Honeymoon – Day 1

My version:

We arrived in San Jose del Cabo shortly after noon and everything looks so desolate and poor. Nothing but brown sandy dirt, cactus, and thorny shrubs on each side of the road for as far as you can see. Most of the locals in tiny adobe houses that seem to be either only half finished or falling down. It was really quite depressing. On the other hand, policia (police) are everywhere, but not imposing like I thought. Crime here is very rare and the employment rate is 110% (just about everyone has two jobs). Nobody is allowed to have guns except the police, so everyone feels safe.

Things changed when we reached the Palmilla. It was simply gorgeous with its lush grass and palm groves. The hotel itself looked like a huge villa. As soon as we got off the bus, the valet was taking our bags away while we were getting checked in. A receptionist met us at the valet stand and walked in with us. After offering us bottled water and doing the necessary paperwork, she gave us a tour of the hotel and grounds. Going through an archway and down some stairs, you came to the pool. It had a poolside bar as well as outside light dining for lunch. Waiters came to take your drink order while another person ensured you had fresh, dry towels at your lounge chair if you were swimming or sunbathing. Above the archway and up some stairs, was another bar area, some inside, air conditioned dining, and more dining outside on the terrace. The grounds also included a workout room and a lovely chapel on top of a hill. We got to our room in the Casa Margarita (building) and immediately set to exploring it. Going first to the terrace, we found it to be private with a spectacular view of the Sea of Cortez. The main room had a deep couch with lots of pillows, a large coffee table, two comfy chairs, and an armoire that held the TV and drawers for clothes. It also had a king size bed with a beautiful wrought iron and glass headboard built into a cut-away section of the wall. The ceilings were high and slanted with two ceiling fans. On the coffee table was a huge platter of fresh fruit. The mango was the ripest, sweetest, best one I ever tasted! The foyer area contained the refrigerator and bar area. We didn’t have to fetch our own ice…it was brought to us each day. The bathroom was huge!…about the size of our office in our apartment. It featured a double-head shower, double sinks, separate toilet, a large closet with shelves, glass shelves for huge, fluffy towels, and a wicker hamper for soiled towels.

We were pretty tired from the hectic week and long flight, so we didn’t plan to go out that evening. (Note: if Kelly wouldn’t get offended, I’d kiss my boss’ feet for upgrading us to first class!…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fly coach again!) William and I decided to stroll a bit by the beach, then we went by the pool for a drink. William had a virgin strawberry margarita, but I went with the tequila version. William was looking forward to this since I’m always telling him how tequila affects me and he’s never witnessed it. My eyes popped when I saw how huge the margaritas were!….and strong! After drinking only half of it (on an empty stomach), I was really blazed!…much to William’s amusement. Without going into detail, I’ll just say he reaped a lot of benefits back at the room afterwards.

 

For dinner, we decided to eat in our room since we had such a nice view. If it weren’t so hot, we would sit outside on our terrace to eat, but we’re not used to it since Seattle rarely gets this hot. I don’t remember what I ate, but I remember that it was delicious! Later, for desert, we went up to the outside hotel terrace. A Maruichi (not sure of spelling) band was playing…….the stars were shining bright…..and a cool breeze was coming in from the sea. It was a perfect night to end a perfect day!

The staff here is very attentive. Every morning, the maid puts out fresh towels, makes the bed, etc. In the evening, she changes the towels out again, turns back the bed, and lays out hotel robes on the bed. Oh, and she puts mats on the floor by the bed so your feet can be wiped off before getting in. Nobody asks for a tip…..it’s included in the price of your room. I try by best to remember high school Spanish and do fairly well.

Between the wedding the day before and this fantastic honeymoon destination, I still feel like I’m in a dream!

His version:

Nothing will convert you to a Capitalist Oppressor of the Working Class like an upgrade to first class airline tickets.  White linen, real china, all the booze you can pour through your liver.  So it was that we started our honeymoon.  While the proletariat in coach were being slopped with hardtack and spam, those of us in first class were served a luncheon of chilled chicken breast on a bed of mixed greens with almond roca and a nicely chilled white wine.  The most wonderous luxury of all, however, was the glorious feeling of adequate shoulder room; I wriggled in my seat with sheer joy.

I confess that after several hours of this, I fell into the habit of referring to coach passengers as “peasants”.  The flight attendants, however, did not seem to appreciate it when I addressed them as “serving wench” (except one, who winked at me roundly and tried to slip me her phone number on a cocktail napkin).  Anita, however, was their darling after she announced that we were on our honeymoon.  As we exited the plane in Mexico they presented her with a bottle of champagne.  Note to self: get rich so we can do this all the time.

By afternoon the ground below had taken on a distinctly brown look, and it was not long before we descended into Cabo San Lucas International Airport.  The weather outside was in the nineties with nary a cloud in the azure sky.  The flight attendants bid us a fond farewell and we stepped out onto the sweltering tarmac.  Cabo San Lucas is about as tiny as I imagine an airport can get while still maintaining the distinction of “International”.  We wandered through customs, who stamped our documents without looking up, and then to baggage claim.  Eventually a door opened and our flight’s bags were unloaded by an airport worker who seemed determined to make a career out of unloading the bagage from our flight alone.  As luck would have it, our bags were almost the last ones to be unloaded…but at least they arrived.

From here we proceeded to the search jackpot machines. These are shaped like a big stoplight, with a large button for the traveller to press.  I’m sure that I expose my own lack of travel experience when I admit that I had never seen one before. The idea is that you press the button and either the green light comes on, in which case you pass through unmolested, or the red light comes on, in which case they take you into a side room and rifle your bags while a customs official probes your cavities.  I’m sure that there are people who pray for a red light, but I was quite relived when Anita and I both got green lights.  It can’t be clean living…

We met the representative from the agency who was handling our tour shortly thereafter, and she directed us to our bus after giving us a coupon for a complimentary breakfast at a new resort being opened close int to Cabo San Lucas itself.  Anita and I agreed that it would be fun to see what this new hotel looked like in case we wanted to come back again and perhaps stay there.

The bus itself was cool and clean, and took us through the less-touristy of the two towns here, San Jose del Cabo, on our way to the hotel.  The land at the tip of the Baja penninsula was like a collage of my worst memories of Texas with some desert nightmares thrown in.  Jagged hills of sand and dirt on either side of the road were broken up only by dusty cacti, broken barb-wire fences, and the occasional sullen-looking cow.  I had the impression that San Jose del Cabo is where most of the locals actually live, rather than the tourist mecca of Cabo San Lucas itself.  The town looked very much like one expects a small, poor, Mexican town to look: lots of bare cinderblock buildings with ramshackle roofs and Coca-cola signs used as structural material.  Not everything we passed bespoke abject poverty, but it was a grim reminder of just how well we live in the States compared to our Central American bretheren.  Obviously I will have to do something about this nagging sense of social responsibility if I am to become a true Capitalist Oppressor.

In due course we arrived at our hotel, the Palmilla, and the contrast could not have been more striking.  Once again, Anita and I climbed up into the lap of luxury.  To my undtrained eye, the Palmilla is constructed in the style of a Spanish villa; all whitewashed stucco walls, tile roof, and dark-stained wood.  The attendant met us at the drive and escorted us into the welcome air conditioning of the lobby and offered us a cool drink as we checked in.  At the same time, our bags were whisked away to our room.  Everyone spoke English with varying—but relatively high—degrees of fluency.  After we completed the requisite paperwork, an attendant escorted us to our room and left us to explore.  Our room, a “junior suite” is beautiful.  Not the least of its beauty derived from the air conditioning, but it also had a stunning view of the Sea of Cortez from the private balcony and a huge bathroom with an oversized, double-headed shower.  I immediately collapsed onto the king-sized bed’s cool sheets and announced that I was never leaving.  Anita, however, was out of her clothes in a flash and beckoning me towards the shower with a come-hither smile.  Sometime during the next half-hour it occurred to me to wonder how many other couples had done the same thing in this shower and I decided that I didn’t want to know…and, besides, they probably hadn’t done it nearly as well…

Afterwards, we towelled off and collapsed in the bed for a brief nap.  Now that the wedding and airline flight were past, we began to realize just how exhausted we had become.  When we finally drug ourselves out of bed it was late afternoon, bordering on evening.  We did a bit of exploring around the hotel and wandered down to the beach before ending up at dry side of the swim-up bar beside the pool.  Never much of a drinker, I had a coke.  Anita, however, dove right into the spirit of Cabo with a margarita the size of a dinner plate.  She offered me a sip, and if the swimmers were being served drinks of the same strength, then I’m surprised that none of them were floating belly-up with glazed eyes.  I did, however, confirm the effect which tequila has on my beloved new wife, which is to make her want to do it like crazed minks…right now!

So we did.  Back at the room, I mean, though I think if she had actually finished the drink we might have ended up naked on a deck chair by the pool.  That evening, we ordered room service.  I had a wonderful breast of duck and Anita chose the lamb.  The food was marvelous.  After dinner we wandered a bit more, eventually ending up on the veranda of the hotel restaurant for dessert.  The night was warm with a pleasant breeze, the palm trees swayed in the candlelight, and the sound of the surf breaking on the rocks below mingled with music from the trio in the next room.  My tea was warm and Anita’s sorbet was cold.  The mangos could have come from God’s own garden.  This, I thought as I sipped my tea, is the life.

Note to self: get rich.