I do want to start with the qualifier that while I have never been accused of being a flag-waving American, it is impossible to travel this world and not see the incredible advantage America presents. Just by winning the crapshoot of being born in the USA we are granted the right to earn an hard currency. Didn’t do a damn thing to ear that right, correct? Unless you are a Buddhist and believe in the cycle, but that’s another entire discourse. I won’t bore you with the list of American greatness, but I will add you can open your damn mouth in the shower. The shower! Just open you mouth and drink that water.  It’s that clean, that purified! Seems like a luxury to me. In a few short centuries The USA has made some impressive leaps.

Conversely, I won’t ramble about the last of global awareness, the war against the educated  and refined masquerading as “anti-elitism” , shock-jocks, Bush, etc etc etc….

But we certainly don’t have shit on lock in the states.  We have forgotten what is important, we willingly work ourselves to death in an attempt to win a rat race that alas, as the old saying goes, even if you win, you are still a rat. And we have legislated ourselves into a corner. Laos has something like 49 laws. Total. I’m not suggesting we model ourselves after Laos, after all, we can drink our shower water…but think about that. 49 laws.

Here in Mexico, I see at least 47 kids a day doing things that  Social Services would be called in for in a heartbeat. Kids on roofs. Kids on balconies with no railings. Four kids on a quad with mom driving. Kids riding on Dad’s lap in the front seat. Filthy kids eating sugar, playing in the street, barefoot sometimes, and loving every second of it.  I’m not advocating lack of supervision and/or poverty as a prescription for a healthy childhood, jus’ sayin…these kids are having fun. And they are not flying out of the car, falling off the roof, or perishing from eating dirt.  I know I’m not even really allowed to have these opinions as someone who has opted out of the entire “having children” thing,  but I offer this facet of Mexican culture as a portion of the whole.

The first time I saw American Ski Resort culture through the eyes of some visiting European friends, I finally got “it.” I accept, part and parcel, that when I am using the ski area, I am to remain in bounds. To access unmaintained slopes puts not only me, but all the people who may have to come in after to me to lend me help, in danger. And not doing that, not putting people in danger, that is part of the social contract we have entered into in American ski resorts. “But Why?” said my Euro friends. Why cannot I kill myself on this hill if I want?  And it works elsewhere. We have established this as our way in the US and I will respect that. But it’s not the only way, and I think that is a discussion worth having. Or at least an awareness worth boosting.

I have lots more to say, but the clock is ticking and Josh is waiting for me to bring him an icy cold coca-cola. Hasta Luego!

Please know, and never forget, that in Spanish, “pasta” does not mean noodles. Closest I have come to figuring it is “tiles.” We do our weekly shopping at a fresh greenmarket- it’s pretty heavenly. Piles of fruits and vegetables, ripe and redolent, and our weekly bill for this bounty runs about sixteen bucks.  I shit you not. Today we realized it was the US equivalent of paying for our avocados and getting the rest for free. Whole pineapples, papayas, sweet potatoes, limes, bananas, fresh cut herbs, again… an embarrassment of riches.  The space itself is gorgeous; an old brick building with 25 foot ceilings and giant open windows. It does not trigger my allergy to places without charm. Both gringos and locals shop there and it’s a social outing as well as a grocery mission. Have I mentioned Todos makes Breck look like Mega City One? I digress…  They also stock some dried goods; oats and other grains, rice and beans, etc.  And please note, nothing in this store is of animal origin. OR SO I THOUGHT. I have been feeling fairly confident with the ol’ Espanol, getting by, complements from our teacher on my pronunciation, conversations with native speakers, you know the drill. And while most of my Spanish World happens in the present tense, and has for years, I have even been working on conjugating verbs in other tenses. This is a triumph.  So put these two facts together; confident with the Spanish, and in a temple to the goods of the harvest, I purchase “Pasta de Ruida” -little red wheels of fresh “pasta”, yum.  Looked weird when it hit the water. Really weird. And should have know something was up when I poured out the spent, extra thick water (which drains into one of the coconut palms) and Lou went crazy trying to dig under the mulch to drink it. And it smelled a little weird, and on and on, I made excuses about this fresh pasta. After all, with all the fresh basil and tomatoes and oil and salt I mixed in with it, it really did look lovely. I shared my trepidation with Josh, and we tentatively took a few bites. Then we stopped. The next day I went back to the store and asked. Raw Chicarones. Meant to be deep fried in oil so you can have the very freshest fried pork skins available.  Not good boiled. And not veg. Mistakes will be made.

I wondered if I would be as forgiving as Josh was; after all , I had served him boiled pork skins for dinner. I didn’t have to wait long to find out how I would bear being served an animal surprise. Two days later Josh made oatmeal. We mix it with lots of fresh fruit and local raw honey- divine. Mine seemed to have extra black flakes in it.

“Josh, I think there are bugs in the oatmeal.”

“Nope, definitely not. Those are banana seeds.”

“Are you sure? These seeds seem to have legs.”

“Positive.”

( At this point I hear Paul Sperber clearly in my head: Only a fool is positive. I take one of the seeds and rinse it, bring it back to the table as evidence.)

“Josh, this seed has legs and is segmented.”

“Not bugs, seeds. Swear.”

“Hmmm.”

I’d stopped eating anyway, and walked over to the kitchen to retrieve the bag of oatmeal. The one that was riddled with holes and crawling with “banana seeds.” Presented with the evidence, Josh agreed that there maybe were bugs in the oatmeal and then finished his. He is my perfect companion. Best travelling partner in the world. I wish you all a  Josh in your life. Just not as your chef.

Other mistake include cuting my long neglected bangs in a windstorm, using the truck sideview mirror for alignment. Reminiscent of Miss Lippy. Rent Billy Madison and fast forward to the kindergardenteacher. On the good side, I should not have to tend to said hair again for some time. And if “distance makes the heart grow fonder” is true, then my eyebrows will welcome my bangs back with a huge party when they meet again.

And in dog news, Mini has found her real name. Like other pop culture figures before her, the trip to her motherland teased out her true name. When we first met Mini, we tried many other names and none stuck but Mini. It’s uncreative and not funny, but it just stuck. I thought maybe it the way the spirit of Minnie Roby, who moved in to our house in 1865 and proceeded to have 17 or so children, making her voice heard again in Breck. Mini; whatever, it stuck. Teeter almost renounced her sisterhood when we didn’t choose “Andy Lex.” I understood, Mini was not really a worthy name. But dogs sort of name themselves it seems. And so Mini it was.  But here in Mexico, back with her people, we finally understand. WE were pronouncing it with an American accent. It must be said by a native Spanish speaker to be appreciated. And thus, I reintroduce you to our beloved….MEANY!

And a very happy birthday to Terry Sperber!

And now for the Frequently Asked Questions:

Mom, Dad and Teeter,

No dank nugs here, sorry to disappoint!

And it really is Basil.

The tent is incredibly comfortable. There is a mattress and 3 down comforters and a ridiculously luxe cashmere blanket that Bob Merrill (Mona’s Dad) carried back from Mongolia for us.

We have an outdoor kitchen:

And there is a palapa, and hammocks galore….

Our road is for the birds:

Running water comes from the tinacas on the roof. Water comes to the property once a week. We use about 1/20th of the water in a big week.

You can see the ocean from the shower, but not in this photo:

We even have an indoor toilet!

I hadn’t finished cleaning it in this photo, and I know it doesn’t look it’s greatest, but as I am sure you can imagine I don’t have a large selection of photos of the throne. And did I mention it flushes, with water, and has walls and roof? 5 frikken stars as far as I am concerned.

Even better than I described, right, Teeter?

It’s an embarrassment of riches, actually. But still, I am filled with awful GREED- I want MORE and MORE, everyday, of the….Whales! Ballenas Gris, the Orcas, all of them, I can’t get enough. I know I should be content with all we have been graced, but every day, with every sighting, I JUST WANT MORE. Yesterday there were 4 or 5 pods of Orcas- which aren’t even supposed to be here, right in front of our place. And the Grey Whales- The Ballenas Gris- I get the damn chills. Mini barks at them from the beach, because of course, she thinks she can take on the largest mammal to ever have lived on this Earth.

And other influences, as I am wrapping this up- Kerouac, of course, and Ed Abbey and I thought of a bunch of others on the beach the other day that would strike just the right balance of brainy, independent and not too loony, but I promptly forgot them all…must have been the whales. Or the basil.

And please remember, any and all errors have been added by the automatic error generator after I sign off.

Hasta Luego!

There is a sign up in Todos Santos that says, “Carlos Carlos de Carlos- Real fake Mexican Art.” it hangs above a building that I have never seen open and is written freehand and covered with glitter. I think about how hard Teeter and I would laugh at it if she were here with me. I love it; Carlos Carlos de Carlos has become shorthand for all bad art.

And one more of Josh loving the freedom:

And this basil field is also on the road to the compound. The smell is so strong you can’t help but crave fresh basil every time you go past.

And so it doesn’t seem too hearts and rainbows, here is lovely shot of a little skin issue I developed a few days ago. A little salt water and sand did the trick, it’s just red memory now.

And Momma, I’m sorry I suggested that Sis Aim prepare and serve a fake Christmas dinner of tofu pups in a blanket with peanut butter and burned casserole.  Just my twisted sense of humor. And you are so easy to read and it really would have been very funny, watching your cute face sort of twist up and try to figure out what was going on and who was responsible…I hope you have a lovely dinner and time together and we will miss you. Save us the leftovers. The real ones, not the fake ones.

50 cents!

50 cents worth of basil. Heaven.

We brought our little moto down here…It’s a 1970 Honda CT90- we are almost the same age; I feel an affinity. She is cranky whereas I am not, but I am working on our relationship. Today I took her around Pescadero looking for fresh tortillas; from the reaction on the street, I might guess I was the first gringa to ever ride a motorcycle through Pescadero.  I think of the passage from “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” when the grandmother warns the main character to enjoy the catcalls when she is young, because she’ll miss them when she is old and they stop. All my feminist instincts rally against it, but it sort of makes me smile and I’m certainly not here to change an entire culture. At least not today:)

So here is the beast of a moto, and Josh is modeling his very fashionable matching glasses that make him so happy:

I feel like I missed so much information I’d like to share from the long lapse on the way down that I’ll never catch up.  We met a guy who has been camping under the same tree for 22 winters; he is doing an audit of the entire ecosystem in his little cove in  Conception Bay. We should all love something as much as he loves that little section of the world. He walked the beach three times a day while we were there, picking up pieces of micro-trash. He said he had been working on it for the last month; he celebrated Obama’s victory alone on that beach and has been cleaning ever since…

There are giant buzzards here in Baja. We first started seeing them through the massive desert down the spine of the peninsula and there are a bunch that live in our neighborhood. I tried and failed to get a photo of them; they sit on top of the giant cordon cactus, ominous and regal. I’ll try again today.

I have been thinking a ton about the influences that lead us to the places we go. The majority of my influences are books; Poppa taught me to love the written word almost before he taught me to love chocolate. The Lorax, Ranger Rick Magazine…big moments for my young mind. And in High School I would sit in the library and read early Outside Magazines, and dream of all the places advertised in the back, the little postage stamp sized ads promising worlds of bright colors, exotic peoples, strange flavors, huge mountains and bright blue seas. Hot damn! I had to get there. Not that I didn’t love every moment of football-worshipping high school… And I embarrassed by how much sway Richard Bach has had over me; although I suspect that I love his work because he confirms how I feel, what I believe, and I like the confirmation. Really, if you haven’t read Illusions, how can you haul yourself out of bed in the morning? And there must be something to Jonathan Livingston Seagull for the book to have  been banned in entire countries. Juan Gaviaota is now legal in Guatemala, but this was not always the case.

Not only are Mini and Lou right in the swing of things- Josh loves every minute of the slight chaos that is Mexico. Want to build a fire in the yard? Have at it. Hell, throw some gasolina on there so it really goes!  Want to ride the moto on the wrong side of the road, or in the sand on the shoulder? No one is going to stop you. His little slightly anarchic heart beats strongly under the Baja sun….

And I am pretty happy, too.

the rig!

In Heber, we completed the build of the rig. Can a girl love a truck? Maybe… Without Pash we would have been in world of hurt. Plus he gave Josh his favorite new sunglasses that match the moto. ..and Pash, we pinched a varmin sticker.

That’s my new office…

And the new condo with the best view…

And we had Thanksgiving dinner on the way down, along the Colorado river outside of Needles. Butternut squash and avocados on tortillas. It seemed appropriate.

This campsite on Conception Bay was so amazing we stayed for an extra day.

And our new compound, after some love:

So now that we are “settled” in Pescadero for the time being, and we’ve done the major work to get the place comfortable, and I’ve found the internet ( happy reunion) I will be doing a better job of updating. Sorry for the lapse. I would have gladly traded updating for chasing cockroaches with a broom and bleach water!

So, long time, no post. Not a lot of internet out there in the desert through central Baja. We made it to Todos Santos and El Pescadero last night in time for another spectacular sunset.  We had some amazing camping spots on the way down…in San Quitin, Baja Norte, there were so many dolphins I lost count.  We met a guy in Baja Sur who has been camping under the same tree for the entire winter for the last 22 years. It is sunny and warm. Life is good and so far populated with interesting characters who don’t seem too demented or damaged. Bonus!

We have a lot of work to do to get Tony and Philip’s gorgeous property back up to her potential- and I will have photos of the property next post. We are so grateful and feel so lucky to have such a special place to stay. Today we came into Todos Santos to get the power reconnected and Josh is going to McGuyver the water this afternoon. We should we up and running in a few days!  Listening to the massive crashing of the waves from the tent last night was exhilarating. Truly, I can’t think of a better word.  And I can’t recommend a roof top tent enough.  The penthouse!

The photo essay of the last week; I am a little burnt from the drive, so I’ll let the photos do most of the work for now.

Or not…the connection is not letting me upload; I’ll try again tomorrow!