Paul took a trip this week, to Cabo San Lucas, where he is
selling the house that we have owned for more than 15 years. One might ask why we would take family
vacations in a town that is known for roving drunks, prostitutes and errant
spring breakers frolicking on the beach under the watchful eyes of police with
machine guns. Well, no place is perfect.
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| Perfect? No. Perfect moments? Yes. |
I’ll tell you a little known secret about Cabo (besides the
fact that they have cockroaches and scorpions you can saddle.) When all the drunken fishermen stumble
home at closing time, and all of the coed vomit is hosed off the sidewalk, families
emerge to eat at some of the most kid friendly restaurants and play on some of
the most beautiful beaches on earth.
Like most beach resorts, Cabo has a variety of playthings
for tourists. ATVs, parasailing,
scuba diving and snorkeling, jet skis, glass bottom boats and fishing charters
are everywhere, as are the incessant beach vendors hawking “silver” jewelry and
Cabo (via China) souvenirs. But
there was much more.
Cabo is, I’m told, one of the greatest fishing spots in the
world. I’m not a fish person, but
even I enjoyed watching the boats fan out jauntily out across the Pacific every
morning and come home with their flags flying, signaling their success each
evening. Our girls loved to cast
lines out into the surf from the deserted beach that graced our community. We caught some pretty odd specimens
that way-- from the scary fish with buck teeth and the evil eye that the kids
named “Butch” before throwing back--to the pretty tuna that Grandma then beat
to death and cut into sushi while I cringed and crept to my room. Sometimes
Paul would go out with friends to fish, and they would take their catch from
the boat directly to the sushi bar, where it would be prepared in a myriad of
ways that seemed to bring them to the verge of, well, let’s say nirvana.
We found lots of ways to play in Cabo, on many trips that
ranged from a few days to more than a month. Sure, we visited the main beach restaurants and dug our toes
in the sand while watching our kids play in the surf a few feet away. But we also ate at back street
restaurants, shopped at local stores and bought the kids fresh mangos on a
stick from street vendors. My
favorite outing was always to the open-air restaurant a little way out of town.
Paul and I could relax while the kids risked tetanus on the rusty
swing set and tried to woo the many mangy looking cats who lived there.
Things didn’t always go well in Cabo. There was the time that the Defender got
a flat in the desert between La Paz and Cabo. But we got to meet a Federal, who helped us change the tire
and offered us water. There was
the time that Lia was bitten by a jellyfish in the warm water off the lonely East
Cape and it took us 20 minutes to find help, with Paul driving like a maniac
over washboard dirt tracks, honking at errant goats and cows in the road. But we got to spend the afternoon at a
remote fisherman’s retreat, the beautiful stone patio empty except for
the lovely ladies who cared for my daughter’s swollen leg and stopped her
crying with some sweets.
We loved having friends and family come down to stay with
us, and we enjoyed the neighbors we grew to know. I will enjoy the memories of them...cooking together, having beers on the terrace,
and watching as they crowded into the convertible VW bugs that were for many years
the primary rental car in Cabo.
Some friends got into a bit of trouble—L was robbed by a prostitute, B
got drunk and decided on the wrong tattoo and P drank the water at the wrong
restaurant. But mostly people had a nice time, and we had nice visits.
The Baja has changed.
Twenty years ago there was one stop light between the airport and town
(though livestock had the right of way.)
The town was gritty, the food was simple and the homes were a
bargain. We watched as the corridor between San Jose del Cabo and Cabo San Lucas was developed by hotel
chains, huge tracts of vacation housing were constructed on the beautiful East
Cape and cruise ships pushed for easier access, campaigning to dredge the
delicate ecosystem of the cape waters. When a Costco opened outside of town,
followed by a Home Depot we knew that the little village was as much a memory
as our children’s toddler years.
Paul called. He
said that he still hears the children’s feet on the marble steps, and their
splashing in the pool. But just as
Cabo has grown up, so have our kids.
And just like Cabo, it’s time to change.
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| Did you close the gate? |
Thank you Paul, for making these memories, and so many more.
