1/20/09 6:52AM Santa Rosallilita beach campsite
First off, I forgot a funny story from our drunken night at the cantina: when we were at the bar, drinking a round after returning to the cantina for wood, water, etc., an older gentleman came to chat with us. We had spoken with him earlier, at lunch, and had learned that he was from Seattle, had a house in el barrio in Mulege, and came to Playa Santispac on Wednesdays and Saturdays to play poker with the other ex-pats. His name escapes me, but when we saw him later that day he stopped to ask, "You know I was thinking, you're all from San Francisco, right? Well, I don't know whether to hit on the boys or the girls!" Domingo laughingly replied, "Both!" I can't remember if Lemur responded or if he simply had a look of shock or disgust on his face, but the guy then turned to Lemur and says, "What? You don't think a 67-year-old can get it up?" It was hysterical. And thankfully rhetorical. Then he disappeared to el banos.
OK, so the morning after the nigh of mayhem, Jack stopped at our campsite. He peered into the unzipped window of mine and Courtney's tent and said, "Well, you don't look too bad after all. Hahaha...Now I've got a plan for us today. Listen: I'll let y'all clean up, eat, and do whatever you need to do. I'll come back around 11:30 for 2 workers to help me rig up the boat for sailing. Then I'll return at 1 to get the others. Sound good?" We both replied affirmatively. Carl also responded from inside the walls of his tent.
We moved slowly that morning, not surprising given the events of the prior day and evening. Lemur looked, as Court put it, "like he wants to kill himself." Personally I felt shitty until after we took showers, by rigging an outdoor shower system to Mingo's truck and hanging the showerhead on an adjacent, vacant palapa. And breakfast--chicken tamales and egg, cheese, tortilla, and chorizo mix. With Tapatio (tap that tio!). By that time it was decided that Court and Lemur would assist Captain Jack while Mingo, Blackness, and myself traveled to Mulege to re-supply. Carl would stay and watch over the camp, i.e. wrap himself in a blanket, lay in the hammock, and take a siesta. We returned after purchasing mas comida y cervezas. Blackness broke a bottle of beer right outside the store, prompting Mingo to proclaim, "Alcohol abuse!". Captain Jack returned to take us to his boat. We climbed aboard the Mandan for what turned out to ironically be a 3-hour tour on the Sea of Cortez. We didn't see dolphins or whales, but it was beautiful. It got a bit windy and chilly during the boat trip. This was the first cloudy day on Santispac that we'd encountered. Some notes about Captain Jack: he spoke often about seeking a "taco" to live on the boat with him, often saying this with a grin and then making a sly comment in reference to Courtney; he requested that we not bring alcohol on the boat; and he had a curious pictures in the cabin of his boat. It showed him, much younger, and what appeared to be his wife and son, after a high school or college graduation. I saw it when I first entered the cabin of the boat, but later, after going up on deck and then returning to the cabin, it looked like he had tucked it behind another picture, so that you couldn't see it. Clearly he didn't want to field any questions about his past, which seemed to be an unspoken understanding that we all had with him. Whatever he did tell us was of his own volition, but for us to inquire and be nosy about his life and the details of his past would have been some kind of violation of our association with Jack.
After our sailing adventure we returned to our camp. Carl cooked up a delicious ground beef-tomato sauce and we ate pasta after devouring guacomole and chips. Jack returned after he had fulfilled his radio duties and ate pasta with us. He operates the regional weather report via ham radio for a network that runs up and down the Pacific and Cortez coastlines of Baja. On this particular evening, Carl and I were the only ones to drink more than 3 beers. The others were disinterested in drinking for the time being, given all the debauchery of the previous evening. The fact that I was willing to and did indeed imbibe more alcohol probably does not bode well for me. In any case, we all opted to retire to bed early. Court and I got silly once we were in the tent, talking about the "In-nagger-ation '09" and Lil Wayne running as Obama's VP, painting the White House purple and gold, spinning rims on the presidential fleet, and other such racially charged ridiculousness. We basically got a big bang out of ourselves, which I generally believe to be the purpose of life--identify the ridiculous in a situation and entertain yourself endlessly.
We woke up around 8:30AM or so, after a somewhat restless slumber. It was stuffy in the tent most of the night, hence I slept in chonies with my beach towel draped over my legs. Meanwhile Courtney has started to develop some sort of rash/bugbites up and down her legs. I don't know what that's about. Anyways, we did our breakfast/showers/pack up business, shooed off the blanket mafia for the upteenth time (persistent bastards hocking their "junk") and left our plapa on Playa Santispac. We stopped in Santa Rosalia for petrol and pandulcia, which is an absolutely delicious pastry, something like a donut but much, much better. Then we drove about 90 miles to Guerrero Negor, wehre we re-supplied for our final days in Baja. We had to stop for inspections at 2 military checkpoints between Santispac and Santa Rosallilita. They waved us on at the Baja CA/Baja CA Sur border. We topped off our tanks shortly after the border. The two chicos who assisted us looked more like adult lesbians than like teenage boys, they had big asses and short hair gelled to their given fancies. They also were dressed in cargo shorts and t-shirts with random graphic designs, pretty standard wear for butch lesbians. Anyways, after marveling over their resemblance to baby-faced butch lesbians, we gained back the hour we lost crossing the border and got to Santa Rosallilita at 4PM. We went to our previous spot, cracked open Tecates, and set up camp for our final noche en Mexico. Court and I opted not to pitch our tent. Instead we laid out sleeping pads and bags in the truck bed and fell sleep under the stars. We awoke early, watched the sunrise, and saw Lemur and Blackness had done the same and were seated in the camp chairs around the firepit. OK, stopping here. Breakfast is ready.
P.S. Pandulcia from Santa Rosalia=excellent
Friday, August 7, 2009
Baja Entry #7
1/18/09 3:30PM Sea of Cortez, Mandan (Captain Jack's boat)
Yesterday we pretty much laid around all day. I rallied Courtney, Mingo, Blackness, and Lemur to go to the restaurant on Playa Santispac, Ana's Cantina. We got there at 1:30ish, but they didn't open until 2PM so we dilly-dallied, throwing shells into the ocean and sitting on the beach, until they opened at 2:15 or so. There were a number of older folks in there already, retirees who lived in the surrounding areas or traveled down to Baja via RVs with every imaginable luxury added on. Apparently they play poker together every Saturday, all the old farts. We drank Bloody Marys and Pacificos, ate delicious tostadas and enchiladas, and worked our way towards tipsy. We socialized a bit with the older patrons, as well as the staff of the Cantina, primarily the bartendress, Zulema, and promised to return later, as they have dancing on Saturday nights. The DJ was setting up as we ate. We stumbled back to our campsite, the sun high over head and the Bloody Marys doing their best to influence our behavior.
We returned to camp to find Carl and Captain Jack chatting up a storm. We were getting silly and kept on drinking, then Carl asked us to go get mas lena and a tub of water for showers the next morning. We went back to the cantina and saw Zulema again, who had created such delish Bloody Marys earlier in the day. Lemur ordered another round of them and we drank and hurried back to camp, stopping on our way out to pet Tigre, the brindle pit bull mix that likely belonged to the gringo who owns and operates Ana's Cantina. We pretty much got stupid drunk after that. Later, after dinner at the camp, we returned again to the cantina. Mingo and I had taken to multiple sloppy makeout sessions. On the walk to the cantina I fell hard on the ground, scraping my toe, knee, palm of my hand, and even part of my face. I also busted my fingers, the ring and pinky ones on my right hand, and that is definitely impairing my handwriting at this moment. I think they're broken...Anyways, at the cantina Zulema passed off a joint to Courtney. I don't know why Zulema had it, but apparently she doesn't like the mota because she claims it makes her paranoid. So Mingo and I went out front and smoked it, careful to avoid (as Zulema put it--"the old fuckers") other interested parties. We danced and carried on in our silliness, Courtney informing the other patrons that Mingo and I were "newlyweds" in order to better explain our ridiculous behavior.
On the walk back to camp Mingo and Lemur made out. Mingo claims he did so because Court promised she'd kiss Lemur if the boys made out first. But she didn't make out with Lemur afterwards, so Mingo and Lemur made out some more. I was told that when we returned to camp we ate a bunch of food, mostly scraps form the pollo we had for dinner. I was also told that Mingo was gnawing on bones without meat on them, still convinced that he was eating something. I passed out soon after that, or at least I think I did...
However, Mingo woke up our entire camp around 2AM. He got up for water and ibuprofen, and claims he saw a man running full speed from the ocean to the little inlet that runs behind our palapa, full of mangroves. He said he saw him run, then stop for a moment. Mingo yelled into the boys' tent, "Carl, someone's out here!" but when he looked back the man was gone. Meanwhile Carl had armed himself with his giant machete and was standing outside the tent, looking for whatever the hell Domingo had been yelling about. After they both agreed no one was there, I heard Lemur mumble, "Can someone get me some water?" Mingo and Carl returned to the tent, Mingo saying, "You guys are going to give me lots of shit, aren't you?" We confirmed his suspicions, referring to the "man" he saw as the leprechaun-chupacabra, or in reference to Zoolander--"Mer-man, pop!" Yes indeed, we gave him lots of shit for it today. Anyways, I'm going to cut this entry short here. My hand hurts and we're sailing on the Sea of Cortez in Captain Jack's boat. Jack has made a point to show me his vast array of canned goods, which he claims he could live off of for months. Good for you, Jack.
Yesterday we pretty much laid around all day. I rallied Courtney, Mingo, Blackness, and Lemur to go to the restaurant on Playa Santispac, Ana's Cantina. We got there at 1:30ish, but they didn't open until 2PM so we dilly-dallied, throwing shells into the ocean and sitting on the beach, until they opened at 2:15 or so. There were a number of older folks in there already, retirees who lived in the surrounding areas or traveled down to Baja via RVs with every imaginable luxury added on. Apparently they play poker together every Saturday, all the old farts. We drank Bloody Marys and Pacificos, ate delicious tostadas and enchiladas, and worked our way towards tipsy. We socialized a bit with the older patrons, as well as the staff of the Cantina, primarily the bartendress, Zulema, and promised to return later, as they have dancing on Saturday nights. The DJ was setting up as we ate. We stumbled back to our campsite, the sun high over head and the Bloody Marys doing their best to influence our behavior.
We returned to camp to find Carl and Captain Jack chatting up a storm. We were getting silly and kept on drinking, then Carl asked us to go get mas lena and a tub of water for showers the next morning. We went back to the cantina and saw Zulema again, who had created such delish Bloody Marys earlier in the day. Lemur ordered another round of them and we drank and hurried back to camp, stopping on our way out to pet Tigre, the brindle pit bull mix that likely belonged to the gringo who owns and operates Ana's Cantina. We pretty much got stupid drunk after that. Later, after dinner at the camp, we returned again to the cantina. Mingo and I had taken to multiple sloppy makeout sessions. On the walk to the cantina I fell hard on the ground, scraping my toe, knee, palm of my hand, and even part of my face. I also busted my fingers, the ring and pinky ones on my right hand, and that is definitely impairing my handwriting at this moment. I think they're broken...Anyways, at the cantina Zulema passed off a joint to Courtney. I don't know why Zulema had it, but apparently she doesn't like the mota because she claims it makes her paranoid. So Mingo and I went out front and smoked it, careful to avoid (as Zulema put it--"the old fuckers") other interested parties. We danced and carried on in our silliness, Courtney informing the other patrons that Mingo and I were "newlyweds" in order to better explain our ridiculous behavior.
On the walk back to camp Mingo and Lemur made out. Mingo claims he did so because Court promised she'd kiss Lemur if the boys made out first. But she didn't make out with Lemur afterwards, so Mingo and Lemur made out some more. I was told that when we returned to camp we ate a bunch of food, mostly scraps form the pollo we had for dinner. I was also told that Mingo was gnawing on bones without meat on them, still convinced that he was eating something. I passed out soon after that, or at least I think I did...
However, Mingo woke up our entire camp around 2AM. He got up for water and ibuprofen, and claims he saw a man running full speed from the ocean to the little inlet that runs behind our palapa, full of mangroves. He said he saw him run, then stop for a moment. Mingo yelled into the boys' tent, "Carl, someone's out here!" but when he looked back the man was gone. Meanwhile Carl had armed himself with his giant machete and was standing outside the tent, looking for whatever the hell Domingo had been yelling about. After they both agreed no one was there, I heard Lemur mumble, "Can someone get me some water?" Mingo and Carl returned to the tent, Mingo saying, "You guys are going to give me lots of shit, aren't you?" We confirmed his suspicions, referring to the "man" he saw as the leprechaun-chupacabra, or in reference to Zoolander--"Mer-man, pop!" Yes indeed, we gave him lots of shit for it today. Anyways, I'm going to cut this entry short here. My hand hurts and we're sailing on the Sea of Cortez in Captain Jack's boat. Jack has made a point to show me his vast array of canned goods, which he claims he could live off of for months. Good for you, Jack.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Baja Entry #6
1/17/09 9:26 AM Playa Santispac, furthest palapa from other human beings
Te gusto? (Did you like it?)
Quieres hacer algo esta noche? (Would you like to do something tonight?)
Made some nescafe (mmm...instant coffee) and washed dishes, killing an annoying bee in the process. Thus I'm sitting down to write (escribre) 30 mins later. Anyways, we got up and cleaned up, ate breakfast, and said "Adios!" to our beautiful casa by Mulege. Funny moment: taking our plantation style group photo before leaving la casa. We drove into Mulege to re-stock our supplies for the next 2 days of beach camping. Courtney and I walked over to Casa Yer to get mas cigarros. Then we got groceries, ice, beer, etc. at the store. Mingo had some challenges putting the full beer cooler back into the truck, but once those were overcome we stopped at another market for huevos y queso and departed south from Mulege. Intended destino: Playa El Burro. On the way we passed Playa Santispac, a beautiful beach nestled between hills that provided some wind protection to the campers under their palapas. We drove on to El Burro, however the beach was exposed to the wind, and the palapas on both sides of the sole vacant spot were occupada, so we decided to go back to Santispac to see if we could find a better spot. We were all well aware of the volume of our merrymaking, and were ideally looking for a spot that would provide some distance between our party and other campers. Anyways, on the way back to Santispac we saw a Honda CRV near the beach that appeared to be high centered in some mud. We passed through the oficina where the people were on siesta anyways, and drove down la playa to the vacant palapas. We parked after deeming the best of 4 palapas to be our home for the next couple days. Opening Tecates, Carl suggested we see if the stuck vehicle needed more help. 2 vans were there, the Mexican merchants hocking their wares, and were unsuccessful in pulling the vehicle out of the mud because the rope kept breaking.
El coche se descompuso. (The car has broken down.)
Carl sent Mingo back to fetch his truck. We wound up a few ropes to provide a more secure tugline. Then, with the people pushing the car and Mingo's truck pulling it, we edged the CRV out of the mud. It took 2 attempts before mission accomplished. The gringo who was driving was very gracious for our help, he pulled out a bottle of blanca tequila and a cooler of Sol to share with us. He was there with his wife, and they were an older, white American couple who we learned lived on the California-Oregon border. The man owns a restaurant called "Agave" in Ashland, Oregon, and offered us all a free meal anytime we happened to pass through. They were voyaging as far as La Paz, but had seen how empty Playa Santispac was and stopped to drive through the beach. Typically this playa is much more crowded, or so said the gentleman as he pulled on the bottle of tequila. Anyways, they took a group picture of us and we purchased a hammock and blanket (for 500 pesos and 300 pesos respectively) from the men who had also assisted the couple, Adolfo y Jose. They promised to return the next day with their "Junk" as Adolfo called it, and of course kept their promise by returning at around 9AM. However, we were all a bit consado and disinterested in their "Junk" at that time in the morning. Anyways, after the couple got on their way we hopped in the back of Mingo's truck, our cervezas serving as trophies for victoriously freeing the vehicle from the mud, and went back to our palapa to set up camp.
Blackness and Mingo went to get lena (firewood) and we all threw a rugby ball around and waded through the shallow, blue ocean. I filled buckets of ocean water and once we'd gathered large rocks to create the fire pit perimeter I used the water and a stupid plastic scooper to dig out the center (Note: bring a shovel when camping on the beach. And don't let Domingo convince you that a plastic scooper will suffice when you attempt to locate a shovel for purchase). Carl bought and cooked up camorrones for us to eat. While we sat drinking Tecates on the beach, a fellow gringo, Captain Jack, stopped by to greet us. He was anchored at Playa El Burro, the beach up the road where we had decided against setting up camp. We came to learn this about him: He'd been here since June, when his computer broke, and was going to be leaving to the South Pacific sometime in the coming months. He was from LA and he and Carl exchanged various stories and factoids related to sailing, where to buy supplies, best spots for sailing and camping, etc. Captain Jack was a good guy and he left, saying he'd likely stop in to see us again tomorrow. We all enjoyed hearing about his plans and chatting with him.
Ha sido un placer conocerte (It's been great meeting you.)
Carl then cooked up some pork and we ate a meal of corn, grilled pork, avocadoes, and tortiallas. Oh, and of course Tapatio. There was always Tapatio. The fire burned brightly and the night was temperate. At some point Lemur cut open his toes on an abandoned fire pit near another campsite, and Carl applied first aid to help the wounded Lemur. I got sleepy and went to the tent to retire for the evening. I woke up around 3:30AM and the Lemur was snoring up a storm. I dug out my iPod and listened to Postal Service, Elliot Smith, and other super mellow music. Finally I could only hear faint snoring fromt he Lemur, and I fell back to sleep.
Te gusto? (Did you like it?)
Quieres hacer algo esta noche? (Would you like to do something tonight?)
Made some nescafe (mmm...instant coffee) and washed dishes, killing an annoying bee in the process. Thus I'm sitting down to write (escribre) 30 mins later. Anyways, we got up and cleaned up, ate breakfast, and said "Adios!" to our beautiful casa by Mulege. Funny moment: taking our plantation style group photo before leaving la casa. We drove into Mulege to re-stock our supplies for the next 2 days of beach camping. Courtney and I walked over to Casa Yer to get mas cigarros. Then we got groceries, ice, beer, etc. at the store. Mingo had some challenges putting the full beer cooler back into the truck, but once those were overcome we stopped at another market for huevos y queso and departed south from Mulege. Intended destino: Playa El Burro. On the way we passed Playa Santispac, a beautiful beach nestled between hills that provided some wind protection to the campers under their palapas. We drove on to El Burro, however the beach was exposed to the wind, and the palapas on both sides of the sole vacant spot were occupada, so we decided to go back to Santispac to see if we could find a better spot. We were all well aware of the volume of our merrymaking, and were ideally looking for a spot that would provide some distance between our party and other campers. Anyways, on the way back to Santispac we saw a Honda CRV near the beach that appeared to be high centered in some mud. We passed through the oficina where the people were on siesta anyways, and drove down la playa to the vacant palapas. We parked after deeming the best of 4 palapas to be our home for the next couple days. Opening Tecates, Carl suggested we see if the stuck vehicle needed more help. 2 vans were there, the Mexican merchants hocking their wares, and were unsuccessful in pulling the vehicle out of the mud because the rope kept breaking.
El coche se descompuso. (The car has broken down.)
Carl sent Mingo back to fetch his truck. We wound up a few ropes to provide a more secure tugline. Then, with the people pushing the car and Mingo's truck pulling it, we edged the CRV out of the mud. It took 2 attempts before mission accomplished. The gringo who was driving was very gracious for our help, he pulled out a bottle of blanca tequila and a cooler of Sol to share with us. He was there with his wife, and they were an older, white American couple who we learned lived on the California-Oregon border. The man owns a restaurant called "Agave" in Ashland, Oregon, and offered us all a free meal anytime we happened to pass through. They were voyaging as far as La Paz, but had seen how empty Playa Santispac was and stopped to drive through the beach. Typically this playa is much more crowded, or so said the gentleman as he pulled on the bottle of tequila. Anyways, they took a group picture of us and we purchased a hammock and blanket (for 500 pesos and 300 pesos respectively) from the men who had also assisted the couple, Adolfo y Jose. They promised to return the next day with their "Junk" as Adolfo called it, and of course kept their promise by returning at around 9AM. However, we were all a bit consado and disinterested in their "Junk" at that time in the morning. Anyways, after the couple got on their way we hopped in the back of Mingo's truck, our cervezas serving as trophies for victoriously freeing the vehicle from the mud, and went back to our palapa to set up camp.
Blackness and Mingo went to get lena (firewood) and we all threw a rugby ball around and waded through the shallow, blue ocean. I filled buckets of ocean water and once we'd gathered large rocks to create the fire pit perimeter I used the water and a stupid plastic scooper to dig out the center (Note: bring a shovel when camping on the beach. And don't let Domingo convince you that a plastic scooper will suffice when you attempt to locate a shovel for purchase). Carl bought and cooked up camorrones for us to eat. While we sat drinking Tecates on the beach, a fellow gringo, Captain Jack, stopped by to greet us. He was anchored at Playa El Burro, the beach up the road where we had decided against setting up camp. We came to learn this about him: He'd been here since June, when his computer broke, and was going to be leaving to the South Pacific sometime in the coming months. He was from LA and he and Carl exchanged various stories and factoids related to sailing, where to buy supplies, best spots for sailing and camping, etc. Captain Jack was a good guy and he left, saying he'd likely stop in to see us again tomorrow. We all enjoyed hearing about his plans and chatting with him.
Ha sido un placer conocerte (It's been great meeting you.)
Carl then cooked up some pork and we ate a meal of corn, grilled pork, avocadoes, and tortiallas. Oh, and of course Tapatio. There was always Tapatio. The fire burned brightly and the night was temperate. At some point Lemur cut open his toes on an abandoned fire pit near another campsite, and Carl applied first aid to help the wounded Lemur. I got sleepy and went to the tent to retire for the evening. I woke up around 3:30AM and the Lemur was snoring up a storm. I dug out my iPod and listened to Postal Service, Elliot Smith, and other super mellow music. Finally I could only hear faint snoring fromt he Lemur, and I fell back to sleep.
Baja Entry #5
1/16/09 10:14AM Orchard Village, Casa 8, Mulege, B.C.S.
No me importa mirar, pero prefiero no pariticipar.
(I don't mind watching, but I'd rather not join in.)
Esto es muy divertido
(This is very fun)
Second morning awaking in Casa 8. We went into town yesterday, following a grande breakfast of pancakes and an egg/chorizo/tomato/peppers/carne asada omelette. Blackness, Domingo, Lemur, Courtney, and I walked to Mulege. Only about a 15-minute walk along the river bank, with swooping cranes flying down along the water's surface and then back up into the sky. As we approached the town, we could hear the thumping sound of American dance music. We were all curious about where it was coming from; turned out to be a massive speaker system blasting music outside a cell phone salestand. It was like our greeting to Mulege. I'm pretty sure the song that was playing was made popular by an SNL act with Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell (What's love? Baby, don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more).
We went to the main strip of the town and found a Tortillaria that the man who runs the Orchard Village recommended. After purchasing tortillas we, which of course took a group discussion to settle on the number of tortillas to buy, decided to wander into the shops (Baja Curios? haha, Domingo liked that sign). Mingo purchased a T-shirt for 120 pesos, that said "Hecho en Mexico". I looked at some rugs and tablecloths. I'd like to purchase one for home, but I opted to move on. We stopped at the Banco to exchange dollars for pesos, then moved back towards the mercado to buy other food we'd need. We loaded food into backpacks, and since we couldn't find all that we wanted we moved on to other mercados. Mingo found a Bazar to purchase the elusive cutting board for 20 pesos. (Note: Since embarking on the trip, at every meal preparation Carl would remark on the necessity to purchase a cutting board. Meanwhile we sliced limes and tomatoes on broken down beer boxes.) I bought 2 6-packs of Tecate and some more cigarros, then we found otra mercado grande and bought carne asada and sodas for mixed drinks. The sun was high over our heads and much to Blackness' chagrin the Internet shops were closed for midday siestas, that lasted from 1-4 or so. We trudged back to the casa, dancing as we passed the blaring speaker system once again.
Te gusta bailar? (Do you like to Dance?)
Funny moment: as we walked to and from Mulege we were sipping Tecates and a worker at one of the houses that was being renovated kept proclaiming, "Tecate!" as we passed them. Of course, we parrotted his proclamation, yelling, "Tecate!" right back at him. When in Rome...
Anyways, we made quesadillas and drinks, then I opted to have my own siesta. However, it was interrupted initially by some repair required on the second step leading to the upstairs patio/bedroom area. The step was cracked and broken, we'd been pretty much avoiding it while we stayed there, but now it was time to fix it. Some men also brought extra couches to the second floor. Oh, random interjection: the T-shirt Domingo would have bought if they had a size small read, "I'm not shy I just have a big dick." Haha. OK, so the siesta was further interrupted by the volume of Domingo's voice in particular, and everyone else in general.
Vete a la mierda! (Piss off!)
So I surrendered to the inevitable and got out of bed to join the group and their merrymaking. Shortly thereafter, Domingo, Lemur, Blackness, and Court went on a Tecate run. I stayed back with Carl, who had remained at la casa all day. A man had driven by the casa selling shrimp out of his truck, "Fresh... Mulege fresh," he claimed, indicating that it was from the Sea of Cortez and not the Pacific. Carl grilled them up and we ate them as teh Tecate search party returned. We sat and shot the shit, as we've done the entire trip--love it--talking about family, people, and how nice it was to escape the American media for nearly 2 weeks. Eventually we grilled up the carne asada, which Carl had marinated in tequila, cilantro, etc. It was muy delicioso, wrapped in warm tortillas and complimented with fresh avocadoes, queso, y Tapatio (or "Tap that tio" as we've taken to refer it). And then the merrymaking began anew. We took shots, drank blended delish a la Domingo (flaming Domingos anyone?), and Lemur got in a bit over his head challenging Mingo and Court to shots of rum and tequila. At one point, following a Cuervo shot of his own choosing, Lemur spit up a bit. I was saying, "In the cu, Lemur!" but Carl urged, "Over the balcony!" Lemur turned and vomited over the balcony, then shook his head, reached for a TEcate, and took a big gulp. Carl compared his vomiting to a baby spitting up.
Funniest moment of the day: Courtney hosting an episode of "Cribs: Mulege style" while Mingo videotaped. A few choice moments: "This is my stereo, '98 y'all" referring to my boombox, and "This is my jigaboo housemaed washing dishes," referring to Blackness, who turned to dance Riverdance-style and repeated, "All y'all pussies stink!" It concluded with the standard, "You've seen my crib, my cars, my jigaboo housenagger. Now it's time for you to go--," Courtney's face suddenly screwed up tightly into a look of disgust, "Someone farted up in this muthafucka!!" Domingo, dubbed "Capatin Sulfer Dioxide", had indeed farted. Haha. He stood, giggling to himself, while we all tried not to spit out the beer in our mouths as we laughed at him. Carl retired to bed not long after, then Blackness followed suit. The remaining 4 of us went on a drunken bender, stumbling/walking into the dark. We packed extra Tecates and stopped on our travels to drink them on the steps of a restaurant on the waterfront, which had long since closed for the night. Domingo and I had it in our minds to break into an empty house, but we were only bold enough to try one house's door. It was unlocked, and we walked in and quickly realized that it was not really a house. It was a library for the Orchard Village occupants. So we returned to the house, realizing breaking and entering in another country might not be taken too lightly. After listening to music on Lemur's iPhone we all fell asleep on the couches, then one by one retired to bed for the night. Today we leave for beach camping. Adios Casa 8!
Te voy a extranar! (I'm going to miss you!)
Tu ve una estancia muy agradable, gracias. (I had a great stay, thank you)
No me importa mirar, pero prefiero no pariticipar.
(I don't mind watching, but I'd rather not join in.)
Esto es muy divertido
(This is very fun)
Second morning awaking in Casa 8. We went into town yesterday, following a grande breakfast of pancakes and an egg/chorizo/tomato/peppers/carne asada omelette. Blackness, Domingo, Lemur, Courtney, and I walked to Mulege. Only about a 15-minute walk along the river bank, with swooping cranes flying down along the water's surface and then back up into the sky. As we approached the town, we could hear the thumping sound of American dance music. We were all curious about where it was coming from; turned out to be a massive speaker system blasting music outside a cell phone salestand. It was like our greeting to Mulege. I'm pretty sure the song that was playing was made popular by an SNL act with Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell (What's love? Baby, don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more).
We went to the main strip of the town and found a Tortillaria that the man who runs the Orchard Village recommended. After purchasing tortillas we, which of course took a group discussion to settle on the number of tortillas to buy, decided to wander into the shops (Baja Curios? haha, Domingo liked that sign). Mingo purchased a T-shirt for 120 pesos, that said "Hecho en Mexico". I looked at some rugs and tablecloths. I'd like to purchase one for home, but I opted to move on. We stopped at the Banco to exchange dollars for pesos, then moved back towards the mercado to buy other food we'd need. We loaded food into backpacks, and since we couldn't find all that we wanted we moved on to other mercados. Mingo found a Bazar to purchase the elusive cutting board for 20 pesos. (Note: Since embarking on the trip, at every meal preparation Carl would remark on the necessity to purchase a cutting board. Meanwhile we sliced limes and tomatoes on broken down beer boxes.) I bought 2 6-packs of Tecate and some more cigarros, then we found otra mercado grande and bought carne asada and sodas for mixed drinks. The sun was high over our heads and much to Blackness' chagrin the Internet shops were closed for midday siestas, that lasted from 1-4 or so. We trudged back to the casa, dancing as we passed the blaring speaker system once again.
Te gusta bailar? (Do you like to Dance?)
Funny moment: as we walked to and from Mulege we were sipping Tecates and a worker at one of the houses that was being renovated kept proclaiming, "Tecate!" as we passed them. Of course, we parrotted his proclamation, yelling, "Tecate!" right back at him. When in Rome...
Anyways, we made quesadillas and drinks, then I opted to have my own siesta. However, it was interrupted initially by some repair required on the second step leading to the upstairs patio/bedroom area. The step was cracked and broken, we'd been pretty much avoiding it while we stayed there, but now it was time to fix it. Some men also brought extra couches to the second floor. Oh, random interjection: the T-shirt Domingo would have bought if they had a size small read, "I'm not shy I just have a big dick." Haha. OK, so the siesta was further interrupted by the volume of Domingo's voice in particular, and everyone else in general.
Vete a la mierda! (Piss off!)
So I surrendered to the inevitable and got out of bed to join the group and their merrymaking. Shortly thereafter, Domingo, Lemur, Blackness, and Court went on a Tecate run. I stayed back with Carl, who had remained at la casa all day. A man had driven by the casa selling shrimp out of his truck, "Fresh... Mulege fresh," he claimed, indicating that it was from the Sea of Cortez and not the Pacific. Carl grilled them up and we ate them as teh Tecate search party returned. We sat and shot the shit, as we've done the entire trip--love it--talking about family, people, and how nice it was to escape the American media for nearly 2 weeks. Eventually we grilled up the carne asada, which Carl had marinated in tequila, cilantro, etc. It was muy delicioso, wrapped in warm tortillas and complimented with fresh avocadoes, queso, y Tapatio (or "Tap that tio" as we've taken to refer it). And then the merrymaking began anew. We took shots, drank blended delish a la Domingo (flaming Domingos anyone?), and Lemur got in a bit over his head challenging Mingo and Court to shots of rum and tequila. At one point, following a Cuervo shot of his own choosing, Lemur spit up a bit. I was saying, "In the cu, Lemur!" but Carl urged, "Over the balcony!" Lemur turned and vomited over the balcony, then shook his head, reached for a TEcate, and took a big gulp. Carl compared his vomiting to a baby spitting up.
Funniest moment of the day: Courtney hosting an episode of "Cribs: Mulege style" while Mingo videotaped. A few choice moments: "This is my stereo, '98 y'all" referring to my boombox, and "This is my jigaboo housemaed washing dishes," referring to Blackness, who turned to dance Riverdance-style and repeated, "All y'all pussies stink!" It concluded with the standard, "You've seen my crib, my cars, my jigaboo housenagger. Now it's time for you to go--," Courtney's face suddenly screwed up tightly into a look of disgust, "Someone farted up in this muthafucka!!" Domingo, dubbed "Capatin Sulfer Dioxide", had indeed farted. Haha. He stood, giggling to himself, while we all tried not to spit out the beer in our mouths as we laughed at him. Carl retired to bed not long after, then Blackness followed suit. The remaining 4 of us went on a drunken bender, stumbling/walking into the dark. We packed extra Tecates and stopped on our travels to drink them on the steps of a restaurant on the waterfront, which had long since closed for the night. Domingo and I had it in our minds to break into an empty house, but we were only bold enough to try one house's door. It was unlocked, and we walked in and quickly realized that it was not really a house. It was a library for the Orchard Village occupants. So we returned to the house, realizing breaking and entering in another country might not be taken too lightly. After listening to music on Lemur's iPhone we all fell asleep on the couches, then one by one retired to bed for the night. Today we leave for beach camping. Adios Casa 8!
Te voy a extranar! (I'm going to miss you!)
Tu ve una estancia muy agradable, gracias. (I had a great stay, thank you)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
