb 21. Temperature: 12 degrees.

Unpacked for a couple of days. And shivered. Geez! My blood must have thinned! Midway into last week, my imaginary second week in Cabo, I wandered outside and took this photo of our house:

Does this look like Cabo, Mexico?

And ran back to Cabo in my mind. I even considered planning a fishing trip in Cabo after I get back off the Princess cruise, returning from Mazatlan.

Okay, so today is Wednesday, March 3. Just another day. Except I came across Pooky, and a flood of great memories and fantasies washed over me, in the midst of my reality.

I took another picture this morning – this time out our front kitchen window…

That doesn’t look like the ocean to you, does it? Didn’t think so.

Hey! It’s a whopping 40 degrees! Is that rain?

I need to get out there and take down our Christmas lights. Okay … I’ll do it.

… But first, can I go on this Fiesta Cabaret Cruise …

…in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico? Please? Pretty Please?

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‘Cabo’

February 26, 2010

Okay, so I wasn’t going to blog to all my friends about my recent trip to Cabo, Mexico. I mean, who wants to hear about it, especially if you’re stuck in southeast Idaho or some other frozen northern clime your entire February (and perhaps your January, and March, and April, too, dagnabbit!).

But then … During lunch on the beach one day, mid-vacation, I lifted this thing up out of my seafood soup:

Heads or Tails?

Oh, a little sea creature. How cute! A baby octopus? Or is it a squid? I honestly don’t know. But “Pee-Wee” and three of his relatives were all floating around in my soup. Well now, how often does a person living in Idaho have a chance to eat fresh exotic seafood such as this? So I gave it a go:

The only way to eat it, I figured, was in one piece, head first, except the thing was too large to fit in my mouth:

And to be honest, I was well aware of the numerous suction cups running up and down those tentacles hanging out of my mouth. Like, you know, when I get those suction-cupped tentacles into my mouth are they, uh, gonna attach themselves to the inside of my cheek or something? So I sandwiched the rubbery, nearly tasteless sea creature securely between my jaws and gnawed on it like a rabid chipmunk, advanced the chewy glob toward the back of my throat – and quick! swallowed it. Whew! Of course, later that evening I ended up retching over the toilet with the dry heaves. Not sure what was going on in my digestive tract at that juncture, but all those violent contractions surely dislodged any wayward tentacles that could have attached themselves somewhere down the line. I don’t know. I don’t need to know, since I plan on never eating another thing like that, not its head, or tentacles, or any of it.

My husband, David, and I, and some relatives were staying at the Melia Cabo Real Resort near Cabo San Lucas on the tip of the Baja Penninsula. We enjoyed stopping in some of the local shops to check out souvenirs. Or shall I say, I enjoyed shopping. David preferred to wait outside, while I visited the shops.

David, waiting, while Jody shops

While shopping I came across scores of 12″ statues of this old, old woman, well, okay, an extremely old, old woman and extremely skinny, clothed in a floor-length gown with, uh, the face and hands of a skeleton. I was rather intrigued with the idea of buying her and displaying her at home in full view, so that when I walked past her I could remind myself that no matter how old I get, I will never look as old as she does. Comforting, you know? Like, I pictured myself at age 80, looking and feeling like I’m 110, but then looking at her and feeling, uh, younger, I guess. Well anyway, then I thought, if I came home from Mexico with her I couldn’t exactly display her in plain view, say, on our mantle or something. She just didn’t go with our decor. So I didn’t buy her. But I did meet her on the street – in life-sized form. This statue was a more jovial representation of her than what I had seen in the shops and I connected with her instantly. So I posed with her. See what you think:

Two fine-looking broads

Okay so I do look younger, right? Although she does look a tad more ‘robust’ than I. With a face as old as that, though, her boobs must be implants, otherwise they’d be sagging past her hips. I’d like this same artist to create his statue image of me. Considering what he augmented from ‘bare bones’ in his statue of her – my statue should end up with straight-out 38-DD boobs. Nice!

Anyway, what do you know, but, that same evening, while walking to a restaurant for dinner, I happened on another artist’s rendering of the skeletal woman, this time as a metal sculpture, and, what can I say? The connection was immediate:

The only thing missing is my straw hat

I stopped my sister dead in her tracks – to photograph me again beside ‘skeletal woman’ while the rest of our dinner party continued on their way. Then after we got the photo, my sister and I got lost on account of, at my urging, we went straight ahead when we were supposed to turn right, or something. And our husbands, now several blocks ahead of us, grew understandably alarmed at our unexpected disappearance. But they eventually backtracked, and we turned around because we knew we were lost, and in the end we all found each other again. So this time around the ol’ skeletal woman vibe was a little sketchy for us.

Which shouldn’t be surprising, based on what I learned about ‘skeletal woman’ after I got home and did some research. She is known as ‘Sante Muerte,’ which, uh, translates as ‘Saint Death.’ Well, no wonder I knew I’d always feel younger when I compared myself to her! Except for when I’m ten years buried in the grave. So why are there columns of Saint Death statues in the shops and propped around the sidewalks in Cabo, Mexico? Well, here is a link to learn about her, ‘The New God In Town,’ if you are interested.

According to this article in Wikipedia, images of Santa Muerte are generally individualistic and personal. No two are exactly the same. Sizes vary immensely from small images held in one hand to those requiring a pickup truck to move. Some people even have the image tattooed on their bodies.

The article continues, “All images are dressed either in long robes or (less commonly) long dresses, covered from head to feet with only the face and hands showing. This symbolizes how people hide their true selves from the rest of the world. The robe or dress covers the skeletal figure like flesh covers the bones of the living. Both are said eventually to fall away. The most common image is Santa Muerte in a robe, with a scythe in the right hand and the globe in the left.”

Well, I’m glad I didn’t cart a statue of Santa Meurta home to display on my living room mantle. I live with enough reminders of aging and impending death just looking at myself in the mirror. And anyway, I prefer the image of Santa Muerta in a bright sun dress with the gigantic boobs, sporting a huge smile next to me with my broad smile, flat chest, and bright shopping bag. Oh, and I noticed her exposed hands don’t sport liver spots. Oh that’s right, they fell away.

Okay so I’m totally putting a wrap on this – my blog about my week’s vacation to Cabo, Mexico. But wait a minute! I have about forty more photos to talk about! Well, maybe I’ll continue with my story in my next blog … in the meantime, I sure ain’t gettin’ any younger.
Now why did I have to bring that up?

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