Baja, Mexico: Cabo (Day 8: 12/28, Sunday, 2 of 2)

We leave the Mango Deck with plans (for Eric) to rejoin the Party People on a booze cruise. I didn't think locals did booze cruises, but then again, I'm just a simple girl.

I, on the other hand, have opted out.

Whilst Eric is off boozing and cruising (and dancing and, as it turns out, whale watching), I wend my way down to the famed Cabo Wabo for a looksy (super branded and disneyfied), then to a lil plaza cum food court cum tourist trap.

I mosey through stalls of souvenir t-shirts, sarongs, silver, and stuff made out of straw. None of which is particularly appealing.

What are appealing are the fish tacos at Taco Loco, which is probably just another one of those bullshit places where gringos eat, but shit, homes, I can dig it.

I wish I could say that I don't take a photograph of my fish tacos and Pepsi Light (food photography being my genetic birthright as an Asian tourist) because I simply have too many photos of aforementioned tacos, but it's mostly because I left my camera in the room, for fear of being robbed.

One of the worker bees is shocked--shocked--that I'm eating alone, but surely women travel alone in Cabo. Non? I smile and shrug my shoulders at the dude, then polish off my dinner for one and end with a cigarette.

I am solo and singularly free. It's the first time I've been alone since our trip began.

One may well be the loneliest number. But I likes it.