Los mariachis me hacen bailer
Bailer es ser feliz
La música tiene un ritmo
Me hace tocar los pies
Bailer es ser feliz
~~~
The mariachis make me dance
To dance is to be happy
The music has a rhythm
It makes me tap my feet
To dance is to be happy
~~~
Don’t they look happy?
Once our clean up after Tropical Storm Lidia is complete, it’s business as usual. We’re working with Salvador at Baja Paperworks in La Paz to become citizens. After we meet with him we stop at the Bravo Market in La Paz to get Greg some bacon. I snap a few photos. Some better than others, but you get the idea.
Bones for Isabela too!
Pollo
We love the market with its vibrant colors and the rich smell of raw and cooked food. There are lots of choices when it comes to eating and there a lots of juice bars too. If you’ve never been to Bravo Market (on Bravo St.) you are missing some fun.
I wonder how you cook a goat head?
Ribs anyone?
Pretty as a Picture
On the way home from La Paz I get a photo looking through the truck windshield. Never mind the bugs on the windshield. Just enjoy the clouds and blue sky.
Which brings me to 14 September 2017
There has been a tremendous amount of turtle nesting activity on “our” beach in El Gavilan (south of Pedrito). It’s unfortunate that so many people choose to ignore the NO VEHICLES ON THE BEACH law. As if it isn’t hard enough for the little turtles to survive to adulthood. We mark the nests when we come across them on our morning walks. Thanks to the storm we have plenty of sticks with which to mark them!
Unfortunately, Lidia brought a lot of debris to the beach. Some of it is organic—tree branches, for example, and cactus. But those arroyos are full of garbage and it washed down too. Plastic is everywhere. A fair amount will be in the Pacific Ocean from this as well. So sad.
I remember how hard we worked to clean our beach after Hurricane Odile. Here we go again.
The ocean is still quite dirty. The green color in the water indicates this. These photos are from my walk this afternoon.
Look closely and see the green water in the photo before it turns blue. Green means it’s “dirty” water.
We are busy living their lives again, and tonight we are going to the new brewery in Todos Santos for their yummy fish and chips. Look for my blog post on the brewery soon!
Tropical Storm Lidia Sept. 2017 has its way with our plants.
The Pacific Ocean is tormented too.
And when it’s over…
Flowers!
This is the best recycling I’ve seen. Martin Angel, the proprietor of Artejal Galeria on Carretera 19, KM 64 in Pescadero, BCS, uses his imagination and skill to create fantastic creatures. His bread and butter is making security gates and doors, but his creative side is always looking for something artistic to accomplish. What an amazing talent.
Look closely and see if you can identify the parts and pieces of his sculptures. These mujeres (women) are the traditional Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) figures that are so popular here in Mexico.
Check out the dragon. He’s so scary looking, but I was mesmerized as I took his photo. He was probably a star in Avatar.
What do we have here?
You probably need to be a car mechanic to be able to identify a lot of this stuff.
It looks like he’s ready to take off any minute.
Martin (pronounced Mar-teen) has done work for friends of ours, Gwen and George. They have his cactus skeletons as part of their gate decor. Very cool.
Here’s a tuna cactus that he made for someone. He is going to finish it with some sealer, but leave it rusted. There are some buzzards perched there too.
This is no pink flamingo.
Who knew that rebar would make such lovely hair?
This little mermaid is beautiful. I’m not a mermaid fan necessarily, but I wouldn’t mind bringing her home.
These buzzards are so real looking. We have a lot of them in the desert.
Baja shores are filled with pelicans too.
This is Martin’s nod to another creature that is found here in Baja. (A big reason we moved here).
Look at those 6-pack abs!!!
Doesn’t this vaquero have a beautiful face?
If you come to El Pescadero, be sure to stop in and see Martin’s creations. If you need security gates or doors or window bars, he can help you with those too. It’s almost hard to believe these creations happen in such a rustic environment by such an unassuming man.
Martin Angel
612-133-0023
With mixed emotions, we’re off, driving north to our unknown life because cancer has come to call. We’ve driven the Baja many times; we know all the check points, gas stations, which restaurants to avoid, which hotels accept dogs, and the roads are familiar (and dangerous in many places). Our senses are heightened and we are consumed with our own thoughts. What the hell? Cancer? Really? There is this tiny, itsy bitsy idea in my head: maybe it’s not cancer. Maybe it’s okay. I guess it’s my natural state to be a positive thinker, but some would label my thinking nothing more than denial. I wonder what’s going on in Greg’s head?
We’ve haven’t gone very far when Greg starts talking about updating our will. His idea of making plans clearly includes the real possibility that cancer will get its way. Take his life. “No. No. No. I don’t want to talk about this right now.” But I have to acquiesce, because he needs me to focus on what he wants. He is Mr. Practical. And I think somewhere in his normal way of doing things–his modus operandi–he finds relief. That might sound odd, but making some practical plans, doing something over which you have some control, just allows your fear to take a step back. Okay, let’s focus on what we can do.
We also discuss when and how we will tell our three sons, and other family members. So far we have not shared anything with them. Very few people know what we’re dealing with and that is how Greg wants it right now. In order to leave our home for an unspecified time, we request assistance from our neighbors, who generously offer to do whatever we need. Greg takes care of all those plans too. It gives him something to do besides think.
Antonio, our Mexican gardener, will water our plants weekly and do a general clean up once a month. Randy, our dear friend, will maintain our solar batteries, and our close neighbor, Aldo, is in charge of paying Antonio (who works for Aldo too) and keeping tabs on our water needs, ordering a truck of water when the cistern is low. Aldo is also keeping an eye out so we don’t have troubles of the thieving kind. Our alarm system is functioning well, and we are as protected as possible. Greg has even made sure that we have the correct increments of pesos to pay Antonio organized for Aldo so he doesn’t have to go to the bank to change big bills into small ones. This is a kindness on Greg’s part, as there is nothing “normal” about a banking experience here in this part of Mexico. Trust me. It sucks.
Driving the Baja can be a harrowing experience because the roads are so narrow and there are so many huge trucks carrying the goods that keep all of us who live here comfortable, fed, and happy.
There are many mountains to cross and you go from one side of the peninsula to the other and back again. (See red line on the map above). There are no coffee shops, no signs pointing out your next Starbucks. We need to be alert. Besides, coffee is mandatory for a road trip. So we have a small propane stove and all the fixings for making our own coffee.
Here’s a nice place to stop for coffee.
Day one is a hard day of driving. We take turns, though Greg does the majority of the driving. At our stop in Santa Rosalia for gas we can’t find a hotel with a vacancy that accepts dogs, so we continue on an hour or so where we find a small hotel for the night. We sleep restlessly and are up at 5:00AM. Our goal is to get through the rest of the Baja drive on day two. It’s doable.
Our backs are sore, we are tired and hungry and need a break, but we continue onward to the Tecate/US border crossing after a stop in Ensenada. There’s a Starbucks there too. Coffee is our fuel. California here we come.
We plan to stop in San Diego where our youngest son and his wife live. They care for my 100 year old mom, making it possible for her to live in her own home. (They are angels.) We called them last night giving them our “news” and it will be good to get some hugs and a quick visit with them, plus some sleep before we continue to Washington and whatever the fates have in store for us.
Oh and by the way:
Believing that a trip to Costco in Cabo San Lucas will net us the prescription Greg needs, we head south. In 45 minutes we can be there. Driving to Cabo is more scenic than the trip to La Paz. Quicker too. Plus I can always find something for our larder at Costco, so I welcome the diversion.
You can see the arch from Costco.
Speeding along the highway, Greg is distracted by the ocean waves. Surfers cannot be within sight of the ocean without checking out the surf. This always drives me crazy, but he assures me once more that he’s paying enough attention to his driving task. I’m never fully confident, and ask if he wants me to drive. “No, that’s okay.” I know what he’s thinking: I drive too slowly.
Antibiotics in hand, (whew!) we settle into an almost normal rhythm for the next two weeks while he takes his medicine. After a week, I look inside his mouth and see they are working. The pustules are lessening and the redness is fading. Even though Dr. Angulo had wanted Greg to see another specialist, Greg believes it is more prudent to kill off the bacterial infection first, so we postpone scheduling that appointment.
Back to St. Jude’s for an exam after the series of antibiotics is complete, and the doc there does another swab for a culture to be certain the infection isn’t lingering. It’s well into September now, and the continuing heat and humidity are getting to us. Greg hasn’t been in the water surfing for about a month. This absence from his favorite pastime isn’t helping his attitude.
When the culture comes back with good news, it seems odd that the doctor is hesitant. He wants Greg to see the ear, nose, and throat specialist that comes to St. Jude’s from Cabo. He wants this doctor to examine Greg’s throat for some reason he isn’t sharing with us. It does seem like a good idea though, as Greg has been complaining that it’s getting somewhat uncomfortable to swallow.
As this specialist lives near Todos Santos, we are assured they will call us when the doctor can examine him. A few days later we get the call. “Come in right now. The doctor is here in the clinic.” There is a fluttering in my stomach. I’m not sure why, but something seems “off” to me. We thought they would make an appointment for a future time, but instead we hurry to town to see yet another doctor.
This new doctor has the look of a competent professional with a special lamp for seeing into Greg’s throat. We have come to this appointment armed with all the previous test results and after his initial look into Greg’s mouth, he flips through all the reports. He doesn’t speak English, so there is another doctor with us who does, as well as the clinic administrator and the doctor who wanted Greg to come for this visit. There is much Spanish conversation going on between all these people. We aren’t catching much of it.
The doctor looks back into Greg’s throat with his powerful light; he’s doing some probing. Suddenly, with a puzzled expression, he turns to the others and asks (in Spanish), “Why isn’t anybody talking about the tumor on his tonsil?”
With wide eyes and a curious expression, the administrator asks, “Has anyone said anything about a tumor on your tonsil? There isn’t a mention of it in any of this paperwork you have.”
We look at each other. I feel as if all the blood has drained from my body. Greg has a tumor on his tonsil? What? This explains why he has been having a bit of trouble swallowing. Incredulous, we look back at the four of them.
The tumor is large. Greg will need a lot of tests. There are places they can send him for tests, but not all in one location. They can send us to Cabo, and some places have other appropriate testing apparatus in La Paz. Others may be as far away as Guadalajara and Mexico City. “Do you have medical insurance in the US?”
The answers we give to the doctor’s questions make it clear that Greg should go north for testing and inevitable treatment of some kind. Greg has insurance coverage in the state of Washington. We need to get him on a plane.
As we leave the exam room, the doctor puts his hand on Greg’s shoulder, looks him in the eyes and says, in English, “I’m sorry.” Neither of us will ever forget those two words and the pitiful expression we saw on his face.
resonating sounds of waves
penetrate the outer reaches
of my consciousness
surf hitting shore rocks
splattering skyward
while raucous laughter is
surging, blending with the breakers
increasing today’s seashore delight
a lasting frisson of excitement
in the outer reaches of my consciousness
I’m posing in this photo just to show scale. This is one big palm.
Brothers in front of a triangle palm.
QUEEN PALMS
Such a gorgeous spot.
if were a seahorse
and you asked me for a ride
i’d have to say i’m sorry~
this seahorse rides alone.
no time to be with folks like you
my life I spend with seahorse thoughts
in liquid blue, the waves are mine~
this seahorse rides alone.
Mala Mujer (Bad Woman) is a roust, winter-deciduous herbaceous perennial to 1.2 m tall, with stinging hairs 4-8cm long. Blooms mostly May through July, found in the cape region of Baja.
Amidst the decaying desert plants, clustering blooms are showing off. There were several of these along the path this morning as we walk in the desert hills by our home.
Hard to believe I used to hate the desert. I thought it was ugly. How wrong I was. Maybe I just grew up and started appreciating things more. The desert is alive with beauty, as are all landscapes, no matter how barren they may be, because life is there. Glorious life.
My husband and our German shepherd were blessed with lots of blooms on our walk this morning. There was also a bunch of garbage dumped along the way. Such a shame that people think it’s okay to throw their garbage anywhere–everywhere. That is one thing I will never get used to, living here in Baja Sur.
Mala Mujer
I accidentally had my camera set to “soft” so all my photos turned out, well, soft. Reminds me to check my settings before I shoot. But they are pretty photos in spite of the wrong setting.
Because there was a heavy marine layer this morning, the light was pretty good for photos when we got home. One of our cactus–called a tuna–has fruit this year. It’s the first year for fruit. This cactus has been through a couple hurricanes, but it comes back strong. Like us.
Here’s what it looked like when we planted it:
Here’s what it looks like now:
The marine layer has burned off. The breeze is blowing and it’s warm and comfortable as I plan the rest of my day. Retirement means you can enjoy the work you do–working in the yard, cleaning house, doing laundry, hanging it out on the line. It’s all good. Life in Baja has its troubles, like anywhere else, but there is nothing like it. Slow and easy, enjoying la playa, el desierto, los amigos, el jardin, y las tiendes. It’s a sweet, simple life.
Mi vida es muy sencilla.
The adverb now is out of date
Obsolete and what we hate
No longer added to make it better
Slash it, write it a Dear John Letter
Once sought and used for HOW? WHEN? WHERE?
No longer needed, we just don’t care
Poor Adverb! Once a modifier
Now no work, we cannot hire
Not slowly, brightly, or uncontrollably
Not succinctly, proudly or simply horribly
The adverb now is shunned and hated
It’s sad demise so underrated
Avoid all adverbs! This you must do
To the worthless helper we bid adieu
This kind and gentle artist has made so many beautiful pieces for me and for many others. Some people I know have 20-30 pieces; some with whole sets of dishes. I’m well on my way to a fine collection myself. This photo shows the latest: pizza pans, two bowls, and a French bread pan.
Marcos and Margarita live in the mountains with his sister. The drive is spectacular and sometimes difficult, as it was this time. The roads are not paved, and they were in bad repair from the hurricane two weeks ago. Glad we have a good Toyota truck to make the trip.
In the summer it typically rains a lot in the mountains. It looks so green and lush it reminds me of Hawaii. We saw so many butterflies and goats and cows and donkeys. We got a glimpse of a deer jumping off the road into the brush. The butterflies can’t touch down in the puddles of water, so they land in the mud for their drinking pleasure.
Look closely to the photo below and you’ll see them in the mud puddle in the road. We drove over it and they flew all around the windows of the truck.
Yesterday, when we arrived at Marcos’s house, his grandson was visiting. What an adorable little guy. His parents were there too, but I’m sad to say I don’t know if the mother or the father was Marcos’s kid. At any rate, Margarita, the grandma, was enjoying her time with the baby. He has such a sweet smile. I got to hold him too as he put out his arms to me. I was honored. Thrilled. So happy to have a baby in my arms.
His shirt says, “I’m with the BAND!”
Maybe he’ll grow up to be a musician, or a potter like his grandpa.
Soon after we left for home, we ran into this guy. He doesn’t look too happy to us, does he?
Home now and getting excited to use some of my new pottery.
I decided to start with French bread. Here’s the baking dish before I filled it with my rising dough:
Here it is with the 2nd rising of the dough that’s ready for the oven. Fifteen minutes on 400 degrees F and 30 more minutes at 350 degrees F.
Here it is coming out of the oven:
Come over for a nice slice of French bread made in the baking dish Marcos made for me.
I’m in heaven!
Living in Baja and being retired here to enjoy the simple pleasures, like baking bread and
exploring the area, make me happy ever single day.