Baja, Mexico: El Rosario -> Catavina (Day 2: 12/22, Monday, Part 1 of 2)

We bust out of town for Catavina and food--somewhere we can leave memories of reconstituted squid far, far behind.

We land in a camping ground called Rancho Santa Ines, which, despite it's foul bathroom conditions--no working light, no toilet paper, and the stench of a hundred shits--had some of the best food we ate on the trip.

The following, huevos con chorizo with fresh tortillas, was a terror and a delight. We dug in with gusto, while I looked bemusedly at the strange green thing on the lid of the plastic tortilla container.



"What. is. that?"



Ah, a centuries-old moldy tortilla, probably left from the days of the Amerindians who made the trek down the peninsula. I grimace, then notice pale green spots on the tortilla I'm holding, and start picking what I assume is mold off the tortilla because I'll be damned if I stop eating. Fortunately, it's just the color of burn marks seen from the translucency of the flip side (what? Tortillas are not supposed to be dense discs of flour that come out of plastic bags at your local supermarket?).

I dig back in.

We spend the rest of the day wandering around the local desert landscape, granite boulders, massive cacti about forty feet high, a lovely little arroyo still trickling with collected water, and cirios, another form of cacti oft-described as looking like an "upside-down carrot." We're looking for the cave paintings but see only graffiti. Eric teaches me some kind of card game--gin?--as well as his ghetto form of Scrabble--Take?--at which I lose time and time again, and feel very stupid.

We go on another brief hike, at which point I make some nervous queries about the holes in the ground. What made those holes? Scorpions? Eric comes to the conclusion that it's tarantulas, then, as I continue to lag, intermittently turns to kick bits of cactus spines at me, screaming, "tarantula," while I squeal in horror.

Funny.

But, lo and behold, as we're making our way back, I spot something curled right underneath E.

I'm unable to generate any actual words and manage to yelp an "aaarghagh," while Eric leaps like a marionette into the air. It's a tarantula.

I mention the concept of karma in between gasps of air and tears, hunched over and laughing the entire way back.