Gifts of Baja

 Just being down here is a gift.  Being able to afford the trip in all ways:  time, pocketbook and temperament.  It is all a lucky juxtaposition.  But once down here, even more gifts unfold: beauty of the land itself, climate, sea and people are all incredible.

Having grown up in Phoenix in the 50's, coming to the Sonora desert always feels like homecoming.  Giant and ancient cordon cacti (so very similar to the mighty saquaro) dominate the scene, as if they hang the whole landscape of shrubs and smaller cacti to the endless blue skies.  Tires sing along the black ribbon of transpennisular highway.  Inside the Aquila bus that carries toward El Pescadero Mexican travelers behind closed curtains, sit wrapped in the aurora of an unsubtitled, Spanish-dubbed movie.  Those in for the long haul know the scenery all too well and don't revel in it like we two Norte Americanos.

The day of our arrival, the skies in Cabo San Lucas, uncharacteristically overcast, offered a gentle warm rain.  While short-time visitors lament the lack of sunshine, the scrubby desert flora and the many-armed cordons raise branches and newly formed blooms All sing praises for the gift of water.  Every last living thing looks so fresh, so wonderfully green and free from months of accumulated dust.  A night in the hotel near the airport eases us into the language transition.  There Bruce enjoys the Superbowl (quickly learning the Spanish word for "penalty") and I lament that the commercials are all local!

The next morning the rain has passed, and our walk to pick up our one day rental car is pleasant.  We even spot a rare and tiny boganvilla bloom outside of our hotel.

Today we do not begrudge the cloudy remnants of yesterday's rain.  We spend the next three hours in a giant and bewildering grocery store designed for locals.

As we leave the busy city of Cabo San Lucas we head first west, then north and gifts from the sea begin to show themselves.  Could we really be seeing whale spouts as we drove along?  Yes!  The unmistakable rise and splash of the giant tail confirmed our sightings.  And those skinny little fins slicing the water's surface in larger groups could only be dolphins arcing to the surface.  Stopping in front of our Airbnb we are greeted by our landlord.  He is happy to see us return and excitedly shares the little improvements he's made.

Another hour passes as we unload groceries and booze (the grocery store had no bags or boxes to hold our many supplies). 

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Finally, we are free to head to the water's edge.  A nearing wave promising the coming  high tide deposits a limpet shell at my feet.  The middle hole crowns it a keyhole limpet.  I can't refuse the gift, scooping it up and wondering if I'll find what I need to make a simple necklace to wear while I'm here.  Bruce and I each fall into our own silent reveries.  I find myself revisiting the time we watched a friend's son place our friend's ashes in these very waves.  Bruce turns to me saying, "Can't you just feel the spirit of this place!"  Yes, it's a pretty special spot.

Next, just before sunset, comes a pair of pelicans nonchalantly navigating troughs between the waves, watching just below the surface for this evening's catch.

After coffee on the beach and a simple breakfast the following morning, we must again go into Cabo to return our car.  It is our one last piece of business before we can settle into some serious relaxing.  Bruce easily finds the return spot, but we are disappointed to learn the agent is unable to ferry us to the bus station where we'd hoped to catch the last morning bus back north to Pescadero!  Between the agent's spotty English and my rusty and very spotty Spanish, we learned of a city bus we could ride to the bus station.  The agents, having trouble understanding my poor attempts at communication handed me a folded piece of paper telling me to show it to the bus driver.  "This would be easiest," she advised.  Even I could translate the note which said, "Grant the favor of stopping across from the Aguila bus station."  Once on the bus, I did as I was told, then,  carefully pronouncing my next words to the driver, "Soy como una nina!"   (I an like a little child!).  After a glance at my lined face and graying hair he gave a warm smile and kind chuckle.  We sat behind him and he was sure to make eye contact in his mirror as he neared our stop.

Back in our quiet little town we began a search for some dark thread.  Bruce thought we should hem a too-long doorway curtain in our Airbnb, but I hadn't brought enough thread.  Google gave me the correct words and while on the hour-long Aguila bus ride I practiced my new words and thought about some things people were teaching me.  I always try to speak like the Mexicans, hoping for the fluid fast musical sound of the language.  The rental car agents had trouble understanding me.  As we rode along in the bus listening to the Spanish movie I thought of my friend, Tim and his patient delivery of the language, careful to use correct pronunciation. "It's not communication if no one understands, " I thought to myself.  Off the bus I stopped in a store to ask  for thread.  On the second stop the storekeeper asked if I needed thread for mending clothes.  Oh, I just need two pieces about this long.  What color?  Anything dark for hemming the curtain.  Would black be ok?  Yes!  She stepped out back, returning with a spool and told me to take what I needed.  She wanted to give it to me!  I decided to buy a gift at her shop for a friend.  Then followed a conversation about learning English/Spanish.  We compared eavesdropping techniques and other ways of teaching yourself a new language, each understanding the other's dilemma.  By the time we were done, I felt I'd met a new friend.  Yes, visiting Baja is truly a gift.