The end of our 2024 renewal visit to Pescadero marks the beginning of the 2024 blog. I hadn't visited either one since March 2020 when Covid shooed us stateside. The passage of four years brought many changes to us personally as well as to Pescadero.
Here, as at home, some of our friends have passed and relationships with old friends have deepened. Zoom classes have become more commonplace and so, I was able to participate in my yoga community at home, from my private yoga bower in the sand of Pescadero.
The biggest change in Pescadero and in our hometown is the number of new homes built and being built. The smaller, older ex-pat homes gave a nod to Mexican culture with palapa-roofed buildings and bougainvillea covered stick fences.
These newer homes outnumber the older ones
With the growing number of homes, the number of visitors to Pescadero also grows. In some ways that makes things easier. We now find more familiar products in grocery stores and we find more dogs on leashes, accompanied by owners. At home, we find newer products in our stores and a higher ratio of dogs to people.
By the end of our three week stay I found that most of the things I love about Pescadero are still there; it's just that they are a little harder to find. The fields of basil, peppers and tomatoes, though fewer and smaller in number are still there, still worked by busloads of able hands. While the old man operating a small bakery back behind the road is gone, the small shady corrals and pasture still hold a small herd of horses. In another pasture I found the two donkeys and an egret!
On a windy day, too cool for sunbathing, I walked the beach and found a bit of Mexico. In the distance I saw six men pulling something large from the ocean. I was too far away to identify their load before they returned to the sea to retrieve another bundle. Two men separated from the group, walked my way before sitting in the sand busying themselves with something on their laps. As I approached, one looked up and greeted me with a friendly "Buenos dias" before explaining to me that his friend, who was a good fisherman, was teaching him how to fish. A quick scan of the sand around them revealed no pole, just line with a large hook attached, a stick of no more than 6 inches long, a pair of scissors and a thin flopping fish. The fisherman first tied an old socket to the line, then a sparkplug before picking up the scissors to cut the fish for bait. While the line was readied, my narrator told me his real work was as a photographer in Cabo on the whale watching tours. Because this was a slow season, he now worked as a gardener. Did I have a house? Did I need a gardener? No, I'm a renter and there is a gardener already. As my new friend looked out over the ocean he added that this was a nice place, one of his favorite places to come. Did he know the fellows down the beach? "No. They are divers bringing up abalone." They gave him the fish to use as bait. This I had to see and continued down the beach. The "divers" had two large net bags full of oysters which they were sorting. They had masks and long sturdy poles, but no tanks. I lacked the vocabulary to ask about their methods and they were too engrossed in their task to try to decipher meaning from my struggling Spanish. The two encounters summarized the Mexican attitude toward our invasion: some keep their heads down and go about their daily lives, while others gladly share their experiences with smiling eyes.
On our last day in Pescadero, I always feel a little down. While that is true this year, I find myself looking forward to our next stop, the capitol of Baja California Sur, picturesque La Paz.
