Suenos de Polvo

I heard a song today on the radio with the chorus "suenos de polvo." It means "dreams of dirt." I won't read into this too much, but it's a part of the rural culture of Mexico (or probably anywhere else, for that matter) that I like. There's pride there.

I just got back from the Casa Toto restaurant. I was walking back from the taqueria (where I went to pick up some tacos for the night watchman, who hadn't eaten anything) and heard an old guitar player playing Trova, which is a musical style I fell for when in Guanajuato 9 years ago. So after delivering the tacos I came back to the bar. I asked for a port, but since they had none I was offered a pomegranate tequila (tasty), then progressed to a glass of wine. The proprietor, Christine, sat me down with some of her expat friends, but after a few minutes I grabbed a chair and went to sit in front of the old guy (santos) playing the guitar. As I was going for my glass of wine, I stopped in my tracks because he started to play "Contigo Aprendi," which is an old Trova song that was covered by Nicho Hinojosa, my favorite musician from back in the Mexico days. I was just listening to Nicho's album earlier that day.

So, I finally met the expat community here. It reminded me of the community in Lencois, Brazil. Small, respectful of the locals. I can't say much more than that.

My day started with another healthy breakfast (and some huevos rancheros... Not healthy but seriously delicious), and then started day 2 of surfing. I tackled some big waves today, and have a pretty good feel for things. What's difficult is reading the waves. The pros know which waves to take, where to take them, when to paddle, when to give up, etc. without this knowledge, you waste a lot of energy. I did pretty well when the instructor was telling me "take this wave" but drank a lot of salt water when on my own. Tomorrow is the last surfing day and my goal is to ride some truly big waves all the way in. I think I can do it.

I stayed at the beach from 10:30 - 3:30. I broke out my camera on the way back and gained some momentum, so instead of going back to the hotel I drive down some random dirt roads, and eventually got on the highway toward La Paz. Lots of cacti, not much else. I had a good soundtrack going (stp, soundgarden were prominent, as was Santana to start the trip). I got halfway - about 30 minutes out - and decided to come back. Honestly, it was fun to just drive wherever - window down, warm weather outside, music blaring. Fun stuff. I ended up trying to find the local beach but ended up at a sea turtle protected beach, and I didn't feel like breaking the law so I came back to the hotel.

I showered up and asked Pepe if he had any recommendations on what to do, and he gave me proper directions to the local beach. Got some nice subset photos (which now completes my set - sunrise phitos from the north carolina coast, and sunset photos from baja). I then went straight to a taqueria (see photo) - amazing tacos. I had forgotten that tacos in Mexico and tacos in the states are different. Not by a ton, but they are. Pastor, asada, cheese, and a bunch of toppings. Delicious.

The rest of the day I already told you about.

Sometimes if you are open to chance, then chance takes you in pleasantly unexpected directions. After surfing I had planned on simply coming back to the hotel and reading. But, my intuition told me to do something else. What I ended up with was a mini road trip, cool photos, sunset on a beach (I was one of exactly two people on the entire beach), amazing tacos at a truly local joint, and Trova music - something I haven't heard live in 9 years.

Last thing before I go to bed. Knowing Spanish has, once again, opened a ton of doors. I can communicate with people here. I have no fear about going anywhere or talkikg to anyone because I can hack it (mostly). Even the slang I learned 9 years ago comes in handy. I'm thankful to Mrs. Harden and my Spanish teachers.

Anyway, I didn't finish my book today as planned, but I'm glad I didn't. Life had other things in store.

Todos photo 4

Baja California Sur from the plane. Not much goin on down there. This is looking east toward the sea of Cortez.

Todos photo 2

Another reading spot... My hotel, the Todos Santos Inn.

todos santos photo 1

One of my reading spots today... In front of the theater.

Todos photo 3

Rainclouds and mountains... After leaving the airport.

Regreso a Mexico

(typing quickly from my iPhone because I refuse to use a computer while on vacation...)

It's hard to believe, but the last time I was in Mexico was in december of 2003, after I had been here for 4 months learning Spanish. I had such an affection for the country after my months here, and it took me a while to get back.

On Friday I landed in cabo San Jose airport after a 3-hour flight from SFO. I rented a car (upgraded to a jetta so I could plug in my iPhone for music, and to make damn sure that what happened in brazil - a broke down rental - didn't happen again). In immigration I saw the typical idiot American with a 10x jumbo size sombrero. He was undoubtedly going to cabo San Lucas. I was very happy to drive straight through cabo on my way to the more tranquil environs of Todos Santos (not to be confused with Poco Santo, the Mexican town in The Three Amigos). I stopped by a local taco joint in san jose (taqueria mexico) recommended by the rental car guy, then drive straight up the coast.

Cabo is exactly what you think it is - nice hotels like the Westin, etc, but you could pretty much call it "las Vegas," "cancun," or any other mega resort enclave... They're all the same. I read in Lonely Planet that Sammy Hagar's birthday is a legit, big time event in cabo. Pass.

The weather was actually quite rare for this area at this time of year - clouds, lightning, but not much rain. It made for some dramatic scenery on the 1:45 drive from the airport to Todos Santos. The highway is still being worked on in preparation for the G20 meetings in june, but definitely passable. There's not much between cabo and todos santos, so I put the window down, cranked up my music, and enjoyed the scenery.

I had no idea where my hotel was, but since the town is small I figured I'd find it, which I did. The hotel is a converted home of an old sugar cane baron. Really cool place. 7 rooms, courtyard, small pool, library, bar, and restaurant. All the reading materials are in English. Telling.

Anyway, I was happy to have picked a good hotel, and after a few moments of "ok, what the hell do I do now?" I went to sleep at 10.

In the morning (today), I woke up after one of the best nights of sleep ive had in a long time... Solid 10 hours. Breakfast (included in my stay) was an omelette, fresh oj, and fresh fruit. Great way to start the day.

I left to drive 20 minutes to the surf lesson beach, but somehow missed the turn. So I pulled into a residential area and asked a few bystanders, and one woman told me how to get there and asked if I could take her and her runny nose baby there. Why not.

With my personal guide, we made it to the beach (she also told me about her family's ranch in the mountains that hosts tourists... Probably won't have time for it this trip, though).

Surf lessons with Mario. Mario is Mexican but speaks perfect English. E set me up with one of his instructors, Carlos. I did pretty well. The lesson was short, but I picked it up pretty quickly. He said tomorrow we'll tackle some bigger waves. Believe me, they're pretty big waves. I'm excited.

After some lounging at the beach and talking to mario and a few gringos that came by, I came back to the hotel and went out for lunch. Delicious, gourmet stuff, and I took my time. Chocolate mousse for desert? Yes please.

I walked around todos santos, which took all of 45 minutes. There is more, but I didn't feel like walking into any art galleries or buy any trinkets, so figured I'd go on a run later to explore. I read at the hotel for a couple hours and talked to some more gringo hotel guests. After asking Pepe, the hotel caretaker, what he was drinking (wine), he gave me a glass on the house.

I went for a run in the "real" todos santos, showered up, then went to the local theater. On my run the guy in front asked me to come back at 8. I couldn't understand what actually happened at 8 - either bingo or a theater production. Turned out to be a theater thing. There were about 10 people in the audience. I figured it would be nice to have some local culture, but this was painful. Fail. I left quietly after 30 minutes. (the play was about old women who try to hire a male stripper).

I had dinner at a normal place, and spoke Spanish with the waiter. Funny thing about everyone here - they will not speak spanish to you. Even if you keep on speaking Spanish, they try I speak English. Granted, most f the tourists here are older art gallery-types who probably don't know a lick of Spanish themselves (I'm judging here, but am probably right). So I get it. But it's annoying - not that they speak English, but that this town is overridden by gringos.

I came back to the hotel and Pepe was watching a boxing match on the computer, so I got a glass of port (my favorite) and watched it with him and the night watchman. NOW I could speak some spanish! The night watchman had some pretty graphic things to say when the obligatory "hot women in Mexican beer ads" came on. I can't repeat specifics here. He knew a few choice American words, and used them awkwardly.

... And that's the day. In between my activities I did a good amount of reading. Tomorrow is more surfing, and I will try to finish the book i started on the plane flight here. It's a smarty-pants book on behavioral economics and global development. I like it.

In all, a very good day. I'm resisting the urge to do stuff; rather, I'm adopting the muy tranquilo vibe of this town.

Bedtime.

Born in a small town...

Let's put Gossling aside for the moment.

Tomorrow I fly to Cincinnati, where I'll spend the week doing client work. Then I go to Durham for my Fuqua reunion. I've been to Seattle three times in the past two months, Boston/Connecticut last week, and next week I'll be in a small town on the Baja Peninsula. I signed up for a 10-day canyoneering trek in September through Outward Bound. Over memorial day I'm going with business school friends to Yosemite for the weekend. I'll be in DC and then immediately to Durham for weddings in early June. Wow. I say this to point out that this year I'm getting to see a lot of different places, and everywhere I go I think "is this for me?". I'll be honest - I am very happy living in San Francisco. It's a good life. BUT, being able to see all of these different places in quick succession has me thinking about my natural state... Where is my home turf? Where am I most myself? I think this is an important question to answer, and act upon.

When I was in Cincinnati a few weeks ago, I took the super shuttle from Kentucky (where the airport is) into "the Nati.". I could feel it... The feeling was different. It felt familiar to what I know. When I got to the hotel, I immediately jetted off for a run through the university of Cincinnati campus. Weather was warm, sidewalks were plentiful, and it was quiet. Hm. Big rush.

A couple months ago I went to Oakland to and out with Lloyd, a friend from college. We went out to a place called the "Missouri Lounge"... True dive bar. We walked there from a totally normal Mexican restaurant... No pretension. When I came back to Lower Haight later that night, i noticed, and FELT a) more people walking around, and b) hipsters. Dare I say that I preferred the "realness" of Oakland?

Connecticut last week. I took the train from Boston down to Mystic, CT, where grandma lives. I tried to work on the train, but couldn't help but stare out the window. What might otherwise pass as mundane - patches of trees, back yards, even empty lots (now that I mention it, ESPECIALLY empty lots)... Again, it felt more like home. Felt right. I get the same feeling when I'm taking the Link train from the Seattle airport into downtown.

Last example for today - the suburbs. Yes, the suburbs. I grew up in them. I know that people don't like them. There are indeed aspects of the burbs that I grew tired of. No doubt about it. I don't think I want to live in the burbs, but a place like Durham... Hmmm. Even a neighborhood with small back or front yards would do.

Am I glorifying the small(er) town? Or is there something to these thoughts? I wrote all of this while on the bike at a gym, instead of outside enjoying my own neighborhood, so maybe I'm full of it. But I don't think I am.

By the way, Neil Young's still got it: check out "walk with me".

Even More Cool

If the first Ryan Gossling song didn't do it for you, this will:



Gossling.

Feeling Cool

1) Go watch the movie Drive with Ryan Gossling

2) Listen to this song over and over: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-DSVDcw6iW8&ob=av3e

3) Feel about 100 times cooler than you actually are. BUT, for the few minutes you're listening to the song, you ARE in fact cooler. You... are Ryan Gossling. 

Back Porch Music

Whenever it was possible, one of my favorite rituals in Durham was to wind down the weekend (which were usually busy) by working out at the East Campus gym (about a 7 minute run from my apartment), stopping at Whole Foods on the way back and buying a healthy meal, then listening to "back porch music" on WUNC.

It's been a great weekend, and, just like in Durham, I feel the need to listen to some good 'ol Appalachian music.  Here's the link: http://wunc.org/programs/backporchmusic/