Signs of Life
Now that we have been here in Baja for two weeks, we’re starting to feel more at home. Neither of us have ever experienced the deficit of human interaction that we have here, though. We were starting to feel a little bit of cabin fever last week and decided to venture into town . . . two and a half hours away! Although the CaliMex in Vicenti Gurira wasn’t much bigger than a corner grocery store, it felt good to get out. With only one paved road, we were struck by the amount of dust that filled the air. After a taco pescado (fish) lunch, we decided to drive down one of the rough dirt roads to the nearest beach just a couple of miles away. A few locals were listening to festive music from the back of their pickup and others net-fishing at the edge of a smelly beach littered with trash and sea life. Linda tossed a distressed little blow fish back into the water and I tried to help a half-dead crab. We later learned about the efforts taking place to bring environmental education into the schools. The sandy beach stretched out as far as I could see, and I longed for the clean ocean breeze I am so used to.
The living conditions didn’t seem to dampen the spirits of the children we saw laughing and playing fully clothed in the water. Even the children selling cookies outside CaliMex wore big smiles with no hint of despair. Everywhere we turned, people were welcoming and eager to help; from the shopper who offered to help us make change, the girls who offered to take our carts, the vendor who drew a map to the beach, the customer at the taco stand who showed us where we could find seating, the man at the oil store who came out with his funnel, and offered to pour the oil. This definitely wasn’t a tourist town, but we felt safe and welcome. I was disappointed, though, when I bought gas at a Pemex station and was short-changed $100 (about $5.50 US). I didn’t have to say a word, I counted out the change, looked at the pump, then looked back at the attendant. He pulled the missing $100 out of his pocket and handed it to me. It was a long, exhausting drive back. Linda cooked a delicious salmon dinner with wine. We laid down under the stars and played our guessing game. Went to bed at 9:30 exhausted and determined not to make the trip again.
We were refreshed to have the crew from the Sierra San Pedro Martir Condor Field Station over for lunch yesterday. They brought their condor tracking equipment, we talked about environmental education in the schools and the work yet to be done. When they saw my guitar propped up in the corner, they compelled me to play and we had a terrific time singing together. As they left, we were offered a special invitation to visit them at the station on Saturday; something that is only open to the public one day a year! We feel honored.
I received the results of my Ancestry.com DNA testing this past week and I can’t help but wonder how much of my love of travel and adventure is inherited. My great-grandparents came out west in a wagon-train near the turn of the century . . . over 100 years ago! As I’ve said before, we sometimes feel like pioneers here, especially when we are hanging clothes out on the line to dry, making soap, collecting sage, cooking over a (gas) fire, harvesting fruit, gathering eggs, being hours from the nearest store, and being without public utilities, or phone service. The peace and quiet, and nightly display of falling stars are welcome benefits. We do miss our friends and family back home and love hearing from you.
