Dia Cinco

we are slipping deeper and deeper in to the mexican culture. we now speak to each other in only short phrases and hand gestures.

we head south after a wonderful breakfast cooked by our friend, clarita. we say our goodbyes and hit the road, now that we know where it is. as we head out of town, the main road suddenly turns to rutted dirt for a few blocks, then back to pavement. i know there's an answer to the question that springs in to my head, but now is not the time. . .

we hook back up with the transpeninsular and head south once again. except for the cities, there's not much chance of getting lost in baja on the highways, or should i say highway. ;-) as we travel south, we come across a car down off the highway. the man is frantically waving an empty jug and making gestures. ye rides ahead seemingly oblivious to this gentleman's predicament. i slow, slowly. what the heck. . .i stop, waiting for ye to acknowledge my action. i can tell by his body language that he's not too happy with my decision.

decisions are really judgment calls down here. it may be trouble, but what if he genuinely needs help. . . we rode back, off the road and in to the wide ditch where the car sat with it's hood open. we took out our gallon of water, filled up our liter water bottle and then gave the rest to the guy. his mother and wife were sitting in the car. mom said "thanks" in english as we were leaving.

see, no boogey men.

we pulled over later to make some adjustments to our packs, take off jackets or put them on, not sure which.



ye pulls over first, i'm sliding in behind him and know the ground in these pull outs can be quite soft. i slow and begin to look for something solid to put my kickstand on so i don't end up trying to hold my bike up. . .i find a nice piece of what i think is cardboard. when i flip my kickstand down, the cardboard, which is actually a paper towel flips up and what do you know!

POOP!

it never ceases to amaze me the number of fascinating adventures we can encounter in life if we only open ourselves to it. heh. poop.

so in the true adventure touring spirit that i am becoming, i grabbed my camera as a million punchlines sprang to mind. i, of course, called ye over to marvel at my discovery before we mounted once again.





we rode through ciudad insurgentes and then ciudad constitucion where we stopped for gasolina. this is where i figured out the pemex ploy. see, if a pemex station has a convenience store attached, the restrooms did not have toilet paper. they would expect you to go in to the store and buy a roll to use. i've traveled enough to know to bring my own. . .this one had a convenience store. ;-)



we headed toward la paz because we had to in order to get to cabo. when we came over the hill there sat the most beautiful green bay i've ever seen. as blue as concepcion bay was, that's how green la paz's bay was. another marvel. we came in to town and were trying to navigate our way through town.

we came up from behind and passed a guy on a cruiser. i later learned it was actually a tricked out old 4 cylinder gold wing with pipes and chrome and looked and sounded remarkably harley-ish. we waved as we passed, he putted along behind. we turned, turned again, and again, and again. . .ad nauseum until. . .ye stops, flips up his visor, consults his gps one last time before announcing, "okay, we're lost."

argh. let's see, in a foreign city, foreign country, grunts and gestures, residential area. . .how were we going to get out of this one, alice?

no sooner did the thought cross my mind and mr. goldwing-turned-harley putts around the corner. i didn't hear all of the exchange because of my earplugs, but did see the chest thumping and "follow me" wave of the hand. and we're off. . .

we went through sand washes (which btw were in the middle of town), through alleys, across drainage pipes until this motorcycle angel delivers us right back to the highway we were originally seeking.

there are some things that can be explained, and then there are some that you just lean back and say a quiet amen. this was the latter. . .my only regret was that i didn't stop and get to know him a little better and snap his picture. we'll find him next time, no doubt.

we hooked up with highway 19 to make the loop down through the cabos and back up the east side of the peninsula. before we were to reach cabo, we stopped for the evening in todo santos.

todo santos is an artsy town on the pacific side. we pulled over as ye consulted lonely planet once again for a place to have linner. (lunch/dinner combo) he checks the book, checks the gps, checks the map. rechecks all three and says, it should be. . right. .about. . .here! and points to the other side of the street. heh, perfect!

so we whipped around, dismounted and entered the cafe. it was a sand lot between two houses with a palapa roof. it was cool and dark and smelled divine. fish tacos was first and foremost on our minds.




ye began to refer to our money as "fun coupons" and was beginning to worry that we wouldn't have enough given that we were moteling instead of the planned camping. well, may as well get the most out of them, i say!




when i reviewed the last picture, i realized it looked like the fish that was mounted on the wall behind ye appeared as though it was actually stabbing him in the head. when i told him this, we just had to get another shot.



and now for the telephoto shot. heh. after 10 years he still makes me laugh.




this was our most excellent waiter, ricardo. we asked for tacos de pescados. he told us they didn't sell that but, he would give us the garlic butter baked fish, some sides and the tortillas and we could make our own. out of that one dinner i think we had about 10 tacos combined. they. were. marvelous!! Mariscos Mi Costa, can't say enough about it. you simply must experience it.

we decided after our linner it was time to find a place to rest our fish swollen bodies for the night. any further south and we were going to run in to the hyper inflated cabo san lucas room rates.

again we consulted lonely planet and headed to hotel miramar.

lp mentioned the hotel had only limited ocean views from the 2nd floor, but even that was the best you were going to find in town. it's clean and reasonably priced, if basic. if basic? that's a euphemism, isn't it. . .



this is the courtyard. when we first drove through the gate, there was this hideous shreiking sound. sounded the the buzzer in a mcdonald's, you know, "fries are done." apparently it was to notify everyone within a 1 mile radius that someone had entered the property. we were to hear that many, many, more times.




remember that decor at the baja outpost? that was simulated, this was the real thing, baby! this chair isn't weathered looking, it's just weathered.



a shot of the parking lot from our room. note, there is a pool. we later asked juan, who's english was better than mine, how deep the pool was. he said he really didn't know how many feet it was, "we mexican's aren't very tall, so even if it's over our heads, it's still not that deep." he was a great addition to the evening.



there is just something about mexico. the vibrant color of the room was one thing, but i just can't figure out what happened to the light fixture over the one bed. was it ever finished, or did it quit working and get taken down. all things mexican are either in a state of being built or in the process of disintegration. i think catching it at it's pinnacle would be a feat.



a shot of the exotic raised bathroom.




remember the second story ocean view that lonely planet mentioned? well, here it is.



and here it is again with the telephoto engaged.



this is the answer. the question must have been "now, how are we going to hang that shower curtain from that rod?"

hmmmmmm. i guess it's a matter of priorities. mine are obviously skewed. we had monogrammed towels in our room. they had a big HM in the corner of each towel (no washcloths, of course) written with thick, black, magic marker.



this was our sunset. somehow those shower curtain hooks and monogrammed towels didn't much matter.



and this is young, master raymundo. he turned 7 over this holiday and his family (who also owned the motel) were gathering to celebrate not only Easter, but his birthday.

we sat that night with his family down around the sizzling pot of grease that was frying up their chicken. ye and i were drinking our snack with XX on the side. juan kept us entertained the entire evening. his english was the best. i'm afraid the rest of the family was quite bored with us, but we never let that stop us.

one interesting bit of the conversation. . .juan and his wife live in tecate. when he learned of our travels he said he wished he could get his wife to do that, but he said she was too afraid to camp. what?!? it's your country, at "least" you can speak the language!

what a shame. i guess it doesn't matter where you live if it's in fear.

tomorrow? the cabos!