Baja-humbug to You, Too

The first signal that our vacation (to the Baja Peninsula) last week wasn’t going as well as we’d hoped was when I realized on the way to the airport that I’d forgotten to pack my camera. I’d remembered to include the little gizmo that allows me to transfer files from the camera to my laptop, just not the camera itself. But I’m an optimist, and I figured I could get copies of our friends’ photos.

The flight was smooth. We retrieved our bags, and as we waited in the customs line, I turned to my husband and said, “So where are your golf clubs?” Turned out they had mysteriously missed the flight, even though the rest of our luggage had not. Only an hour later, we emerged with a promise from the airline to deliver the clubs by the end of the next day.

We found the shuttle to our hotel easily enough, and as we headed to the front desk to check in, the strap broke on my purse – my only purse (after all, who packs multiple purses for a trip to the beach?). But we let the bellman carry our suitcases, so I just clutched at the broken bag and decided it was a good excuse to buy one there.



Then we got to our room. The walk was so long, I figured we must be close to the beach. I looked out the window, and there it was: the hotel laundry. You know, you can just take so much before you let someone have it, and that day, it was the hotel clerk. I left my husband to guard the luggage, and headed back to the lobby, where I announced, in a fairly loud voice, that our room was “Horrible!” and I sure hoped they could find a better one, because we weren’t staying in that one.

The trip got much better at that point. And in fact, we had a lovely time. Something about venting to the hotel clerk just makes you feel better. The weather was perfect; the new room was, while not perfect, very acceptable; the beach was clean and wide, with water a color of teal that you just had to touch. And the food was spectacular, with lots of seafood and fresh fruits and veggies. And I got an adorable straw bag decorated with little bits of shell to replace the one with the broken strap.

So if you’re ever in Cabo San Lucas, be sure to insist on a room with a good view, because there are plenty of them. And rent a car so that you can drive up the Pacific coast to a tiny artists’ colony called Todos Santos (home of the famed Hotel California), where you MUST eat at a place called Café Santa Fe. An oasis of cool, where you’ll feast on fried calamari so light and delicately crisp, it practically evaporates in your mouth; caprese salad with fresh, fresh, creamy mozzarella; perfectly grilled grouper in a velvety smooth butter sauce; and fresh pasta like the linguini with baby clams that I had or the spinach and goat cheese ravioli with sage butter that a friend had. Dessert is a must as well: either the lighter-than-air tiramisu or the mango sorbet that was so redolent of the fruit that we ordered extra for the trip back to Cabo.

And while we were gone, it apparently snowed – in Austin! I’m thinking maybe we’ll escape next winter, too. When I’ll be sure to take my camera.