The drive from the airport to our destination-Hotel Riu Santa Fe, Los Cabos, was about forty minutes of complete and utter excitement, and a bit of culture unfamiliar to us from which passed outside the bus window.
Dusty. I noticed each car that we passed was completely dusty, then again anything on either side of the freeway wasn't paved, least of all in some sections where businesses stood old and in clusters.
Much of the landscape reminded me of Kamloops BC; dry and desert like.The closer we got towards the coast we began to see big box stores, golf courses and eventually coming down near the water with the freeway hugging an amazing coast line (one I'll never forget) and the many rows upon rows of resorts with clusters of Palm trees. Most importantly 'Palm trees.' I adore them. I know I'm-far-from-home when I see Palm trees~
By this time on the bus-I've sipped at that cold Corona in my hand down to almost empty. I feel light and easy for the first time in what it seemed like eons, chuckling inside my head of the difference between Canada and Mexico.I couldn't have chugged anything in a moving vehicle at home, or legally had a conversation with myself with my hands waving about theatrically like (coughs...)
Shortly after that thought we turned off the freeway and followed a narrow road. The bus turned right onto another narrow road that lead down to a large arch where the bus was stopped, identified, and told to proceed on to the hotel. Either side of the road was perfectly manicured grounds.In the foreground you could see the impressive Palace Hotel, also on the same grounds as the Santa Fe, which we were staying at.
The Palace looked like Aladdin's home by all measures; very princely like, that which it's guest's could visit the party grounds of the Santa Fe but the Santa Fe guest's hadn't the access to the Palace. It was quiet over there.I peeked through the foliage (coughs..)obviously the Palace guest's were partying with the Santa Fe's guest's-"ahem."
Exiting our shiny, big-blue-bus to the open doors of the Santa Fe was thrilling."We-had-arrived" I screamed in my head with excitement and crossed my heart. I was still alive. No plane crash or attempt on my life was revealed......"coughs!" go figure? Just then I thought I should probably get over my neurotics.
Entering the lobby dragging my suitcase behind my husband I was found stunned at the beautiful open lobby, and small birds that flew fanciful from one large rot iron chandelier to another..
I was then handed a strawberry margarita by a very pretty-short-employee who smiled and greeted me with a, "hola." I knew what she said because my daughter Lil is studying Spanish in high school.
By the end of the trip I learned a small hand full of Spanish words, though, found myself saying "hola" frequently back to the large numbers of well kept employees that never passed me by on any given- lovely paths, court yards, pools, bars, lobby, restaurants, and beach, were not without a smile and greeting.
The employees of the Riu were extremely hard workers and very gracious, even if some didn't know a lot of English, they smiled and helped the best they could. That said, pointing went a long way, so did laughter.
Our first full day at the resort was met with an amazing morning of full sun and warm winds. The beach was of white sand and stretched for miles in both directions.The water was amazing, aqua blue in colour. My heart pounded with beats of excitement when I saw the waves crashing in on the beach.One particular day the waves were massive, nothing as I've ever seen.I spent many moments giving up beach loungers that guest's clambered around for a simple beach towel on the beach to watch those amazing waves roll and roar.
With our bodies caked in suntan lotion my husband and I began our three mile trek down the beach with carefree steps in and out of the water-destination? Los Cabos Marina.
Once past the string of beach resorts and dozens of vacationers mingling on the beach, the marina came into view.Gorgeous boats floated gallantly with a leisure hand.A row of fishing boats were busy strumming up fishing excursions and feeding the fat seals from the back of the boat. With every step we were stopped and asked if we wanted a water taxi or a deal on a excursion. Politely we would decline and smile, while still walking. On occasion a witty local would say something to make us laugh, like one man who called my husband Casper.And another few local salesmen who pointed out my white ball cap with Canada embroidered in red on it, and, said they were from Canada too, with a silly grin.None of them ever said,"eh." Presuming they've not been to my country. Speaking about countries? you know when your in another country when....you don't see a Tim Hortons coffee shop for seven days, and? can't find a decent cup of coffee on your whole trip.Just say'n is all.Everything else from food to cold beverages was bountifully delicious."I'm crazy-for Coco Puffs!"
Sorry.Lost myself there.
The marina was a buzz of tourists for sure, adding to the economy almost single-handedly.
Every open bar, cafe, restaurant, and numerous vendors on foot and in the market were vying for your attention. If there was poverty in Mexico, it was hidden miles away from the tourist's.On our way home at the end of this trip I did however notice in passing the dusty dirt roads and shack like homes along the freeway and up the side roads. I felt a sense of guilt for what I had and what I had just experienced in a vacation, a rare vacation.It made one wonder of the wages given to the locals that worked endlessly- so it seemed at the Hotel Riu, leaving one to wonder if a job at one of the many resorts along the beach were considered prime employment. And if so? Perhaps they were simply the lucky ones.Hm....(wandering mind).
Within the sanctions of the resort there was no thought or whispers of the countries struggles.With million dollar yachts and cruise ships in the bay one could not help but to indulge in all the pleasures an all inclusive hotel wraps up with a shiny bow, featuring wealthy people in the bay and cocktails poolside.And a dose of guilt.
The second night at the resort while milling about and drinking cocktails in the open courtyard we met two of the most amazing, down to earth, Canadian women. Both friends.One from Yellow Knife and one from Calgary. Both I believe might have been in their early fifties. I called them ,"the ladies."
Throughout the rest of our vacation we met up and bumped into the ladies on many occasions.Once in town at the Harley Davidson open patio, by chance for afternoon drinks, and a few times at the hotel watching shows on stage.We laughed so hard everytime we bumped into eachother (such stories were told). And one morning I met the ladies for breakfast where we cried for one another with personal stories, which still I feel deeply rooted in my heart-that morning.Those lives.One and all. The same pain. And the same healing near the aqua water on the veranda.I'll most likely not see these women ever again, but, hm... I'll not forget them.
Till next time. Building five and the group of Vancouver Island guy's stag.And five beach weddings.Oh, and, is everyone from Canada? Canadian's invade Mexico.