It only took a year to finish typing and posting my Baja journal, but yes it is done! My next mission is to post some of the pictures from the trip, namely the plantation-style family photo we took the morning we left our Cribs: Mulege casa...some people say a picture can speak a thousand words, in which case my entire Baja journal is basically a moot point next to this picture, but nonetheless I am glad I took the time, hungover at times and with possibly broken/definitely sprained fingers (yeah...about that...).
Anyways, one of my ambitions resolutions for the new year is to write more. So perhaps that will actually happen on this blog, although if past behavior is the best indicator for future behavior it's unlikely much will happen on this blog in the next year. In any case, come back and see my blog again sometime, if only to marvel at just how silly 6 grown adults can be when traveling together for 12 days, to wonder about how much time I can spend talking about the food we ate and the excessive number of times I use the words "forge" and "retire" in my Baja entries, and to question the ridiculous phrases I throw randomly around, thanks to the wonders of stupid American travel books....
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Baja Entry #10
1/22/09 9:23AM IABA-North Office, Oakland, CA (I'm back at work, but clearly not working...)
OK, so we spent most of Tuesday, 1/20, driving from Santa Rosallilita to Ensenada. We stopped to eat tacos at Carl's favorite spot in Ensenada. They were delicious, especially the al pastor tacos. We got to the border and didn't wait more than 30 minutes to cross. There were lots of vendors, disabled people peddling for money, and other random people moving up and down the spaces between lanes, trying to get your money before you cross back to the U.S. the line of cars going into Mexico, however, was quite long. Carl commented that it was commuters; people who live in Mexico but work in the States. He also noted that this border crossing was the busiest in the world. After passing through we stopped in the Hillcrest area of San Diego. Lemur and Mingo had technical difficulties parking the truck so Carl, angry as ever, said "Fuck it" and we drove onto Cardiff to camp at the state beach where the guys will likely come next month and camp during Rugby 7s.
We all showered in the nice, hot campsite showers (seriously, they were glorious after not having a real shower in days) and set up our tents. Court is covered in some kind of itchy rash, she thinks it's from beach fleas, so she slept in the Cheyenne while I got the 1-man tent to myself. In her defense, Carl and I both have milder versions of the rash. We made a Jack-in-the-Box run, (after a little bit of a huff from Domingo because Carl gave me the keys to the Cayenne and when Mingo asked to drive Carl said, "If you want to drive, then drive your truck," and after Mingo's continued protests he reminded him, "No one likes it when you drive." That pretty much ended that.) and post-ingesting disgusting American fast food everyone pretty much crashed out.
The camp didn't really get moving until about 8:30AM on 1/21. The boys wanted to shower before we left, so Court and I took the Cheyenne to the nearest Starbucks to get some coffee and pick up smokes at the 7-11 (as opposed to the "Eleven Seven" store we saw on Hwy 1 in Baja, haha). We met a lady there who struck up a convo about rugby with us based on seeing my Stanford 10s tournament t-shirt. Apparently her son had played rugby at Stanford (which means he was likely a douchebag AND a poor rugby player, but hey, she seemed nice enough) and we talked about rugby and she said she was considering going to the international 7s tourney next month. I encouraged her to go, then we said our goodbyes and left to get back to camp. The weather had been cloudy from Santa Rosallilita, well really since our last day on Santispac, up until we got to San Diego. It was drizzling rain, but still warm--gotta love San Diego. The breaks were also amazing and surfers were all over the place as we pulled out from San Elijo in Cardiff to hit the road home on our final day. We stopped about an hour later to eat at Denny's. We stopped again at the grapevine to get snacks and drinks, then forged on ahead. There wasn't a lot of talking amongst Carl, Blackness, Courtney and I. I venture to guess we all wanted to get home, even though we knew that return also meant the end of the voyage and back to normal life with constant phone calls, text messages, e-mails, working, working, working, existing within the boundaries of walled buildings and no more warm sun until spring...So for the majority of the ride, after I got tired of listening to random XM radio stations, I put on my iPod and zoned out. We stopped one more time at Taco Bell (nothing but the best yo), and then we boarded our vehicles and did not stop until we'd reached the drop off point for Blackness (Folsom & 3rd in SF). We had a bit of a delay, as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Lemur drove past us and had to circle around, Carl cursing all the while as per usual. After saying our farewells, we drove to Carl and Domingo's to unload the rest of the stuff. I offered to take Courtney home and save Carl the time of dropping her off. Of course Lemur took his sweet ass time getting his crap together, which had managed to spread itself all over the backseat of the truck...We took a roundabout route to drop off Court. What's a few extra minutes on a 12-day trip? Then Lemur and I drove across the Bay Bridge back to Berkeley. During the drive from SD I had realized I didn't have much food at home, so I made a list on the trip home. I mentioned to Lemur I'd be stopping at the store near his apartment and he decided to join me.
Finally, I returned home to find both my roommates there. Bear came and greeted me warmly, lots of tailwagging and a big dog smile. I had some rotten food to throw away and clothes to wash, for fear of beach flea infestation and more rashes. I took a shower without flip-flops on for the first time in 10 days and checked my scores of e-mails. It was strange to be home, strange that it all had ended. By 11PM I was overwhelmingly tired. I retired to bed, setting my alarm for work the following morning as I'd done 100s of times before. However, somehow it was different this time. My room seemed quieter than I'd grown accustomed to after sleeping in tents with people literally inches away for the last 10 days or so. I didn't want to settle back into my old routine, however it seemed I had little choice but to do so. There was something comforting in the old routine, but there was also something inside me that rebelled against it. It was the part of me that enjoyed feeling sand between my toes and seeing waves crashing against the beach 80 feet from my unzipped tent window, the part of me that relished the chance to go to sleep under the bright, full moon and thousands of stars and wake up just as the sun was rising and making the sky look as if it'd been painted with brushstrokes of pinks and purples. It was the part of me that loved cooking outside, then sitting in chairs and sharing the meal with a group of friends, no TV on or internet connections or text messages interrupting our meals, just people talking and listening and maybe some music playing that we can occasionally sing to or dance with. And as I fell asleep, listening to the raindrops on my window and feeling cold for the first time in days, I couldn't help but wonder when I'd get another chance to get away from "normal" life and the daily routine and to free myself of all responsibilities except to feed, clothe, and wash myself and think and say to the other people around me, "If this isn't nice, then I don't know what is"...
OK, so we spent most of Tuesday, 1/20, driving from Santa Rosallilita to Ensenada. We stopped to eat tacos at Carl's favorite spot in Ensenada. They were delicious, especially the al pastor tacos. We got to the border and didn't wait more than 30 minutes to cross. There were lots of vendors, disabled people peddling for money, and other random people moving up and down the spaces between lanes, trying to get your money before you cross back to the U.S. the line of cars going into Mexico, however, was quite long. Carl commented that it was commuters; people who live in Mexico but work in the States. He also noted that this border crossing was the busiest in the world. After passing through we stopped in the Hillcrest area of San Diego. Lemur and Mingo had technical difficulties parking the truck so Carl, angry as ever, said "Fuck it" and we drove onto Cardiff to camp at the state beach where the guys will likely come next month and camp during Rugby 7s.
We all showered in the nice, hot campsite showers (seriously, they were glorious after not having a real shower in days) and set up our tents. Court is covered in some kind of itchy rash, she thinks it's from beach fleas, so she slept in the Cheyenne while I got the 1-man tent to myself. In her defense, Carl and I both have milder versions of the rash. We made a Jack-in-the-Box run, (after a little bit of a huff from Domingo because Carl gave me the keys to the Cayenne and when Mingo asked to drive Carl said, "If you want to drive, then drive your truck," and after Mingo's continued protests he reminded him, "No one likes it when you drive." That pretty much ended that.) and post-ingesting disgusting American fast food everyone pretty much crashed out.
The camp didn't really get moving until about 8:30AM on 1/21. The boys wanted to shower before we left, so Court and I took the Cheyenne to the nearest Starbucks to get some coffee and pick up smokes at the 7-11 (as opposed to the "Eleven Seven" store we saw on Hwy 1 in Baja, haha). We met a lady there who struck up a convo about rugby with us based on seeing my Stanford 10s tournament t-shirt. Apparently her son had played rugby at Stanford (which means he was likely a douchebag AND a poor rugby player, but hey, she seemed nice enough) and we talked about rugby and she said she was considering going to the international 7s tourney next month. I encouraged her to go, then we said our goodbyes and left to get back to camp. The weather had been cloudy from Santa Rosallilita, well really since our last day on Santispac, up until we got to San Diego. It was drizzling rain, but still warm--gotta love San Diego. The breaks were also amazing and surfers were all over the place as we pulled out from San Elijo in Cardiff to hit the road home on our final day. We stopped about an hour later to eat at Denny's. We stopped again at the grapevine to get snacks and drinks, then forged on ahead. There wasn't a lot of talking amongst Carl, Blackness, Courtney and I. I venture to guess we all wanted to get home, even though we knew that return also meant the end of the voyage and back to normal life with constant phone calls, text messages, e-mails, working, working, working, existing within the boundaries of walled buildings and no more warm sun until spring...So for the majority of the ride, after I got tired of listening to random XM radio stations, I put on my iPod and zoned out. We stopped one more time at Taco Bell (nothing but the best yo), and then we boarded our vehicles and did not stop until we'd reached the drop off point for Blackness (Folsom & 3rd in SF). We had a bit of a delay, as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Lemur drove past us and had to circle around, Carl cursing all the while as per usual. After saying our farewells, we drove to Carl and Domingo's to unload the rest of the stuff. I offered to take Courtney home and save Carl the time of dropping her off. Of course Lemur took his sweet ass time getting his crap together, which had managed to spread itself all over the backseat of the truck...We took a roundabout route to drop off Court. What's a few extra minutes on a 12-day trip? Then Lemur and I drove across the Bay Bridge back to Berkeley. During the drive from SD I had realized I didn't have much food at home, so I made a list on the trip home. I mentioned to Lemur I'd be stopping at the store near his apartment and he decided to join me.
Finally, I returned home to find both my roommates there. Bear came and greeted me warmly, lots of tailwagging and a big dog smile. I had some rotten food to throw away and clothes to wash, for fear of beach flea infestation and more rashes. I took a shower without flip-flops on for the first time in 10 days and checked my scores of e-mails. It was strange to be home, strange that it all had ended. By 11PM I was overwhelmingly tired. I retired to bed, setting my alarm for work the following morning as I'd done 100s of times before. However, somehow it was different this time. My room seemed quieter than I'd grown accustomed to after sleeping in tents with people literally inches away for the last 10 days or so. I didn't want to settle back into my old routine, however it seemed I had little choice but to do so. There was something comforting in the old routine, but there was also something inside me that rebelled against it. It was the part of me that enjoyed feeling sand between my toes and seeing waves crashing against the beach 80 feet from my unzipped tent window, the part of me that relished the chance to go to sleep under the bright, full moon and thousands of stars and wake up just as the sun was rising and making the sky look as if it'd been painted with brushstrokes of pinks and purples. It was the part of me that loved cooking outside, then sitting in chairs and sharing the meal with a group of friends, no TV on or internet connections or text messages interrupting our meals, just people talking and listening and maybe some music playing that we can occasionally sing to or dance with. And as I fell asleep, listening to the raindrops on my window and feeling cold for the first time in days, I couldn't help but wonder when I'd get another chance to get away from "normal" life and the daily routine and to free myself of all responsibilities except to feed, clothe, and wash myself and think and say to the other people around me, "If this isn't nice, then I don't know what is"...
THE END
Baja Entry #9
1/21/09 8:31AM San Eliho State Beach, Cardiff, CA (Campsite #88)
After breakfast we loaded up all our stuff and said "adios" to Santa Rosallilita. Lemur drove Mingo's truck and Court and I rode with Carl and Blackness in the Cayenne. We wanted to listen to the Inauguration on Carl's XM in the Cayenne (or "I-nagger-ation 09" as Courtney lovingly refers to it). However, we didn't depart until 9:38AM PST, which was about 38 minutes after the inauguration and 20 or so after President Obama gave his inaugural address. But we listened to CNN and Fox News (Carl's a Republican, remember?) coverage of the events and commentary regarding Obama's speech. OK, need to break here til later so I can pack up. To be continued...
After breakfast we loaded up all our stuff and said "adios" to Santa Rosallilita. Lemur drove Mingo's truck and Court and I rode with Carl and Blackness in the Cayenne. We wanted to listen to the Inauguration on Carl's XM in the Cayenne (or "I-nagger-ation 09" as Courtney lovingly refers to it). However, we didn't depart until 9:38AM PST, which was about 38 minutes after the inauguration and 20 or so after President Obama gave his inaugural address. But we listened to CNN and Fox News (Carl's a Republican, remember?) coverage of the events and commentary regarding Obama's speech. OK, need to break here til later so I can pack up. To be continued...
Friday, August 7, 2009
Baja Entry #8
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
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
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)
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Back on the Wagon
Wow, I officially suck at maintaining a blog. Sigh. However, I need to get back into typing up my Baja memoirs. They're kind of hilarious. Well, hilarious to me.
OK, so getting back on the blogging wagon as of this weekend. I'm hoping to finish typing up the memoirs and sharing them with peeps. That'll be the true test of hilarity.
Peace Out!
OK, so getting back on the blogging wagon as of this weekend. I'm hoping to finish typing up the memoirs and sharing them with peeps. That'll be the true test of hilarity.
Peace Out!
Monday, February 2, 2009
Baja Entry 4
1/15/09 9:36AM Orchard Village, open-air Casa 8
No tengo nada que declarar. (I have nothing to declare.)
Estoy cansada, mejor me voy ami casa. (I'm tired, I'd better go home.)
We left at a good time yesterday, around 10:15AM or so. I drove Mingo's truck the entire day. The roads are much narrower here than in the US, but his truck is wide and at first I was uncomfortable driving it--especially around curves (Curvas Peligroso). However, following Carl's inquiry via walkie talkie, "Is your parking brake on?" I stepped it up and drove the damn thing. We stopped in Guerrero Negro (warlike black person, which Courtney exclaimed will be "the name of my first child!") for supplies. The town had many hotels, restaurants, and mercados. We got more food and filled up on petrol, although the Mexican manning the Pemex station was disputing payment and Carl kept calculating the exchange rate using Lemur's iPhone and pointing at the phone. That sorted itself out and we moved on to purchase tarps and finally depart Guerrero Negro, while Courtney verbally slapped Domingo for buying her tent a tarp--"I don't need that shit and I'm not paying for it!"). Carl's fun fact , "I've never eaten at a restaurant in this town that I liked," crackled over the radios as we drove out of town. Domingo and Courtney fell asleep and I took the iPod over, creating a Dodos and Postal Service playlist. I admit that I felt some tears roll down my face as I listened to Benjamin Gibbard sing. This thought occurred in my head: this music reminds me of Ruth. It hurts to listen to, but I don't want to listen to anything else. We'd traveled nearly 1,000 miles at this point, but I couldn't escape her. It's as if I carry her with me wherever I go. Sigh.
But back to the trip--we crossed the border into Baja California Sur and set our watches forward an hour (Blackness set Mingo's for him when we stopped later). Actually that preceeded Guerrero Negro, but no bother. Next stop was San Ignacio. It's an oasis in the desert. Lots of palm trees and then, out of nowhere, a river was rolling through there. It was like a paradise. The town square was gorgeous, with a beautiful mission that we admired inside and out. Courtney remarked, "Wouldn't it be amazing to get married in this church, then come outside and have your reception out in the town square?" We noted the stage in the square, which was surrounded along the perimeter by trees that shaded benches for seating. Oh, and an added bonus: Mingo and Blackness used a Banos for 5 pesos where the person in charge had trained his dog to lead you into the bathrooms. However, when Court and I tried to use it they had closed up shop for a siesta. Apparently around 3PM or so everything shuts down in San Ignacio.
After eating ham and cheese sandwiches that Carl made on the tailgate of Mingo's truck, we voayaged on to Santa Rosalia. We cruised through the town there--very nice and not Americanized like Ensenada. It used to be a copper/ore mining town. They had huge industrial buildings that have long since gone out of use, but which are now a Museo. Also, there is church there (Inglesia Santa Barbara) that was designed by Gustav Eiffel. Carl said it was built to be taken somewhere in Africa, but the ship came under siege so it was brought and placed in Santa Rosalia. We drove another 40-50 km and arrived at our destino: Mulege. We cruised through the twon, which had many shops, stores, restaurants, and internet cafes (be still Blackness' heart). We drove to where we intended to set up our camp, a place titled "Orchard Village." However, it no longer was utilized for RV and tent camping. Instead, they had homes built and many sold to ex-pats. We ended up viewing one for rent. It was essentially open air; no walls or enclosed rooms, excepting the bathroom and bedrooms. Also, it had 3 double beds (por quatro hombres y dos mujeres-perfecto!). We decided to rent it for the night--at $78 US you can't pass it up! And it was Courtney's birthday after all.
No tengo nada que declarar. (I have nothing to declare.)
Estoy cansada, mejor me voy ami casa. (I'm tired, I'd better go home.)
We left at a good time yesterday, around 10:15AM or so. I drove Mingo's truck the entire day. The roads are much narrower here than in the US, but his truck is wide and at first I was uncomfortable driving it--especially around curves (Curvas Peligroso). However, following Carl's inquiry via walkie talkie, "Is your parking brake on?" I stepped it up and drove the damn thing. We stopped in Guerrero Negro (warlike black person, which Courtney exclaimed will be "the name of my first child!") for supplies. The town had many hotels, restaurants, and mercados. We got more food and filled up on petrol, although the Mexican manning the Pemex station was disputing payment and Carl kept calculating the exchange rate using Lemur's iPhone and pointing at the phone. That sorted itself out and we moved on to purchase tarps and finally depart Guerrero Negro, while Courtney verbally slapped Domingo for buying her tent a tarp--"I don't need that shit and I'm not paying for it!"). Carl's fun fact , "I've never eaten at a restaurant in this town that I liked," crackled over the radios as we drove out of town. Domingo and Courtney fell asleep and I took the iPod over, creating a Dodos and Postal Service playlist. I admit that I felt some tears roll down my face as I listened to Benjamin Gibbard sing. This thought occurred in my head: this music reminds me of Ruth. It hurts to listen to, but I don't want to listen to anything else. We'd traveled nearly 1,000 miles at this point, but I couldn't escape her. It's as if I carry her with me wherever I go. Sigh.
But back to the trip--we crossed the border into Baja California Sur and set our watches forward an hour (Blackness set Mingo's for him when we stopped later). Actually that preceeded Guerrero Negro, but no bother. Next stop was San Ignacio. It's an oasis in the desert. Lots of palm trees and then, out of nowhere, a river was rolling through there. It was like a paradise. The town square was gorgeous, with a beautiful mission that we admired inside and out. Courtney remarked, "Wouldn't it be amazing to get married in this church, then come outside and have your reception out in the town square?" We noted the stage in the square, which was surrounded along the perimeter by trees that shaded benches for seating. Oh, and an added bonus: Mingo and Blackness used a Banos for 5 pesos where the person in charge had trained his dog to lead you into the bathrooms. However, when Court and I tried to use it they had closed up shop for a siesta. Apparently around 3PM or so everything shuts down in San Ignacio.
After eating ham and cheese sandwiches that Carl made on the tailgate of Mingo's truck, we voayaged on to Santa Rosalia. We cruised through the town there--very nice and not Americanized like Ensenada. It used to be a copper/ore mining town. They had huge industrial buildings that have long since gone out of use, but which are now a Museo. Also, there is church there (Inglesia Santa Barbara) that was designed by Gustav Eiffel. Carl said it was built to be taken somewhere in Africa, but the ship came under siege so it was brought and placed in Santa Rosalia. We drove another 40-50 km and arrived at our destino: Mulege. We cruised through the twon, which had many shops, stores, restaurants, and internet cafes (be still Blackness' heart). We drove to where we intended to set up our camp, a place titled "Orchard Village." However, it no longer was utilized for RV and tent camping. Instead, they had homes built and many sold to ex-pats. We ended up viewing one for rent. It was essentially open air; no walls or enclosed rooms, excepting the bathroom and bedrooms. Also, it had 3 double beds (por quatro hombres y dos mujeres-perfecto!). We decided to rent it for the night--at $78 US you can't pass it up! And it was Courtney's birthday after all.
Que se puede hacer en las noches? (What's there to do in the evenings?)
Te invito una copa? (Would you like a drink?)
Blackness, Lemur, and I drove back into town for a beer and tequila run, then returned to initiate the evening's festivities. Carl mixed up some guacomole, which lasted about 10 segundos with this bunch. Mingo blended some yummy vodka and rum drinks (I like the bartender...). We cracked open Tecates, listened to Buena Vista Social Club and Mos Def & Talib Kweli. All of us were a bit worn out after the noche loca last night, so after a delicious meal of baked potatoes, Carne Asada, and tortillas, all were looking a bit cansado. Then Captain Carl led us on a ridiculously long walk to the Sea of Cortez, during which we walked next to an estuary with 100s of jumping fish, mangy perros, and an American boy playing Solitaire on a computer inside the comforts of his casa. Carl stated that there's mostly ex-pats that own the homes in the area outside of Mulege. Anyways, we finally reached the water and the moon, with its reflection on water lapping up on the rocky shore, was quite breathtaking. We turned back to make our way back to the casa. Upon our return, I believe Mingo said it best, "Now I'm tired and sober and just want to sleep." Carl and Domingo retired soon thereafter. I cracked open another Tecate, but couldn't finish it (party foul) and opted to retire to bed as well. Courtney was disappointed by this, as she fought to keep her own eyes open--not wanting to succumb to fatigue until her birthday was officially over. Te invito una copa? (Would you like a drink?)
Hoy esta soleado y calido. (Today it's sunny and warm)
Me siento muy bien! (I feel fantastic!)
We all slept in the next morning, well except Blackness, who woke up and went wlaking to Mulege in search of technology. Good news though: it seems that our party has decided to remain at the pimp ass casa another night. Woohoo!
Me siento muy bien! (I feel fantastic!)
Baja Entry 3
1/14/09 8:40AM Beach in Santa Rosallilita [Courtney's Birthday!]
Me lo estoy pasando muy bien. (This is hitting the spot.)
Se me esta subiendo mucho. (I'm feeling drunk.)
After a night of general shenanigans, we are all up again and breaking down camp. Court and I woke up at around 7AM, changed clothes, bathed with babywipes, re-applied deodorant, took shits in the sand, and walked over some bluffs to discover another beach. We scaled down some rocks, rocks the color of my plum New Balance shorts, to find beautiful fish swimming in the ocean. Bright orange ones. We stayed down near the edge of the rocks, where the waves were crashing up and splashing water on our legs. Then we walked back to the camp to find everyone awake and generally in good spirits post-merrymaking last night.
Yesterday was spent with 4 hours of desert/inland driving. Lots of interesting scenery, like giant mountains of rocks piled high and a dried up lakebed (Lake Champala?) that we took pictures at and looked like some kind of motley rock band shooting an album cover. Havoc ensued when driving and attempting to identify, through general consensus via walkie talkies, where to set up camp for the night. At one point Carl stopped speaking to us on the radios and after about a 5-minute silence, due to his anger with us, it was decided that we'd camp in Santa Rosallilita, approximately 15 kilometers off the main highway. We pulled into the village to see beautiful coastlines and huts and shacks housing small children, women cooking, and fisherman's rubbers hanging on trees in front of their homes. Later the next morning, Carl would comment that if this beach was in the US it would be cheek-to-jowel covered with condos and resorts. We purchased some smokes for 32 pesos each pack and some more avocados (can't ever have enough), then cherry-picked scrapwood from a pile we saw on the side of the road. Carefully plucking the scraps, so as to avoid rusty nails, Court, Blackness, Mingo, and I sang our own versions of songs we'd been listening to and yelled at one another just for the fun of it. We were mobbing around the beach in the bed of the truck, Courtney pushing the truck up to 70 mph as we drove there and back for the sundries and the wood. We returned with our bounty and ate an appetizer of Carne Asada, tomatoes, peppers, and Tapatio (Tap that Tio!) rolled in warm tortillas. Delicious. Carl also cooked up some corn and grilled chicken. We were fed and happy and got drunk discussing random topics. At some point we were talking about rugby and rugby related matters pertaining to the Fog, and Domingo kept invoking his opinions and Carl kept repeating, "Stop yelling at me," even though Domingo was speaking at a conversational level. Then I think Carl got fed up with all of us and retired to the tent. Meanwhile we enjoyed being foolish on the beach, tackling Lemur, etc. Highlight: Meandering on the beach and watching the moon rise. Beautiful. OK, cooking up breakast now and then we embark on nuestro destino final: Mulege!
Me lo estoy pasando muy bien. (This is hitting the spot.)
Se me esta subiendo mucho. (I'm feeling drunk.)
After a night of general shenanigans, we are all up again and breaking down camp. Court and I woke up at around 7AM, changed clothes, bathed with babywipes, re-applied deodorant, took shits in the sand, and walked over some bluffs to discover another beach. We scaled down some rocks, rocks the color of my plum New Balance shorts, to find beautiful fish swimming in the ocean. Bright orange ones. We stayed down near the edge of the rocks, where the waves were crashing up and splashing water on our legs. Then we walked back to the camp to find everyone awake and generally in good spirits post-merrymaking last night.
Yesterday was spent with 4 hours of desert/inland driving. Lots of interesting scenery, like giant mountains of rocks piled high and a dried up lakebed (Lake Champala?) that we took pictures at and looked like some kind of motley rock band shooting an album cover. Havoc ensued when driving and attempting to identify, through general consensus via walkie talkies, where to set up camp for the night. At one point Carl stopped speaking to us on the radios and after about a 5-minute silence, due to his anger with us, it was decided that we'd camp in Santa Rosallilita, approximately 15 kilometers off the main highway. We pulled into the village to see beautiful coastlines and huts and shacks housing small children, women cooking, and fisherman's rubbers hanging on trees in front of their homes. Later the next morning, Carl would comment that if this beach was in the US it would be cheek-to-jowel covered with condos and resorts. We purchased some smokes for 32 pesos each pack and some more avocados (can't ever have enough), then cherry-picked scrapwood from a pile we saw on the side of the road. Carefully plucking the scraps, so as to avoid rusty nails, Court, Blackness, Mingo, and I sang our own versions of songs we'd been listening to and yelled at one another just for the fun of it. We were mobbing around the beach in the bed of the truck, Courtney pushing the truck up to 70 mph as we drove there and back for the sundries and the wood. We returned with our bounty and ate an appetizer of Carne Asada, tomatoes, peppers, and Tapatio (Tap that Tio!) rolled in warm tortillas. Delicious. Carl also cooked up some corn and grilled chicken. We were fed and happy and got drunk discussing random topics. At some point we were talking about rugby and rugby related matters pertaining to the Fog, and Domingo kept invoking his opinions and Carl kept repeating, "Stop yelling at me," even though Domingo was speaking at a conversational level. Then I think Carl got fed up with all of us and retired to the tent. Meanwhile we enjoyed being foolish on the beach, tackling Lemur, etc. Highlight: Meandering on the beach and watching the moon rise. Beautiful. OK, cooking up breakast now and then we embark on nuestro destino final: Mulege!
Baja Entries: An Explanation
So I went on a road trip through Baja California and Baja California Sur. Along the trip I journaled about what happened, what I saw, and the silliness that ensued. I probably could have written much more, but often I was hungover or rushed for time if I wanted to get a plate of hot food before the others ate my share. I'm going to present my journal entries with as little editting as possible, only a few grammatical tweaks here and there and paraphrasing on occasion. I want the spirit of the entries to be as chaotic and free-flowing as the thoughts were in my head when I initially penned them on paper.
Also, there are random Mexican-Spanish phrases inserted throughout the entries. These were actually what I wrote in the journal as I was recording random thoughts. When Lemur and I went to meet everyone on the morning of our departure, we took the Cayenne to the carwash before loading up the vehicles. There happened to be a Lonely Planet display and I purchased a pocket sized "Mexican-Spanish" dictionary, strictly for amusement. The phrase I saw that sealed the deal on the purchase (in the Social section, under the heading "Sex") a series of phrases that went as follows:
Also, I liked this one: (in the Practical section, under the heading "Hairdressing")
Also, there are random Mexican-Spanish phrases inserted throughout the entries. These were actually what I wrote in the journal as I was recording random thoughts. When Lemur and I went to meet everyone on the morning of our departure, we took the Cayenne to the carwash before loading up the vehicles. There happened to be a Lonely Planet display and I purchased a pocket sized "Mexican-Spanish" dictionary, strictly for amusement. The phrase I saw that sealed the deal on the purchase (in the Social section, under the heading "Sex") a series of phrases that went as follows:
I can't get it up-sorry. (Lo siento, no se me para)
Don't worry, I'll do it myself. (No te preocupes, yo lo hago)
It helps to have a sense of humour. (Ayuda tener sentido del humor)
Also, I liked this one: (in the Practical section, under the heading "Hairdressing")
I should never have let you near me! (No deberia haberme cortado con usted!)
Anyways, there are times when the entries seem to be disjointed or nonsensical, but I believe it only enhances its authenticity. Divertirse! (Enjoy!)
Anyways, there are times when the entries seem to be disjointed or nonsensical, but I believe it only enhances its authenticity. Divertirse! (Enjoy!)
Baja Entry 2
1/13/09 5:35PM Beach in Santa Rosallilita (on the Pacific Ocean)
Que esta nuestro destino? (What is our destination?)
Donde esta mas cercana? (Where's the nearest campsite?)
We've landed on the beach. Yesterday was spent with the "systema loca" of securing proper travel documents for our travels in Baja. ("Systema loca" is a term another traveler, whom we ran into at the government office and then the bank to pay the fee, said when she was trying to help me communicate with the bank teller.) We had a hearty breakfast at Alfonso's in Ensenada, where Alfonso actually recognized Carl from previous visits, then walked back and forth and back again between the Mexican government office to HSBC Banco, due to some ridiculousness charged when one does not secure proper docs at the border.
In any case, once we got on our way, we stopped to load up on food for the next few days. This was the first of many grocery trips in which at least half the time is spent trying to make sure we are getting everything on the list and the other half is spent telling Domingo to put down the gigante marshmallows or listening to Carl say, "Why the fuck did you get that? That was in our side of the store. Get the shit on the side you were supposed to shop in!"
We spent 30 minutes or so at a stop about 2 hours later, eating pollo tacos at a roadside stand. Finally stopped, in the dark no less, at Celito Lindo (to be honest that could just be generic for "Hotel" but I just record what I see on the signs). We set up camp after mucho mumbles and grumbles due to tent difficulties (see: Carl smacking Domingo). Funny moment: realizing that the tent loaned to Courtney by Octo-Chris was, indeed, a solo tent. No worries though, she and I shared it while the boys shared the 4-man tent. I'd say we "sniggled" in reference to Metro's attempt to define the word "sniggle" as when a black person/people snuggle, but we didn't actually sniggle or snuggle. We pretty much passed out. Anyways, an attempt was made to wander on the beach, however a muddy marsh divided us and the ocean and further exploration was hindered by the darkness. And the drunkeness.
Funny moment: there was practically a full moon and Domingo was complaining about how the moon wasn't bright enough. How much brighter can it be? I mean really? Anyways, Carl also took the liberty of re-making himself as the Mexican version of the bushman (you know, the dude that hides behind pieces of shrubbery on the Embarcadero, jumps out at you, scares the shit out of you, and then begs for change), which scared the piss out of Courtney, Mingo, and myself, haha.
Other funny observations: Blackness is incapable of totally shutting a car door, Randall is officially "Lemur" and no one calls him by his actual name, and that freaking Beyonce song, "All the Single Ladies," is abso-fucking-lutely contagious. We've remade it to: "If you liked it then you should've put a Lemur on it." OK, break now. We're setting up camp on the beach (GORGEOUS) and sipping Tecates. Grilled pollo for dinner, yum!
Que esta nuestro destino? (What is our destination?)
Donde esta mas cercana? (Where's the nearest campsite?)
We've landed on the beach. Yesterday was spent with the "systema loca" of securing proper travel documents for our travels in Baja. ("Systema loca" is a term another traveler, whom we ran into at the government office and then the bank to pay the fee, said when she was trying to help me communicate with the bank teller.) We had a hearty breakfast at Alfonso's in Ensenada, where Alfonso actually recognized Carl from previous visits, then walked back and forth and back again between the Mexican government office to HSBC Banco, due to some ridiculousness charged when one does not secure proper docs at the border.
In any case, once we got on our way, we stopped to load up on food for the next few days. This was the first of many grocery trips in which at least half the time is spent trying to make sure we are getting everything on the list and the other half is spent telling Domingo to put down the gigante marshmallows or listening to Carl say, "Why the fuck did you get that? That was in our side of the store. Get the shit on the side you were supposed to shop in!"
We spent 30 minutes or so at a stop about 2 hours later, eating pollo tacos at a roadside stand. Finally stopped, in the dark no less, at Celito Lindo (to be honest that could just be generic for "Hotel" but I just record what I see on the signs). We set up camp after mucho mumbles and grumbles due to tent difficulties (see: Carl smacking Domingo). Funny moment: realizing that the tent loaned to Courtney by Octo-Chris was, indeed, a solo tent. No worries though, she and I shared it while the boys shared the 4-man tent. I'd say we "sniggled" in reference to Metro's attempt to define the word "sniggle" as when a black person/people snuggle, but we didn't actually sniggle or snuggle. We pretty much passed out. Anyways, an attempt was made to wander on the beach, however a muddy marsh divided us and the ocean and further exploration was hindered by the darkness. And the drunkeness.
Funny moment: there was practically a full moon and Domingo was complaining about how the moon wasn't bright enough. How much brighter can it be? I mean really? Anyways, Carl also took the liberty of re-making himself as the Mexican version of the bushman (you know, the dude that hides behind pieces of shrubbery on the Embarcadero, jumps out at you, scares the shit out of you, and then begs for change), which scared the piss out of Courtney, Mingo, and myself, haha.
Other funny observations: Blackness is incapable of totally shutting a car door, Randall is officially "Lemur" and no one calls him by his actual name, and that freaking Beyonce song, "All the Single Ladies," is abso-fucking-lutely contagious. We've remade it to: "If you liked it then you should've put a Lemur on it." OK, break now. We're setting up camp on the beach (GORGEOUS) and sipping Tecates. Grilled pollo for dinner, yum!
Baja Entry 1
1/12/09 9:00AM Village Fontana Hotel, Room 124
Necesito pagar por adelantado? (Do I need to pay upfront?)
I think this is officially Day 1 of the Mexico trip, because we're actually here, although nearly all of yesterday we spent together driving through California. I rode in Domingo's truck with Courtney and Domingo. Mike and Randall rode with Carl in his Porsche Cayenne. Domingo didn't actually drive his truck. Instead, Courtney drove about 2/3 and I drove a stretch too. Had some funny moments: 1) Domingo thinking he didn't have his passport circa Long Beach, 2) Mike dropping his iPhone outside a toll crossing in Mexico, which we returned to find flatter and much less functional, 3) Randall earning the nickname, "Lemur-boy," from Courtney and I (we all 3 shared a hotel room and I'm not sure why we came up with that...something to do with delirious giggling), 4) Courtney breaking out in hives from eating at some rando cantina in Ensenada.
Oh yes, forgot to mention, we're in Ensenada now. We arrived at 10:30PM or so and had decided to check in at a hotel. We were hungry and wandered around to find food and drink. I think we were all too tired to really go nuts, thankfully, and retired to our rooms early. Just recalled, we all have walkie talkies and there some ridiculousness ensued. At some point after we crossed the border, some interference came in with Spanish crackling through the radio. At first we were a bit confused, wondering if that was Carl fucking with us, but we realized it was someone else on the same channel. Then we heard Carl's voice as he distinctly proclaimed, "All your pussies stink!" Need to stop writing for now due to stupid, inane discussions occurring all around; mainly regarding Domingo's watch not being set to the correct time and the fact that he wore a watch for about 3 weeks (about a year? ago) and anytime Carl asked him for the time he'd respond, "Oh, it's not set." Ridiculousness. Luckily Blackness remedied that problem for Domingo this morning and set his watch for him. God Bless Blackness.
Necesito pagar por adelantado? (Do I need to pay upfront?)
I think this is officially Day 1 of the Mexico trip, because we're actually here, although nearly all of yesterday we spent together driving through California. I rode in Domingo's truck with Courtney and Domingo. Mike and Randall rode with Carl in his Porsche Cayenne. Domingo didn't actually drive his truck. Instead, Courtney drove about 2/3 and I drove a stretch too. Had some funny moments: 1) Domingo thinking he didn't have his passport circa Long Beach, 2) Mike dropping his iPhone outside a toll crossing in Mexico, which we returned to find flatter and much less functional, 3) Randall earning the nickname, "Lemur-boy," from Courtney and I (we all 3 shared a hotel room and I'm not sure why we came up with that...something to do with delirious giggling), 4) Courtney breaking out in hives from eating at some rando cantina in Ensenada.
Oh yes, forgot to mention, we're in Ensenada now. We arrived at 10:30PM or so and had decided to check in at a hotel. We were hungry and wandered around to find food and drink. I think we were all too tired to really go nuts, thankfully, and retired to our rooms early. Just recalled, we all have walkie talkies and there some ridiculousness ensued. At some point after we crossed the border, some interference came in with Spanish crackling through the radio. At first we were a bit confused, wondering if that was Carl fucking with us, but we realized it was someone else on the same channel. Then we heard Carl's voice as he distinctly proclaimed, "All your pussies stink!" Need to stop writing for now due to stupid, inane discussions occurring all around; mainly regarding Domingo's watch not being set to the correct time and the fact that he wore a watch for about 3 weeks (about a year? ago) and anytime Carl asked him for the time he'd respond, "Oh, it's not set." Ridiculousness. Luckily Blackness remedied that problem for Domingo this morning and set his watch for him. God Bless Blackness.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
I found the Buddha on the internet
"When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky"--random quote from the Buddha that I found on the internet. It brought a smile to my face when I read it. Oh, here's another good one: “You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” I love it. I think partly because the Buddha was all about not believing anything or accepting anything at face value; instead he advocated investigation, common sense, and really seeing for oneself the truth of anything. Maybe this is all the more interesting to me because I'm reading Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion and piecing together how insane people can be when they forfeit reason and common sense for blind, unquestioning faith and belief.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
First Timer
OK, so this is kind of random, starting a blog and all that. I've started at least half a dozen journals in my life, all of which have fallen victim to the "blank page" syndrome within 10-15 pages of the journal. I can't help it. Some people are manic-depressive, sliding up and down a rollercoaster of mania and depression, while I'm artistic-blank, sliding up and down a rollercoaster of being artistically inspired and drawing blanks.
So in any case, I suppose at the onset of this little project I will clarify why I've chosen "Oodles of Charm" as my url. It's because I can have oodles of charm when I want to. This is a phrase taken directly from Kurt Vonnegut's novel Breakfast of Champions. He is my favorite author, I use the action word "is" loosely here, since he died a few months ago, but his death did not change his current status as my favorite author. So simply because he was, does not mean he can no longer be. OK, getting off topic here...where was I? Ah yes, blogging. And clarification.
I'll get the hang of this sooner or later and attempt to limit my digressions. Although it's all those off topic, off the beaten path type wanderings of one's mind that hold the most interest to anyone. Think about it. You're in a class, a seminar, discussion group, or other what-not, and all of a sudden your mind is off in a different place. You are still sitting in your seat and presenting all the physical signs of someone who is present, possibly even involved and engaged, while the thing that makes you you is contemplating what you'll eat for dinner, the last time you had sex, why you keep wearing those shoes that hurt your toes, if wherever you're sitting and whatever you're doing matters in the least bit. Funny how that works. Some guy somewhere with a half a dozen degrees and a copy of the DSM-IV in his library might classify you as abnormal--attention deficit disorder, or something like that. You can't focus? You are easily distracted? This has been going on for an extended period of time? Boom--we have confirmation, you are abnormal. But what is normal anyways? Riddle me that.
Oh but wait, I got off topic again...
So in any case, I suppose at the onset of this little project I will clarify why I've chosen "Oodles of Charm" as my url. It's because I can have oodles of charm when I want to. This is a phrase taken directly from Kurt Vonnegut's novel Breakfast of Champions. He is my favorite author, I use the action word "is" loosely here, since he died a few months ago, but his death did not change his current status as my favorite author. So simply because he was, does not mean he can no longer be. OK, getting off topic here...where was I? Ah yes, blogging. And clarification.
I'll get the hang of this sooner or later and attempt to limit my digressions. Although it's all those off topic, off the beaten path type wanderings of one's mind that hold the most interest to anyone. Think about it. You're in a class, a seminar, discussion group, or other what-not, and all of a sudden your mind is off in a different place. You are still sitting in your seat and presenting all the physical signs of someone who is present, possibly even involved and engaged, while the thing that makes you you is contemplating what you'll eat for dinner, the last time you had sex, why you keep wearing those shoes that hurt your toes, if wherever you're sitting and whatever you're doing matters in the least bit. Funny how that works. Some guy somewhere with a half a dozen degrees and a copy of the DSM-IV in his library might classify you as abnormal--attention deficit disorder, or something like that. You can't focus? You are easily distracted? This has been going on for an extended period of time? Boom--we have confirmation, you are abnormal. But what is normal anyways? Riddle me that.
Oh but wait, I got off topic again...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
