Baja Tuesday's... A Journey Through Hilarity

Horse power, Horsepower and The Secret in the Sand
A Photographic Odyssey
Part II

When traveling, it is important to remain flexible. One must try to remember that all things are an adventure...even when others are looking at you as if you've lost what little good sense you previously possessed. It was this epiphany that motivated me to join Dave and Ryan on their 4-wheeled adventure trip when I could otherwise have been shopping and lounging by the pool with a rum laden beverage in hand. And seeing Ryan's innate ability to maneuver and handle the bike was pretty impressive, too, bringing him back into good standing after The Great Muffin Conflict.
We began the day with breakfast by the pool, the now usual routine. Dave orders me coffee and we stare past the veranda to the marina and beyond, to the sea. Our trip is halfway over and we're all a little regretful. It's gone by too fast. The slow pace of this town has infected us and we're all moving on what is known as 'Mexico Time'. Eileen has decided to stay at the resort today. She's intent on doing a little shopping in the mall near our hotel and picking up the standard 'grandkid gifts'. I have a moment when I consider skipping out on this ATV thing, but it passes. I'm trying to relax and have an adventure but this persistent will to live is perpetually requesting that I rethink my plans.
Eileen bids us a fond farewell and more or less waves over her shoulder as she trots out of the lobby on her way to the mall. I can hear her singing a little song about Pina Coladas as she skips out the door and into the Mexican sunshine. Hm, I think to myself. There goes my last chance out of this. I suppose I could have my own shopping day...or just sit with Francisco, the bartender, at the pool...
Just then the van pulls up to the portico in front of the lobby. The name of a local ranch is painted on the side and there's a driver getting out. Too late now.
"Here he is. This is us." Dave starts walking and hands the driver the voucher we received from the lovely Violet. Ryan is practically giddy, he's so excited. He dances his way into the van like a two year old who's been promised a pony ride, pulling me along with him.
We all climb in and zoom from the parking lot. I'm wishing these commuter vans came equipped with a 5 point harness and will be grateful if we even make it to our destination. The ride to the ranch is long. We see the same construction and cacti that we saw coming into Cabo. I look over at Ryan occasionally and he grins at me, wide and toothy. He's beyond reason.
We eventually arrive at a lean-to with the ranches name above it and 15 or 20 ATV's parked in front. It's swelteringly hot and dusty. We're surrounded by a cacti forest on all sides with deeply rutted roads leading in and out. Is this a tour or a mugging, I ask myself? Dave and Ryan sign their lives away on a waver and I'm asked to do the same. I don't even look, just point and sign. I don't want to know what could happen to me on these dusty roads in Mexico. I'm taking a chance. It's an adventure.
Ryan and Dave are given their bikes. Ryan and I are riding together, so I climb on behind him and adjust the goggles and bandanna we've been given. The bikes roar to life and our guide, Thomas, leads the way past the cacti and through an exceedingly low-ceilinged tunnel that passes beneath the highway. We emerge into the sun on the other side and suddenly Thomas is out of sight. He's hit the accelerator and is streaking up the hill, a hill that is pitted and full of holes, littered with stones and rubble. 'Shaking like a belly dancer' does not begin to describe what was happening to us on that bike as we ascended the hill and realized we had so far to go. Dusty, pitted roads spread out before us through the desert with no end in sight. I didn't have time to ask questions. Ryan hit the throttle and I was literally hanging on for dear life, sliding inch by inch off the back of the speeding ATV.
Ryan was laughing behind his goggles and bandanna and I was screaming in abject terror. We eventually came out at the top of a steep ravine where we stopped to breathe and where Ryan slowly untangled my limbs from around his waste and neck. From this vantage we could see where we were headed, down the ravine on a winding trail and through a dry riverbed to the beach. We took a moment to enjoy the view and then I heard Ryan whisper, 'Dunes', before we careened over the edge of the world and into the canyon.

Us.

Yep. That's Dave. We're racing. I think we lost.

Group photo. None too clear, but trust me, that's us.

Obviously we made the descent well enough. Ryan and Dave were having the time of their lives, and if I'm honest, I have to admit that hanging on to Ryan while we raced around like irresponsible maniacs was pretty fun for me, too.
We spent the day racing, exploring and riding along the surf. It was at the end of this amazing afternoon that our guide, Thomas, began talking about the island that lay off the coast of Cabo San Lucas. A tiny spit of land, really, yet home to many ex-Cabo residents. Apparently, the Mexican authorities thought Australia and Alcatraz were pretty good ideas, and have been sending criminals (and their families) to make it or break it on this island for years. The numero uno offense that lands people on Prison Bar (like my little play on words there??) ? Disturbing the colony of Sea Turtles that yearly make their nests in the sands near Cabo San Lucas.
"They ask no questions." Says Thomas. "You touch the eggs without a license, they take you and your whole family out to La Isla and you don't come back. Fortunately, all the guides for these tours are licensed to protect. We mark nests and keep people away."
I am impressed and wary at the same time. We've taken a break to get some water and to sit in the shade. I am COVERED in the dust that we've kicked up in our fun. Ryan is clean as a whistle since my body shielded him. I might have ruined one of my favorite shirts, but the cute criss cross straps have made a pretty neat dirt mosaic on my back which I suspect may never wash off. I ponder the variety of methods I might employ to scrape the grime off of my body while simultaneously listening to Thomas and thinking about the buffet that will be spread out later. I'm nothing if not a multi-tasker.
" you see those logs in the sand right there?" Thomas points a short distance from where we are standing. We nod.
"There's a nest right there. Almost ready to hatch. Two, three days maybe."
We are all amazed now and I am no longer thinking about food or showers. "Right there?? Sea turtle eggs???"
"Yeah, come on. I'll show you."
Thomas walks to the logs and kneels down. He begins scooping fistfuls out and making a pile. I am kneeling at the edge next to him, caught up in wonder. And then I see them, a literal PILE of perfectly round, golf-ball sized eggs. He picks one up and hands it to me.
"They hatch maybe tomorrow. You can feel them moving."
And I could. The shell was surprisingly papery and thin and beneath it I could feel the tiny turtle wiggle in my fingers. The couple who is biking with us wants a turn and I hand over the egg with regret. Our camera malfunctions at that moment and my photo op is lost. I am disappointed to lose the picture, but feel as if the whole experience was somehow a quiet personal secret, a once in a lifetime experience, and at that moment I am undeniably glad that I came.

In the end, joining in on the fun with Ryan and Dave was absolutely the right choice. A minor sunburn, total filth, absolute exhaustion- but a day that turned out to be adventurous, exhilarating and even magical at times, teaching me to keep an open mind and to look for wonder every moment, like finding the turtle nest or seeing the small herd of wild donkeys grazing in the desert on our way back. Wonder is kind of a hard thing to pull off when raising three children and being stuck in the peanut butter and jelly rut.


The trip back goes twice as quickly as the ride there. My mouth is full of sand and I'm reluctant to smile at anyone. We climb back into the waiting van and my stomach reminds me that our buffet fantasies were interrupted earlier and I resume them where I left off. Ryan's grin is plastered in place. His arm hangs around my shoulders. He's happy and relaxed.
We head back to the hotel and I am looking at Ryan in a totally different light as we bump along through the construction zones. Dave is in the front seat telling the Pepelina story to the 4th shuttle driver since this trip began. It's still funny to us and we know the whole thing word for word in spanish now. The driver is laughing so hard I wonder if he's able to drive, then rethink that. He's not such a great driver stone cold sober, a little laughter can't make it worse. He might be more careful with us now that he knows how gifted we are in the humor department. One never knows.
I am content as I watch the fleeting sun go down over the sea beyond the van window. A step outside of the comfort zone certainly, but this adventure ranks very high on my list of Great Day's for the unusual experiences hidden in a simple ATV tour.
We join Eileen for dinner by the pool later that night, the lights from the marina reflecting in the water and the sounds of laughter and conversation adrift around us. She has had a relaxing day of her own, wandering through town and talking with the locals. We tell her about the trip and the turtles and the view and she is amazed and only half sorry to have missed it all.
Tomorrow is another day. Dave and Eileen will have been married 36 years and we're celebrating their anniversary with a romantic dinner cruise at sunset. Only God and the fates know what tomorrow holds- but I assure you, it wasn't what any of us had planned. All we can do is wait and see...

Please stay tuned for next weeks episode of Baja Tuesday's...
"I think we might be on the wrong boat..."

Baja Tuesdays...A Journey Through Hilarity

*Horse power, horsepower and the Secret in the Sand*
A Photographic Odyssey
Part 1- Horse power

Wednesday morning dawned bright and early in Los Cabos. Being a fishing village, and a tourist attraction for the large sport fish those waters held, dawn and dusk were the busiest times of day. Hundreds of boats of all sizes departed at sunrise and then returned home again at sunset with their catch, or at the very least, with flag adorned masts denoting which great fish were caught, and subsequently released, on the days journey. We loved to wake up at 6am and watch them getting their gear together and loading the boats. Then, like a signal had gone off to all of them at once, the engines would roar to life and they would streak out of the harbor and melt into the sunrise. The day has officially begun.

This afternoon we have scheduled a private horseback ride at sunset at a ranch not too far from Cabo. We spend the morning at the beach club, humiliate ourselves in and out of the water taxi, and then meet up with a local company for a quick glass bottomed boat tour out to Los Arcos, or The Arch.
I absolutely LOVE boating. Have I mentioned that? LOVE it. I could very happily live on a boat for the rest of my life. A small one though- not one of those cruise ships. Those are scary. Anyway- So, once again we're in a crappy little wooden boat bouncing through the choppy waves out of the marina, and I am in 7th heaven. Couldn't be happier, honestly. See? Here's a picture of me joking around with the guide (another good looking Mexican whose name is sadly forgotten).


If you ignore the fact that I look hungover, which I assure you, I was NOT- then you can clearly see how delighted I am. Ahem, anyway- This really was one of my favorite fun things because A. it was free, B. it was cool (I'm talking temps here) and C. we were able to meet many of the natives up close and personal. See below.

You kind of wonder what is being said in this conversation....

A crabby friend who promptly pinched our guide...and of course,

The real wildlife.

The view was also amazing and the sea, indescribable. It's impossible to explain the color and the beauty of it except to say what I said many times on the boat that day, it's just like in the pictures you always see of tropical places. They aren't kidding or using photoshop. It's really that color.


Moving on. Our group departs after the tour and we head back to the hotel to eat and prepare for our sunset ride. Eileen and I have been looking forward to this since long before we left for Mexico and have actually paid for this, so it better be good. (This post is going to be heavy on pictures and light on literature- hope no one minds)
I'd like to introduce you to Jimmie.

Jimmie is a BIG palomino gelding full of 'espirito', which is what I had Dave request in Spanish upon arriving at the ranch. I'm not some city chick (in spite of my love for handbags and shoes) who's never been on a horse, and my biggest apprehension about this tour was that I'd get stuck with a plodder. So we requested espirito, muy espirito, and that's exactly what we got.
Jimmie was a giant and he HAD to be in the front. He looks sweet in this picture, and in fact he was, but he was happiest when running full tilt down the beach at a hundred miles per hour. I was happiest that way too, but since our guide Jose' had risked his neck letting me do it, I only got one chance at it. You'll have to ask Eileen about the whole episode as Ryan (the one with the camera) did not get any pictures as he was out buying a muffin.
Eileen got the plodder, unfortunately, and ended up tethered to the guide's saddle and being literally pulled down the beach against the very adamant convictions of the beast in question.
Dave and Ryan were given horses with zero personality, which I'm sure Ryan appreciated. He suffered a slight 'wardrobe malfunction' in that he opted to wear thin, quick-dry pants with no 'protection' against the abusive saddle.
At a walk we were fine, but the minute the guide picked up speed Jimmie jumped against the lead horses hindquarters in an attempt to shove it out of his way, Eileen's horse (being towed by the guide) was unintentionally and perpetually in Big Jim's way and Eileen and I were knocking together like the abused cohoney's of the guy behind us, that being Ryan. Dave followed along on his personality-free nag and yelled conversational spanish from 20 feet behind the guide. The wind was blowing, the surf was pounding and it was almost impossible to have a conversation no matter what language you were speaking, but it was indescribably important to Dave to ask this kid about everything under the sun, at which point the kid would turn around so he could hear Dave, Jimmie would make a grab for the front seat, Eileen's horse would pick up some centrifugal force and spin around behind the guide and the guide's own horse, who was the idiot among them all, would begin to dance around like a bolt had come loose somewhere. Ryan's horse, just for fun, would stand still and bounce in place, having discovered the secret of his riders misery and assumingly, enjoying the sound of whimpering.

At some point it became more than obvious that Eileen's little legs were too short for the stirrups. This was evidenced by the fact that aforementioned legs were bouncing along at a 90 degree angle to her hips, like a tiny lego-lady, bent in half. The stirrups were shortened as much as possible, but resulted in the same effect, and so for Eileen, the ride was over.
Jose' radioed back to the ranch and just as the sun was setting, rescue came. Eileen and the ranch owner blazed off together on his ATV, she clinging to his back as they roared over the dunes. We could hear the screaming laughter for miles and Dave suddenly looked as if the dangers of this situation were only now becoming known to him, like a candy had suddenly turned sour in his mouth, the idea of his Sweetie pie alone with a bunch of wrangling Mexicans surprised him and apparently didn't sit well.
He was quiet (which, for Dave, means a less animated conversation) for the rest of the ride. Ryan's horse did his best to keep the pace at an even trot, effectively sterilizing my husband and ruining his vocal cords to operate at a frequency that only dogs could hear. Jimmie was forever pushing for the front and when we once again hit the open beach after touring around some old buildings above the dunes, Big Jim was set to run. Muscle and previous experience with Big Dumb Animals, had prepared me for this luckily, and I was able to keep him at a dancing, gyrating trot/gallop the whole way back.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Eileen was enjoying the exclusive attentions of the ranch owner and his men, who were lavishing her with conversation and cold, carbonated beverages. Dave, Ryan and myself, the resident Wrangling Hero's, made an uneventful, yet lovely, trip back along the beach and through the palm groves near the corrals.
We joined Eileen on the veranda just as the sun was setting. The perfect end to a truly great day.

Proof that they did it.


Our 16-year-old guide, Jose'.


The Muffin Man. (with a cameo from Dave)

And so our sunset tour ends and I for one was totally happy. I now want to live in Cabo and am thinking Ryan may have difficulty getting me back onto the return flight....hmm...
One last picture of me and Jimmie (note the crazy 'I-just-rode-100-mph-on horseback' hair I'm sporting.

Great, great day.

Sunset, Sunrise- a few meals and suddenly it's Thursday.



*Please stay tuned for next weeks episode of Baja Tuesday's...Horse power, horsepower and The Secret in The Sand, Part II

Baja Tuesday's...A JourneyThrough Hilarity

ATV's, ATM'S and the Infamous Water Taxi

Allow me to introduce you to Juan, one of the nice cabana boys who brought us drinks and was generally always about either at our hotel or at the beach club. Because our hotel was located in a packed and bustling marina (we loved that), guests were required to take a free water taxi to a sandy paradise a few minutes away. Said paradise was peopled with browning vacationers, very few children and a number of chaise lounges and umbrellas.

Also of note- the supply of Coronas and quesadillas which were part of our All-Inclusive package. Quite often Juan shared our water taxi and made lively and entertaining conversation for the five minutes we were aboard. We saw him so often that he began calling mom and pop K., 'mama' and 'papa' and of course Ryan and I were then, hermana and hermano, brother and sister. Other vacationers, like the confused guy in the first picture, could not understand the relationship between the white tourists and this mexican kid. But darn it, he was cute and funny and we took him in. He is now Juan K.
The water taxi was a thing to behold, a plain wooden boat with a makeshift canopy. Getting into the taxi was easy, a gentle step down from the boardwalk and into the hands of a good looking driver. This was lost on Dave and Ryan who refused to hold hands with anyone but Eileen and I.
Getting out of the taxi at the beach was another issue altogether, and back in again from the beach club a feat even beyond that. There is no dock at the beach club. Boating enthusiasts and people who are still in their 20's, know that you simply vault yourself over the bow and into the sand below. (Boats are tall when they're not in the water) Getting back in is done essentially the same way for the guys, one hand on the edge of the bow and you vault yourself back in.
Let me tell you, I was pretty impressed with myself when we landed that first time at the beach and I easily cleared the low rim of the bow and landed deftly on the white sand. I wore a little jean skirt over my bathing suit and not one drop of water splashed onto it, so gifted was I at this getting out of the boat thing. Eileen allowed herself to be aided by all the waiting mexican men and was gently lowered to the ground like a true lady. It was when we had spent the afternoon tanning, drinking and swimming and were ready for our return trip that my ego was quickly deflated.
I'll let you in on a little secret, the jean skirt was not a fashion statement, but a concession to the fact that I no longer have a bikini body that can just be flaunted about. It happens to all of us and I hadn't worked out much in recent months. Unfortunately, it's nearly impossible to get back into a boat that comes up to your chest when wearing a skirt of any kind, let alone one that's a bit, shall we say, snug. And so, my valiant vault from the vessel was disgraced by my inability to get back in. In the end, Eileen and I were both helped by the cabana boys (with only a modicum of laughter on their part) and were eventually able to ROLL OURSELVES into the waiting taxi. Being in your 20's does not help when all anyone can see from their spot on the beach is flailing white legs and a denim covered butt trying helplessly to shimmy into a boat.
We comforted ourselves with the knowledge that we would never see these people again, except of course, for the many other trips we would take over to the beach via water taxi to repeat the whole embarrassing display. But really, who's counting? Eventually I learned that in Mexico, they just want to see your body and they don't care if your a size 6 or a size 16. At first this was very unnerving, the ogling, but I have to say, it does a lot for a persons self-esteem to get a glance occasionally. I prefer to think they were ogling, and not staring at the crazy white girl. Let's just leave it at that.
As I posted last time, eventually we did give in and take a time-share presentation tour. It lasted an hour longer than it was supposed to but did include breakfast and mainly consisted of being shown around a gorgeous resort. The pressure at the end was annoying, but it was quickly nipped in the bud when we explained that we were actually poor. We were given our vouchers for all of our wonderful activities and were escorted out a back gate into a filthy side street. I have a feeling that the folks who signed a lease probably were taken back to their hotels in a private jet.
We were told we could go down to our beach club, which fortunately was at the base of this resort, and wait for the water taxi. UN-fortunately, the water taxi's ran every hour on the hour and it was now exactly 5 minutes past. He'd already been there and gone and we would have to wait 55 minutes for the next one. Clad in nice clothes and not having thought to bring bathing suits (we were told we would be taken back by shuttle, the same way we were picked up), it seemed we were going to be stuck sweltering on the beach. At this point, adventure or not, I am plotting ways to do in the lovely Violet.

Like all good Kendall's, we revolt, and start walking. How far could it be, really? Just up the beach, around the jetty and then it's a quiet stroll through the marina where there's plenty of shopping and restaurants.
ahem..right.




*Dave fixing Eileen's shoe on The Long Walk Back*

Beaches are funny things. They, for some unknown reason, always look shorter than they are. WE WALKED FOREVER until finally coming to a paved path that led to the marina. Even I was exhausted, but Eileen looked as if she might just sit down and wilt. It was well over 90 degree's and trudging through the sand in nice clothes was just not her cup of tea. We'd left the beach club almost an hour before and were still not even half way back to our resort (marina's look smaller than they are, too). Eileen and Dave find a shady Cantina to sit in and have a drink and we formulate a plan. Ryan and I will go back to the resort, find Violet, give her merry hell, and demand that she send a taxi to pick up the Sr.'s.
45 minutes later, out of breath and exhausted, we reach the front desk at the resort where I use the phone to call hotel management. I am going over the heads of the hostesses. Somehow, the conversation ends with me apologizing and feeling as if they are doing me a great favor, but with the agreement that they will send someone for the parents. At that precise moment, Dave and Eileen come sauntering through the lobby looking refreshed and relaxed. They've hired their own cab and are now on their way to the pool.
"Are you telling me that I just ran more than a mile in flip flops and a skirt in 90 degree heat to SAVE YOUR LIFE and you didn't even need it??????!!!"
" Relax. Let's go eat lunch." Dave shrugs his shoulders in that way he does. The twitch is back, but only momentarily. There's a pina colada upstairs with my name on it.
Later, when we have recovered, we pile our vouchers on Dave and Eileen's bed and look excitedly at one another.
"Ok." says Ryan who is none the worse for wear after the long hike back even though he eats nothing but junk food and never exercises. "What are we going to do first?"
Eileen and I have already paid for a private horseback ride on the beach, so it stands only to schedule our freebee's. ATV's, a glass bottomed boat tour, a dinner cruise and tandem massages for Eileen and I.
"First things first," I tell him. " I notice you haven't been tipping. Why aren't you tipping?"
"I don't have pesos."
"There's a currency exchange downstairs. We can get some money right now."
"There's a problem with that."
"What? What problem??"
"I don't have any dollars either."
"You got $200 in Phoenix, what do you mean you don't have dollars?"
"Well, I didn't exactly get the money in Phoenix."
"You didn't?! What were you doing while I was in the bathroom?"
" I bought a muffin."
"A muffin?!"
This exchange continues for awhile, with us eventually becoming pretty ticked at one another and Ryan going to find an ATM. Easier said than done apparently as it is two hours before he returns. There is no ATM in our hotel lobby and the ATM at the bank across the street is out of order. He has had to speak to several mexican police officers in order to locate another ATM that carries dollars. This ATM is halfway across town. He has had to jog there.
By the time he returns it is almost dinnertime and our entire first day in Cabo has been spent running around town (literally) in the baking sun. I am trying to find a way to pin this whole ATM fiasco on Violet as well, but haven't thought just how to manage that yet, when Ryan arrives. He is exhausted, but now has money and a pretty good mental map of Cabo San Lucas.
And thus our first day in Cabo comes to a close. We eat dinner at the hotel buffet and eventually retire to the Sr.'s room for more pinochle and mini bar beverages. The evening ended well and though this hotel did not boast a farting bed, the view was enough to make up for the lack of it. (I'm including here, a picture from the room at sunrise. If I posted one of sunset- you would see nothing but dark water.)


The Pinochle game is rowdy and peppered with crude humor and personal insults (is there any other way to play??) and we are sure the occupants of other rooms can hear us. They are making enough noise of their own so we don't worry. The sounds of Cabo nightlife mix with those of the sea and the marina and drift up to our balcony. There are about 15 cantina's below our room and we can hear all the conversations at once in a laughing melody of voices. The balcony doors are open and a breeze is moving the sheers.
In spite of the time share issue, the ATM fiasco and the heat- there is really nothing like this place. Tomorrow we will be swimming in the Sea of Cortez and riding horses on the beach at sunset. I look at Ryan and forgive him for buying a muffin when he should have been visiting an ATM. The activity vouchers lay on the dresser and the ATV brochure is on top. I know what the guys are thinking about and decide right then to join them. No way they're having that kind of fun without me... and it all begins tomorrow.

*please stay tuned for next weeks episode of Baja Tuesdays... Horsepower, Horse power and the Secret in the Sand.

Baja Tuesday's...A Journey Through Hilarity

When we left off last week, I believe we had just made our way into the Los Cabos airport and been greeted by the oh-so-friendly airport staff. Now, you have to understand that the minute following the booking of this trip I began researching Mexico and Cabo in particular, the do's and don't's and so forth. And the one thing I found particularly helpful was the 'what to do' section on my receipt from Grayline, the company who ran the shuttle service to our hotel. In very large, bold letters at the bottom of the page is says quite clearly, DO NOT TALK TO ANYONE WHO APPROACHES YOU IN THE AIRPORT. THEY ARE TIME SHARE SHARKS AND WILL ONLY TRY TO TALK YOU INTO A PRESENTATION. GO IMMEDIATELY OUTSIDE AND LOOK FOR A DRIVER IN A GRAYLINE UNIFORM. Seriously, that's what it said. Somehow, and it's no wonder with all the crazy travel roadblocks we'd experienced thus far, I neglected to share this bit of information with my traveling companions. Especially Dave.
Something I learned on this trip: Dave likes to get things for free. I mean, who doesn't, right? But I'm telling you, he's serious about it. So when we get through customs and into the main lobby and the man in the nice uniform asks if he can help him find his transportation, he quickly proffers his Grayline receipt and follows the man to the counter, behind which is a GIANT sign for a resort. Now, my antenna have gone up the minute the man approached us, but I said nothing. Too late now to discreetly tell Dave that his new friend was a con man. Several minutes go by while this man and Dave shoot the breeze.
I look at Ryan and Eileen and they shrug. No help there. We're on a schedule here people! Our shuttle will leave eventually no matter HOW much we've paid them to take us to the hotel. I think these things, but do not say them. My blood pressure is rising and I'm looking at my watch. It's taken longer to get through security than I thought it would and we have five minutes before we have to meet our driver.
Now the man is laughing and talking to Dave about a bottle of Tequila, complimentary. Do we like Tequila?? Of course, he says...best way to learn Spanish, he says...and on and on. Oh, and do the ladies like massage??? Well, he'll write us a coupon for one of those as well. Free. No charge.
And how about a cruise? Beautiful sunset, free drinks, can't beat the price which is again, free.
He's writing these coupons and handing them to Dave. All we have to do is take a taxi over to a certain resort in Cabo and let them show us around...then we're outa there and off to all our free stuff. I'm pulling on Eileen's shirt like a two year old and checking and rechecking my watch as if somehow it can help me out of this mess.
"Eileen, we have to go." Dave is still talking. He's so relaxed it's KILLING me. Fifteen minutes go by and I'm getting downright antsy. She shrugs again. She's not the kind of woman to stomp away without her husband. That's very nice of her, but I have no such inhibitions.
Quite loudly and with faked authority I say, "Ok. Thank you very much. We HAVE TO GO NOW!" Dave and the man look surprised. I can tell the guy is trying to be polite even though there is a WOMAN telling men what to do. This is a big no-no in their culture and Dave's not too happy about it either. I weigh my options and make a decision. Dave loves me and will not kill me probably, so I turn on my heel and stomp away through a set of sliding doors that I pray will get me out of there. I hear Eileen laugh and make niceties to the man I've just ousted. Ryan is probably embarrassed, but I don't look back to see, and given the fact that he hasn't been tremendously helpful, I'm not sorry about it either. I'm pretty sure everyone's following and soon they're with me. Dave does not look happy.
The doors take us into another foyer-like room with counters on both sides. More pictures of resorts and yep, more overly polite young men offering to help us find our shuttle. My body language is becoming threatening, I can tell.
"What shuttle are you looking for, Sir?" An obnoxious young man asks Dave.
"Uh...Grayline." Dave answers, but I can tell he's getting wise to their schemes.
"Grayline, that's us! We're right over here at this counter. Come on over and I'll get you set up for your shuttle." Uh-huh. Right.
Amazingly however, Dave and now Ryan are listening to his ploy and within seconds are standing in front of the counter with this young man who is promising them everything under the sun for a time share presentation. "Just an hour of your time for So many gifts! Can't pass it up!"
After another several minutes at this counter, I'm getting fed up. Dave is still waving the yellow slips and this man is promising to do all that we were promised by the guy in the other room and MORE, he says.
More time passes. Now I'm nothing but mad. We have been traveling for days on little to no sleep, terrible food and enough coffee to power the Seattle area for weeks. Acid reflux is only the beginning of the things that are going wrong with my body at this point and frankly, ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! I am having a full blown temper tantrum now (not pretty, I know).
"Ryan we have to go. I'm serious. The shuttle is going to leave without us. We're almost 25 minutes late." My voice is low and dangerous. He knows this sound and looks worried.
"Dad," he says to Dave. "We gotta go. We need to catch the shuttle."
The man behind the counter interrupts, "We are grayline! We get you to your shuttle!" He's trying to be reassuring and it's all so confusing, but my daddy taught me to spot BS (mainly because he dished so much out himself) and I knew a conjob when I saw one, even if Dave was too polite to turn his back on someone who was talking to him.
"I. AM. LEAVING! I don't want a time share presentation! I want a drink and a pool!" I am as fed up with Dave's courtesy as with the time share shark, but I love him and will not kill him probably.
I turn on my heel (again) and head for the door that has daylight on the other side. I hope that Ryan and his parents are following, and soon see Eileen trotting along beside me. They are with me after all. Behind us, the shark yells to Ryan, loud enough for the entire room of people to hear, "Don't you know how to control your woman!?" Ryan turns slowly around to face the little brown man... (This sounds sensationalized, but I swear to you it's the truth)
There is something we all need to keep in mind about Ryan. He has been studying different fighting styles since childhood and has a tremendous ego (not unlike all men everywhere), which is not a good combination. Fortunately, the fates and mom and dad K., instilled in him also, a boundless sense of honor. So rather than turning the small mexican person inside out- he just took my hand and proudly left the airport with his crazy, twitching, out of control, obsessively punctual, feminist wife. God love him. I might have added drooling to the list of body malfunctions by this time, but honestly, I've blocked it out.
It is 900 degree's and there are 400 people milling about a small outdoor courtyard waiting presumably, for transport to their hotels. We ask about and soon someone in a Grayline uniform appears. He does not ask us to sit through a presentation or offer us free Tequila. The guys a winner as far as I'm concerned and soon we are in an air conditioned shuttle with a group of twenty-somethings who all have drinks in their hands. It's a shock to most Americans to see that public drinking is A-OK south of the border, but you get used to it and we actually started to enjoy it after awhile.
Dave is in the front seat speaking Spanish with the driver. He's probably telling him about his rude and inconsiderate daughter-in-law. I blow the hair off my forehead and lean back against the seat. We're almost there, I keep telling myself. We're almost there.
And soon, the road bends in front of us and the sea spreads it's cerulean waters along our horizon. There are the biggest cacti I have ever seen growing right along side the road, their thorny arms reaching heavenward. Here is the sand and the palms and the surf. I breathe and feel like crying. Eileen is sitting next to me and we are excitedly pointing at the strange desert beauty all around us. And that's when I get it. We are on vacation, we are together, the whole trip is an adventure. How boring it would have been if our flight in Portland had not been canceled. How dull to make it to your destination exactly as planned with no bumps along the way... And the fight to get there makes arriving all the more beautiful, more meaningful, because then it's not just a nice place to be, it's everything for which you've struggled and dreamed and also the reason you have ruined good boots pulling 60 year olds through airports.
We are the only ones on the shuttle when it arrives at the Tesoro Resort on the marina, having dropped off the Drinking Twenties at their own palatial resort a few miles away. We unload our bags and saunter into the foyer with it's soaring ceilings and tropical decor. Check-in is easy and relaxed. There are no lines and the staff is smiling.
We are seated by our hostess, Violet, and are served champaign from a silver tray.
"Welcome to Los Cabos!" she says and seats herself across from us. We weren't expecting this formal introduction. A key, a wristband maybe, but not this. How nice???
She has a packet in her hands. My antenna go up. I take a deep breath and remember that we are on an adventure and if I stomp away, I might miss something amazing.
" Let me tell you about our sister hotel across the bay. You like snorkeling? Sunset cruise? Massage for the ladies?? I will give it all to you for free!" Her bright smile is so hopeful.

Well, I think as I sip my champaign, if you're going to have an adventure, you might as well do it for free...

*Please stay tuned for next week's episode of Baja Tuesday's... ATV's, ATM's and the infamous water taxi

Baja Tuesday's...a bit delayed

Well, due to this week being the week my husband decided to redo all the wiring in our house and have a minor elective surgery, things are a bit wacked around here and Baja Tuesday's is unfortunately delayed. I'll be posting it as usual next week and we'll just pick it up from there. My FIL (Father-In-Law) has threatened to post his version of the same story in the comment pages but has yet to make good on it...let's all hope he actually does it as it would make Baja Tuesdays all the better :)
In the mean time, we'll be up to our elbows in knob and tube wiring and ice packs (for the surgery recovery, not the electrical...although...you never know) So pray for his safety if you think of it and I'll meet you back here next week!