THIS COLUMN WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN WRITER’S BLOCK IN THE FEBRUARY 27, 2019 EDITION OF THE CHRONOTYPE, RICE LAKE, WISCONSIN.
As the suntan lines fade, and the smell of the ocean gets more difficult to conjure, I feel prodded to record a recent trip to a warmer climate. Before the chill finds its home again in my bones and I lose all footing on the undulating waves of snow and ice.
I observed an interesting parallel as my husband and I traversed the rippled sidewalks of Cabo San Jose earlier this month. I found myself looking down at the ground almost the whole time for fear of catching a sandaled toe on the uneven walkways. It was much the same posture one takes while walking the sidewalks during Wisconsin winters.
That’s about where the parallels end though. Cabo San José is the sleepier cousin to Cabo San Lucas, just a few miles south on Hwy. 1 in the Baja Peninsula, and a far cry in climate, cuisine and culture from here. Perfect for my husband and I, who wanted to immerse ourselves in new smells, another language and the softest air imaginable, all while running wildly away from the polar vortex.
Nick and I stayed at an AirBnB in a San José neighborhood called Chamizal. Our hostess, Susanna, a fit and gracious woman, guided us through a short tour of the upstairs apartment that would be our home for a few days. A gorgeous patio surrounded the neatly decorated one-bedroom guest loft on all sides, providing ample views of the ocean in the far distance and the colorful stepped neighborhood that rose behind and descended below the apartment. It was private and perfect.
The sounds of the neighborhood greeted us during the day, including a white pickup truck that would drive seemingly randomly through the neighborhood blasting a political radio show from a makeshift loudspeaker attached to the hood. The nights were quiet, with the exception of the occasional barking dog, or pack of dogs that would make it their agenda to visit every dog on the block.
The neighborhood was within walking distance to downtown Cabo San José, brimming with restaurants, a diverse art scene, shops, breweries and tequila/mezcal tasting rooms. Public squares teemed with passive art vendors, street performers and food carts. Walking downtown, you were left alone to peruse the scene. It felt safe at all hours, in shadows and light.
We took public transportation to a safe swimming beach (where you potentially wouldn’t get ripped out to sea by the undertow.) It was exquisite as far as public beaches go. Bathrooms were immaculate and the sand free of litter. As a connoisseur of California beaches in my younger years, Playa Chileno stood out as exceptional.
Food was also a high point. We took an AirBnB experience from a guide named Axel, who took us and another couple on a walking tour of the best tacos in Cabo. It turned into a best food and beer of Cabo as some of the vendors were closed and Axel learned our palettes were more interested in authenticity than familiarity. It turns out there are some excellent beers crafted in Mexico other than Corona and Dos Equis. Out there in the vast infinity of craft beer in the world, there is a glorious IPA crafted in Tijuana that I can’t actually remember the name of, but it was muy bien.
As I see the extended forecast calls for more snow and all cold, I have some pretty great memories of a fabulous trip to Mexico. The marks of which have yet to leave my skin and waistline.
As the snow flies, I think I’ll scroll through my photos, close my eyes and listen for the echoes of waves crashing, the vibrant quickness of the Spanish language, and pretend that the dogs barking next door are really roaming a quiet Mexican neighborhood, where I can have my café con leche in the sun.
Gently Rise, Softly Call 