The Day Begins

The day begins with a whisper.  I look out the window and wonder if the daylight is coming or whether I have hours to wait.  The sky is grey-blue and brilliantly lit with moonlight.  Softly, very softly, the sky lightens to grey.  If there are clouds, and I can shift in bed to see them without disturbing Ellen, I watch them turn from black to orange to maroon and then lighten, revealing their whiteness that seemed impossible just minutes ago.

It is quiet.  There are only a handful of us left here on the beach.  The sea is quiet; there are no waves and no wind.  The tide is high and the fishermen don’t leave til afternoon and the morning is silent.  I shift again and think of coffee.  I wonder when Ellen will awake and demand"nipsea".  More often than not, she wakes long before I expect her to; before I’m ready to share the day.
Or….

The day begins with a whine.  Ellen has awakened before the sun has risen and as hard as I try to convince her that it isn’t day, she announces, "it is DAYTIME mom" and demands "nipsea".  She nurses and I hope fervently that she will fall back to sleep and I can catch just a little bit more sleep.  Not once has this worked, but every morning I hope anew.  I think of coffee and after enduring the entire family piled in "my" bed, I clean the room, stow the comforters (in a futile attempt to keep them sand free) and start coffee.  Demands for one breakfast item after another; I’ve now adopted a menu of one item.  It is not always the same item, but the days of "short order cook" are over.  I have a beach to enjoy.  

Crappy Crappy Thursday

If yesterday was Happy Happy Wednesday, then surely, today must have been Shitty Shitty Thursday.  Pike and I started the day snipping at each other and the highlight (or lowest point) was when I told Jesse to "shut up".  Jamie and I sniped; Jesse and Jamie sniped; Pike and I sniped; I’m not sure if the girls got in on it - it was a day of bitching. 

to make in favor of sugar cereal - the kids have been DYING for cereal, so the last time I hit the grocery store I got puffed rice but it was sugared.  Oh My Gawd, the kids were dying!  They were in HEAVEN!  SUGAR CEREAL!  Everyday was a happy day!) to check out the bike situation.  Yesterday, on the way back from Mulege (I wonder if I’ll make it through this post without posting a sentence and the backtracking to explain it) Jamie decided that he would settle for a crappy bike (not his exact words, but his sentiment :)) bought down here and wait for Papa and Tata to bring his Bianchi Axis to him when we meet up with them in the Yucatan.  It would be the fastest way for him to get on a bike; it would be cheaper (eliminating travel to San Diego for Ellen and me - oh yeah, Jamie wasn’t going to be the one going; it would have been Ellen and I) and we wouldn’t be tied here waiting for his bike.  I’ve been starting to worry that we’re not going to get over to the mainland until Semana Santa.  Yeesh!  Sooooo, the kids have been clammoring to go to the playground (pictured previously) in Loreto and I figured he could hit all the bike shops and I’d stay with the kids and fry at the playground.

We headed to Loreto (after everyone thumbed their noses at the eggs with queso fresco that I slaved

I pulled over when the boys started hitting each other with water bottles.  I told Pike he couldn’t talk to anyone in the family after the millionth snippy retort from him to Sissy.  The day began badly and was going downhill fast.  We decided to hit the Internet cafe first thing (before bikes) to see if there was any word from The Missing Link and in the 10 minutes I used to check on cargo shipping to Mulege and email, Ellen collapsed in a sobbing heap, the boys started fighting with Jamie and Sissy simply was Sissy.  We immediately left the Internet Cafe and hit the bicycle places.  We’d seen a number of bicycles on the principal road in a temporary stall with lots of shoes, furniture and other stuff but Jamie didn’t remember any bikes that he would consider.  I thought I’d seen a Specalized, so we headed there. 

I wasn’t about to take the kids to the playground and as it was, Jamie needed me to talk for him.  We checked two rental shops, one sports shop that sold bikes and the temporary stall.  Jamie found the Specialized but when he went to the bank to get cash (oh, guess what?  when we left the beach, I recalled that I didn’t have my wallet.  We decided to leave it as Jamie had the ATM card and enough money.  So he thought.) he found that he didn’t have his ATM card.  We pooled our money (looking through the car) and came up with almost $200 pesos.  About $20USD.  The vendedor was asking $1000 pesos for the Specialized. 

Luckily (?) Jamie had spoken with someone, though he didn’t understand a word, and got a map to a bike taller (mechanic).  We attempted to follow the map, but it was really only good enough to get us in the general area.  Stopping twice and asking for directions to the bike mechanic "Many" got us finally right smack dab in front of the shop.  Course, it was closed.  BUT, it opened in about an hour.  The person who’d written Jamie the map told him that there was a shop nearby that was the best grocery store in Loreto.  We didn’t find the store by the same name as she’d written (sound familiar Mom and Dad?  Mom and Dad have found that many stores in San Felipe are called one name by the locals, but a completely different - not even close - absolutely different - name is written on the storefront) was on the storefront.  It was the only one in the area, and as the kids were close to patricide (hopefully just from hunger), in we marched and looked about.

It looked like a paradise of a store.  Lots of good looking produce (a major agricultural area is supposed to be rather close by), a case FULL of pan dulce (pastries and donuts and sweet breads), fresh tamales in buckets; this place had it all.  We ended up walking out with 10 chicken tamales, 1 pineapple tamale (I just HAD to try it), 5 pieces of pan dulce and a bag of GRIMMWAY carrots (!!!!).  (Grimmway is a major, local organic carrot producer in California.  We bought their carrots ALL the time back when we lived in a stick house :))  Each and every piece of pan dulce that I picked was something we’d never encountered before; empanadas filled with dulce de leche!!!, what looked like a cookie that ended up being an apple fritterish thing and a two layered cake of strawberry and vanilla - but that doesn’t begin to describe it.  I should have taken pictures.  So, the gringo family sat at a vacant lot and ate lunch.  We got lots of grins.  We were in a part of town that isn’t on the tourist route.  We finished up the bag of carrots and water in front of the bike shop and were soon joined by the owner and a worker.  He was most incredibly helpful.  The owner has been in bikes for 30 years and sponsors a local kids team and they are QUITE successful when they compete.  He didn’t have anything in Jamie’s size and while he pondered and pondered, couldn’t come up with anyone he knew that might have something that would fit him.  All in all, however, we spent a very enjoyable hour talking and brainstorming while the kids ran in the street.  Yeah.

On the way back home, we passed by the area where the bike had been stolen.  We HAD to take a look.  We found LOTS of new tracks; many in the same area as where it was originally stolen and many further up on the beach.  The person who has the bike is apparently local to the area.  Though we drove almost all the way to the other side of the Bahia, we didn’t see more obvious tracks nor houses, fish camps or ranches.  We did, however, find a ranch very close to a road that leads to the exact spot the van was parked when robbed.  I highly suspect the ranch.  We picked up lots of firewood and hope to have a nice beach fire soon.

Ellen took a nap on the way to Loreto (10:30am !!) and fell asleep on the way home from our bike recon mission.  I fully expected her to wake when I brought her in the trailer, but it is 9:16 and she’s still asleep.  Should be an interesting night.  Either she’ll be starving (not having eaten dinner), thirsty (not having drunk) or wake at 3am, ready to GO!

Happy Happy Wednesday

Tonight we dine on scallops fried in butter and copious amounts of garlic and refried (I simply make the beans and then smash them in the pan, adding a little of the broth and some olive oil or butter) pinto beans with Mexican scallions (more like miniature garlic than onions), cilantro, queso fresco (kind of like farmer’s cheese, purchased freshly made) and garlic.  This being "happy happy Wednesday", the kids are eating white bread.  Long ago, when we found that Jesse would eat candy all day long and his mood and actions deteriorate into a downward spiraling mess, we decided that unlimited access to candy wouldn’t work.  Pike, though he didn’t suffer the same fate as Jesse, decided to side with his brother and abide by the limit of one day a week for candy, and 3 pieces of candy on that date.  Thus was born, "happy happy Wednesday". 

Today, instead of candy, the boys decided to make a foray into white bread.  "Bimbo" is a large manufactured bread maker and we see "Bimbo" trucks occasionally in town.  The boys have a small collection of miniature Bimbo trucks they’ve talked locals out of.  Today they decided to spend their pesos on a loaf of Bimbo bread instead of candy and it has been the mainstay of their diet today.  We haven’t included the girls in "happy happy Wednesday" until their bodies are bigger, but today they got gum.  So, I guess, for all, it was "happy happy Wednesday".

Jamie has decided to try to buy a mountain bike down here (we’ve seen some in Loreto and heard that Los Barilles should have quite a few) instead of one of us traveling to San Diego.  Although I’ve said that he was going, it was really going to be me and Ellen, and truth be told, my gut was telling me not to go to TJ.  My gut was fine with Mexicali, but not TJ.  I feel like a weight has been lifted now that I don’t need to take Ellen to TJ, so I’m sure it is a good decision.  I tend to listen to my intuition more than logical thinking.  So, I guess for me too, it is "happy happy Wednesday".  :)  Course, this means getting "Sally" from the Trek Superstore to Las Vegas, and Jamie’s bike (WHAT?  You thought he was giving up the need for his SPECIAL BAJA BIKE that is the ONLY bike which will work in Baja?  No, you silly goat.  :)) to Las Vegas where we hope Papa and Tata will pick them up and bring them to us in the Yucatan.  I’ve got an itch to move again and eliminating the need to coordinate getting the bike from San Diego to Mulege means that while we’ll need to leave paradise (and with the caravan camped here on the beach, it looks less and less like paradise), we’ll be headed towards different adventure.

The moon rises have been outdoing themselves nightly; tomorrow I hope to get a really good picture.  These will have to do for now.  Thanks to Aunty Chris for sending me the article on "thirds" (photography); I’m going to keep it in mind from now on.

Of Latrines and Caravans

Pike’s advice on latrines.  "The first one had a door and a roof, but too many spiders, so i went to the second one and it had no spiders but no roof or door.  I thought the one Mom used was a dump, so I used the second one.  So then I saw Mom go to the third one; it had no roof but a part of a door (blanket hanging down) and a potty seat and it was the best one I ever saw and it had no spider webs.  So that’s the one to go to.

Everyone on the beach tonight hates the caravan.  The same caravan that hit us a week or so ago is back.  The wagonmaster had the audacity to tell us that we "couldn’t park" where we’re camped and we’d "HAVE" to move so they could sardine about 200 more campers in-between us and our neighbors.  That they had a reservation (??) and we couldn’t camp where we were because THEY had already paid.  Many people in camp physically blocked RV’s in the caravan from moving in.  We were all completely disgusted with their behavior.

When they saw that they were going to have a REALLY hard time getting their 5000 RV’s on our little beach (we’re at Playa Requeson, mom and dad) they took over the area by the latrines and the next beach.  One of the caravan members came over, looking for space, and asked me how many more units I had coming in.  I played dumb and said we had 4 kids and weren’t planning any more.  He tried again and asked how many trailers were coming into our spot.  I told him that we could only pull one trailer at a time.  Exasperated, he asked if we had friends we were saving space for.  (we, our neighbors and us, had spread all our stuff around making it impossible for them to sardine us)  I said that no, this was where we were camping.  He asked why we wouldn’t make room for the caravan members.  I told him that if someone had asked respectfully and with more tact, or even ASKED, we’d be more than willing.  His wagonmaster was an asshole and every single other camper in the camp agreed.  As such, we were all making it as hard as possible for them to camp.  The best comment came from a neighbor quite a ways down the beach.  She said, "but HEY!  You need more room because you have LIVESTOCK!!!"  (pointing to the girls dog-sized horses standing on the beach)  We all got a really good laugh out of that.

One of our new neighbors, in the biggest Class C I’ve ever seen, is a family with 2 kids.  The boy is 7 and the girl is 4 and they and our kids have been inseparable all day.  The kids are loving having new kids to play with.

Well, I’m terribly pleased to report that the "Bad Sam Club" wagonmaster came over this morning and apologized for his attitude and words yesterday.  He said he was really "stressed out" getting everyone in the campground.  While I’m very thankful for his heartfelt apology; it was obvious he was embarrassed and contrite, I can’t help but think that he’d be a LOT less stressed if he stopped trying to sardine an enormous caravan into a small beach instead of simply heading to a nearby campground.  Everyone on the beach HATES caravans; driving behind them on the road; passing them on the road; enduring the parking lot they turn beaches into; listening to their generators at all hours; I don’t know why they force themselves on others instead of simply using a campground.  And that’s my rant for the day. 

Pictures are of the kids in Loreto and at the beach.  What we now consider, "OUR Beach". 

Where the cows are likely to be on the road at night and are recognized ourselves.

son of a beach

Well, we’ve begun the process, and the biggest hurdle has been crossed; we have a bike (exact same bike as the stolen one) which should be in San Diego by the end of the week.  We hope.  We’re used to "Mexican time" and hope we don’t run into the same clock in California.  We’ve been doing incredible imitations of beach bums; lying about on the beach, playing in the water and sun, hunting for clams and scallops, lazing about like slugs (which is quite necessary since Ellen has decided the the time to rise is just before the sun). 

We’re thinking that Jamie and Sissy will head up to San Diego at the end of the week to pick up the bike and "Sally".  They’ll take a bus to Tijuana, a cab to the border and then they’re on their own to get to a hotel and/or bike shop.  The bike shop is in Coronado, so any public transportation advice would be appreciated. 

We’ve had scallops the last two days due solely to Jamie and Pike’s expertise in finding and digging them up.  Jamie is in seventh heaven with the hunt and the feasting.  IT doesn’t hurt that they’re doing it in perfect weather and with incredible scenery.  The tide is getting more and more extreme which seems to follow, as the moon is getting more and more full.  I’m not sure what day it is, but I do know what stage the moon is in and where the tides are.  Tomorrow we’ll head to Loreto to get money (can you believe we’ve already gone through $400???) and get online. 


This evening we headed into town (about a 40 minute drive and about 28 miles) to get water; when you’re boondocking, it is amazing what the currency becomes; in the desert and at a salt water sea, it is water.  :)  We must have managed to pick the absolute worst time for Ellen.  She fell asleep (as she usually does on the drive to town) and when she awoke, in town, she was an absolute mess.  Sobbing because her brother was swinging standing; sobbing because she GOT water, sobbing because her tummy hurt (then didn’t), sobbing because she thought the dog ate her banana PEEL; you get the picture. 

Driving home from Mulege, it was dark and for once I was in the passenger seat.  The sky gradually got darker and darker; the mountains blackened but the night air was mesmerizing.  It was a very hot day today; without the wind we would have fried, and the night was warm and bright.  The moon is almost full the sky is lighter than normal.  We drove down the highway (2 lane) watching for cows and horses (which like to use the road as a bed in the evening), listening to Ellen (who by now, had done a 180 from her previous sobbing) speculate on everything from lemons to peppers.  As we drove past all the beaches, the lights on the tops of the sailboat’s masts twinkled and shone on the calm cove water; they are the only lights as electricity doesn’t come this far down.

I think we’ve found the best spot in Baja (and, we might find, all of Mexico) here on Playa Requeson.  We’re becoming so accustomed to this place; we know and recognize people in town; we know which market has the best meat, where to get the best apples, where the cows are likely to be on the road at night and are recognized ourselves.

Of Bikes and Shrimp

I’m sure someone out there can tell us what it means when a church bell tolls 59 times in rapid succession and then a few seconds later, once.  I’m still scratching my head.  FIFTY NINE times???  Ah well, the mysteries of Mexico.

We began the day with a trip to the bottom of the Bahia de Concepcion (Bay of Concepcion) to collect shells and explore.  We drove 10 miles south and ended up in what we thought was the middle of absolute nowhere.  We had driven 5 miles on a dirt road; were 38 miles south of the nearest town (3000 pop) and had seen no signs of homes or fish camps or anything.  It certainly LOOKED deserted.  We’ve been lulled into a false sense of security and haven’t even been locking the van at night (on the beach).  It is locked tonight.  When we came back from culling the beach for shells and leaving millions of clams on the beach (you could take two hands, plunge them into the sand and come up with 30 clams, easy), I found the van in more disarray than normal.  I immediately started getting mad at the boys - I found clothes strewn all over the front, spilling from the backpack. 

As I started to collect the clothes, I found my wallet.  On the front seat.  Open.  Empty.  Someone had come from "nowhere" and rifled through the car.  We eventually found most of my wallet contents (minus credit cards) but to Jamie’s horror, his Baja bike was gone.  (I admit to being a bit miffed that MY bike, apparently, wasn’t GOOD enough; it lay untouched in the back of the van)  Jamie, in a frenzy of macho testosterone, kicked everyone out of the van and took off in search of his beloved (bike).  The kids and I started walking down the dirt road, trying to follow the tire tracks of the bike.  Apparently, the thief had ridden off in it.  Quickly coming to his senses, Jamie returned ("what was I THINKING leaving you all alone out here???") and we looked about but came up empty. 

Luckily, the renters (covering our storage unit) insurance covers this loss (instead of the Mexican auto insurance, which, I’m sure, would be much more difficult to pursue a claim with) and they’re already on the case.  Credit cards have been cancelled.  Getting a police report is done with the "registro civil" which was strangely (or not?) closed all afternoon.  Police station assured me they were open.  :)  Just think!  You could register your marriage and report a robbery at the same time! 

Now we have to figure out a way to get Jamie a new bike.  Because you might as well lay him in the grave without a bike to ride.  And not just ANY bike - this has to be a SPECIAL BAJA MEXICO bike, which is why none of the other 47 bikes he has in the storage unit will work down here.  :)  We’re thinking we might send him up to San Diego on a bus (15 hours to Mexicali from here) and have him cross the border (TJ, yuck!) and stay at a hotel or something in San Diego; pick up a new bike and head back down.  Should only take a few days.  Sissy, of course, is inconsolable at the thought of being without Daddy for a few days.

The lovely pictures are from the bottom of the Bahia de Concepcion, where we spent the good part of the day.  Later, the kids had homemade ice cream in town while we tried to make a police report.
This morning when I woke I realized something else that went missing yesterday.  Shrimp.  I’d taken them in a small container (cooked) along with a lime for flavor to eat for lunch.  Guess the thief couldn’t resist. 

sunrise, sunset

One of the best purchases we’ve ever made was the Soundtrack to the Lion King.  Now that I think about it, we didn’t purchase it; my sister gifted it to the boys.  THANK YOU, Aunty Chris.  We have listened to it countless times (to the point that Pike and Jess know the chatter between the songs by heart and even Sissy knows the African words to some songs) and each and every time the soundtrack starts I get a chill.  Before we left on our trip, I took the boys (and Drew, at the last minute) to see the production in San Francisco.  Since Drew was a last minute addition, I sat apart from the three boys and bawled my eyes during almost the entire production.  I was so affected; thinking about the boys’ last great gasp together, the boys immense joy at finally seeing the production (of which they’d already memorized the score), and imagining seeing the production through their eyes.  I noticed, however, that I was not the only sniffling adult in the audience.  I was quite skeptical at first - I mean, it is a CHILD’S story, backed by Disney, and I had very low expectations.  It was breathtaking.  The costumes, the music, the dancing; it was moving and a feast for the eyes.

Other than Mexican radio, we have had no music for a long time and this morning, Sissy convinced Jamie to spend some generator juice on music (we need 110 to run the CD player).  I had forgotten how much I missed music.  The boys sing along and the girls make up dances and move to the music along the length of the trailer.  Jamie and I sit and watch them and marvel in their perfectness.
I watched the sunrise this morning; Papa and Tata are in the frozen north babysitting for a week or more and probably won’t see sun for about two weeks.  In their stead, I rose (placated Ellen by saying I had to take a pee - she lets me do that :)) and watched the sun turn the sky from grey to orange to red to orange to yellow and then sky blue.  All these pictures are from our doorway.  I can fool the little into thinking I’m taking a pee as long as I’m quiet.  Any noise that suggests anything else and the jig is up.  I really didn’t need to go any further though.  This is the same view as the one from my bedroom window and Jamie’s bed through the kitchen window.

(later in the afternoon)

This then, is the life of a true hedonist.  To think we were hedonistic before was sure pretense.  there is something about a strong sun that is so sensual; as it becomes stronger and hotter, your body feels the intensity stronger, everything seems heightened.

I began the day with the magnificent sunrise described above, followed it with snorkeling in calm waters, followed with that which we will not describe, followed by typing on a white sand beach; almost naked and wanting for nothing.  The children are alternately eating (bean and cheese burritos for everyone except Ellen who has yet to submit to the bean craze and insist solely on peanut butter, yogurt or eggs for protein) and playing whilst one of the books of "Harry Potter" plays on the tape recorder.  Smart kids; they head indoors during the heat (and intense sun) of the day.  Jamie is off riding his bike, enjoying the rolling hills and magnificent scenery.