Cabo Part II: A million pieces

Amanda and I woke up on a Sunday morning and decided to try our luck at public transportation into San Jose’ del Cabo, a little town about 15 minutes north of the resort we were staying at in Cabo San Lucas. We had arrived in the stifling heat and humidity to help my old Army buddy, Tony, celebrate his wedding. While the resort had plenty to keep us occupied, happy, and fed, we both like exploring new locations, and Amanda really wanted to dust off her Spanish.

The concierge provided us a rough map of where to go and what bus stops to get off at. We were told that the driver would shout out “Comer!”, and that would be our first stop. Then, we walk around a Hyatt to the second stop and just take the bus until the end. Confidence instilled by the “it’s just two stops,” we headed out the gates of the resort to locate the stop for bus #1 to town.

Official bus stops are merely a suggestion, which is quite disconcerting if you’re not exactly sure what you’re doing. Sure, there are some established stops with canopies, benches and even trash bins, but more often than not, the bus stops are part of group knowledge passed down from one generation to the next. We stood where we thought the bus would be and waited the 5 Mexican minutes we were told it would take to arrive to us.

We were first introduced to the “Mexican minute” when we arrived. The young man, who assured us he was with our shuttle company, told us where to wait and that in about ten Mexican minutes, we’d be on the shuttle. “Have you heard about the Mexican minute yet?” he asked us. “Nope,” we replied. “Well, time is merely a suggestion here.” Ahh, the Mexican minute. And he wasn’t wrong.

As the bus to take us on the first part of our journey to town arrives, Amanda turns to me and says, “Is the locator turned on your phone? I want them to be able to find our bodies if we’re chopped up into a million pieces.” We both chuckled. Not the hearty, “Ha Ha” chuckle but the “what if she’s right” nervous chuckle. I’d say we both had watched one too many south of the border shows.

Wait...wasn't that our stop?

In any case, on the bus we went. There weren’t too many passengers on the bus, and we were both listening very carefully for our cue word, “Comer!” to get off. Well, we must’ve missed it because before we knew it, we were in front of a Wal-Mart.  There was an American couple on the bus, and they got off at Wal-Mart, so we did too and asked them for directions. I mean, they dressed and acted like they knew what in the world they were doing so why not ask? The nice couple sent us back to the bus stop going the opposite direction and told us to get off at the next stop, walk around the traffic circle and stand across the street in front of the Hyatt. No problem. They wished us well and went off to purchase their American, bought in Mexico, and made in China goodies. Amanda and I looked at the four-lane street we needed to cross. Traffic was moving. “You up for some Frogger*?” I asked Amanda. She really does put way too much trust in me…

How hard can it be to get off at the right bus stop?

We eventually made it across the highway and to our destination, but it wasn’t without a bit of concern. And sweat. Tons of sweat because MAN was it hot and shade-less. By the time we got to town, I was soaked. We didn’t go to town in the afternoon. We left at 9:00 in the morning. Ugh. I think I might’ve whined to Amanda quite a few times about the reason I travel to Arctic climates.

We wandered down the main drag, popping into a store here and there, and found ourselves before the mission, which was gorgeous. We took the required pictures then decided to look for food. The heat was sapping my will to live and Amanda, so incredibly patient with me, agreed that food was a good idea.

The Mission. 

The shop sellers are very determined to get you to go into their stores. They have cutesy little sayings, “Hey, gorgeous! Come on in!” and “What have you got to lose?” Sometimes they try to entice you with their sales, “Today! Everything 100% off!” It’s quite amusing for the first four or five stores. After that it becomes obnoxious. We found one side of the street to be less demanding than the other, so we walked on that side.

By now our main focus was on food. And shade. And a place to sit out of the sun eating food. Perhaps that was my main focus. Regardless, we found this hole-in-the-wall place that wasn’t quite open yet, La Ostra, but the server told us to come on in. This little restaurant, in a line of restaurants and shops, was a gem. I ordered a fish taco (no beans), and Amanda asked for a taco without meat. The chef asked Amanda what she’d like, “Some potatoes? Rice? Vegetables?” Amanda told him that all of that would be good, and not to go to any trouble. Well, when our food came, and she caught sight of what the chef had made for her, her eyes got big, and I swear I saw a little bit of drool in the corner of her mouth.

Amanda's on the left, mine on the right. 

Her plate of food was beautiful. We both thought there’d be a scoop of mashed potatoes, a dribble of rice, and some overcooked veggies. We were so incredibly wrong. The presentation was beautiful, and Amanda said it was the best meal of her life. My taco was incredible – full of flavor and freshness – and I agreed that it was an excellent meal. And it cost us $20.00. For both dishes, 2 bottles of water, and 2 cokes. Hands down, the best meal we had in Mexico. Or if you’re Amanda, the best meal EVER.

Tummies full, we begin our trek back to the resort. The first bus arrives, and it’s an old American school bus. Complete with seats meant for elementary school students and a hole in the floorboard. The driver didn’t bother with shutting the passenger door, and I believe his seat was holding on for dear life with a single bolt, and a hell of a lot of prayers to whatever saint looks over bus drivers. I don’t think I’ve ever heard gears grind like that and I taught two kids how to drive on a stick. I honestly do not know how that bus was street legal.

Seriously. Do you see that????

With a sigh of relief, we get off at our stop. As the bus sputters on its route without us, we both say a silent prayer to the universe for anything or anyone that might get in its way, grateful to be off the rolling bus of doom. We still have a bit of a walk to the next bus stop, and I decided to wimp out. I just couldn’t do the heat and the sun. I found a taxi and paid $30 for him to take us about 3 miles to the resort. Amanda didn’t say so, but I know she was thankful to be traveling with a wuss this one time. The heat was absolutely brutal.

We survived our adventure into town and even enjoyed ourselves. It was nice to get off the American-catered resort and go into the American-catered town. If anything, Amanda had the best meal of her life, we can say we “experienced the culture,” and we didn’t get chopped into a million pieces. That’s a successful day in my book.

*Frogger – a 1981 video game where the goal is to navigate a frog across traffic without going SPLAT

Amanda tolerates me quite well. She deserves a medal.