Baja, Mexico: Cabo (Day 9: 12/29, Monday)

It's here that my notes from the trip go from tight, geometric scribbling, verging on the cross-hatching they used to do to save on postage--you know, when they used to write a letter, then turn the page 90 degrees and continue...

What was I saying?

Anyway, it's here that my notes go from tight, geometric scribbles to intermittent scrawls trailing across the white vista of my Lonely Planet "Notes" page. I suppose it's just the product of the ineluctable languor of the End of (Vacation) Days, the eschatology of Good Times.

No, that's too simple. It's...I'm not...

I'm not inured to the New Experience of International Travel as an Adult ('though I suppose Mexico is not exactly a far-flung locale), exactly, but I'm filled to the brim. As an incurable introvert, the receptivity that travel requires, receptivity to uncertainty, new people, places, is overwhelming after a while.

It'd be hard to keep up with Eric, who's my polar opposite, energy-wise. Fortunately, he's blown off some steam with the 24 Hour Party People, and while he peels himself off a strange couch and finds his way home from wherever he was, I dine on huevos con chorizo and some purported papaya drink that tastes strangely like orange juice.

Hungover Eric and rested, but travel-surfeited Nancy have found equilibrium, and we're both ready for a day at the beach, one recommended by a colleague of his, an administrator who has a summer home in San Jose del Cabo. SJDC and Cabo San Lucas make up, for all intents and purposes, one big travel destination, and are connected by "The Corridor," a scenic stretch of the Transpeninsular on which you can meet your untimely end by your own drunken hands (or someone else's).



We spend the day taking "laying out," taking facebookian photos of Eric, and are lucky enough to glimpse another fusillade of rays ejecting themselves out of the ocean.

We're joined by a gaggle of gay men, Rick, who owns a home with Luc, Rich and Rick, house guests of Rick, and Alberto, who also owns a home in SJDC. Everything is mostly awesome, like 99% awesome, except for the fact that the situation only reifies my inability to relate to MSW (men who have sex with women), but I suppose that is another entry (or blog) altogether.

The day ends at Taqueria Mexico, an open air restaurant designed to look like a palapa.



I dine, and dine well, on a Coca Cola Light and fish and shrimp tacos, heavily garnished with salsa, creamy guacamole, cabbage, and pico de gallo...



and an order of papas asadas.