This morning at breakfast we met the new people. Guess what happened to them at the airport?
Can you say, "class action suit" against Hertz?
We decided to take a cab over to Todos Santos. It is $600P ($46USD) for the day. Yes, the day. The bus over is $165P each, more than half the cost and double the inconvenience, so that pretty well settled it for us. At 10:00 our driver, Sergio, which we found out means, "man of few words" showed up.
So here we are in sunny Mexico and it is raining. As in sprinkling at breakfast, steady drip on our way to Todos Santos, and heavy rain in town. But, we drove a couple KM out this dirt road to watch the Pacific surf pound in, roller on roller, once even a tube inside a tube, all colors of green and blue, veined by the golden sand and white foam. We were hoping to see whales, but they must have not wanted to get wet as they stayed home, out of the rain. Playa la Poza was the beach, beautiful in the rain, I bet it is heartbreaking in the sun.
We walked around Todos Santos, which was cute and very small. Not being big art collectors put us at a disadvantage, but we had fun looking. As the rain got harder, everything shut down. We got tacos and beer at a little local place, sitting under a leaky palapa. By the time we left we were doubly soaked, but the fish tacos were totally worth it. Quick glance in the church: Neustra Señora del Pilar, 1700 something.
OK that's nice, let's go.
Oh, look, the "original" Hotel California.
That's nice, let's go. And so it went.
We are soaked.
That's nice, let's go.
On the drive home the roads were flooded in places (Cool! Flood! OK, let's go!) and our little B&B is like an island in a lake. We are trying to decide whether to sail or swim to dinner.
So we walked and waded the flooded streets to a Mexican-Italian place. It was warm and dry. The menu was in Spanish, and between our basic Spanish and its similarity to Italian we had no problem except for the ravioli. What is in the ravioli? I got the blanco sauce, but this other word... haven't seen that before.
So I ask.
"Duck."
Duck? I am incredulous. Duck ravioli? So I ask what any "el stupido" would ask:
"Duck? Quack quack?"
It's out there before I can pull it back in.
"Yes, quack quack duck" he relies straight faced, though I am sure this will be a good story for him to tell for the next year.
To clarify, I didn't say "quack." I made the noise, kweechk but how do you spell that?
Well, I will tell you, Italian quack quack duck ravioli, on a rainy night in La Paz, christmas lights all around, is pretty good.
So, Baja Mexico today: 61 degrees and rain. Ahhhh, the good life?