Sayulita, Mexico

04 Feb

It’s been about 15 years ago almost to the day that we were here last.  Back then it was a “one horse” tiny little town, but no longer.  It’s been discovered and the town has boomed, but it seems to have retained much of its original small town feel.  We pull into town and get a couple people pointing and laughing at our bull horns I’ve recently mounted where the Ford emblem once was, and the smiles become contagious amongst many of the pedestrians who give us a passing glance.  The town is filled with gringos, but there’s a good vibe to it, cause they’re not your typical tourist.  They’re the kind of people that seek out these types of places, so they add their own character and style to the scene.

Well after a quick look around we find Sayulita Trailer Park and pull into a nice wide shady spot.  After quickly hooking up the water, power and sewer lines I go to find the password for the wifi.  I’m told I need to go over to the owner’s house where I’m met by Thaeis and his wife Christina.  Thaeis tells me it will be just a few minutes while his wife is cooking dinner and she handles all the high tech stuff.  He then asks if I would like a sip of tequila and a cigarette.  He says he only has 2 or 3 a day.  I say sure.  I usually like to have one myself after a stressful drive on shoulder less, twisty, turny Mexican hiways .  He tells me he buys this stuff by the gallon from the maker.  It’s really smooth and has a rich smokey after taste.  Thaeis has been running this place for 26 years and really knows how to make a person feel welcome.  Thaeis looks, sounds and acts like the cliche of what you think of a 77 year old Bavarian man would be.  He has silver hair with a large handle bar mustache and wears suspenders and still speaks in a thick German accent.  He runs the place with German like precision and his ingenuity is apparent by just a quick look around, but even more amazing once you notice the details of his engineering feats.  Like any good artist he tells me he can see the flaws, but as an outside observer I can only admire his work of art.  I see him roaming the place like a man that’s getting things done, but with a style and humor only someone who has been doing this for nearly 3 decades can.  He speaks fluent Spanish and his help seems perfectly content, so I can tell he treats people fair.  He also has a good sense of humor and is quick with a smile or witty comment.


Returning to the scene of the crime

01 Feb

Well, a couple posts back I told you about our long trek through a thick, dark, bug infested  jungle and passing through a gate that read “Private Property”, but I have since learned that we weren’t actually trespassing, so no crime was committed.

We had so much fun yesterday that we decided to go back, but this time to hike the entire beach to the farthest point south which is barely visible from our vantage point of Punta Raza.  We also found out from Louie that this pristine beach is slated to become the next Cancun.  Currently it’s a turtle sanctuary, but the Mexican government has 4 mega projects slated to turn desolate beaches into new Cancun style mega resorts. Ugh, what a tragedy.  More about that soon.

We got going at 10:00 am after a good morning breakfast and coffee.  We take the same route that we took the day before on the way out, but tried a new route on the way home, which was so much nicer.

Well we got to the beach, but there were no dolphins, whales or manta rays jumping this time, but the beach is just as gloriously deserted as the day before.  We walk for more than an hour on this 30′ tall Velodrome sloped beach with 10′ waves breaking just off shore.  The sound can be intimidatingly loud, but the peaceful beach, hot sun and vividly blue sky mellows it all out.

We do not see anyone the entire 2 miles, until right at the very end we meet Louie and his Basset hound who is from France and has been coming down here for the last 22 years.  He has a house just around the point.  I tell him it doesn’t look like things have changed much in the past 22 years, since there isn’t a structure in sight.  He says “There has been lots of change and none of it for the better.”  I stand corrected.  Anyway on our little walk with Louie he show us where a turtle had laid her eggs the night before  The tracks are very clear and what you would imagine turtle tracks look like.  Louie I can tell is still somewhat upset about the mega resort project and I can see why.  This place will absolutely be ruined and it’s a sad thought to think of this place swarming with fat white guys with their beer bellies so big they look like they’re 9 months pregnant.  Believe me; we’ve just hiked here through a thick, dark, bug infested jungle to get away from that. 

Anyway, enough about the stupidity of man and more about the bravery of man.  On our hike home I was dreading the boring ravine infested road home and that’s when I noticed that the old trail crosses the new road, so we opt to give it a try even though we have to crawl from the first 10 feet under a fallen tree.  I go and take a peek and yes it looks promising, so we give it a try.  I doesn’t look like anyone has hike this in years, but the trail is still not too overgrown.  I can picture Mayan Indians hiking this trail a thousand years earlier and right around the next corner I’m going to find a long lost Mayan temple.

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A long trek through the dark jungle

30 Jan

Following some vague directions from our neighbors Jen and I set out to find a hidden beach several miles through a thick dark jungle.  We find the trail that’s behind a weather sign saying “propiedad privada” and go through the barbed wire gate.


Another day of adventure

It’s a pretty established path, so I feel like we’re on the right track.  We follow it to a newly grated road that reminds me of a scene out of Avatar, where it just seems so wrong to have road torn through such pristine nature.   There is another sign that is decidedly ambiguous pointing halfway in between the new road and the jungle.  I cannot see a path through the jungle so we head down the road.  Within a half mile the road splits, so we take the one that looks more established.  We’re soon greeted by another barbed wire fence, but this one doesn’t have a gate, so we turn back  and take a right at the fork.  There is a lot of cow patties around and I’m hoping we don’t come across an angry bull.  We continue on through steep ravines where one unlucky cow was unable to climb back out.  After a couple more ravines we can now hear the crash of pounding surf in the far off distance.


The gateway to a lost paradise

At the edge of one last ravine we’re startled by something crashing down through the palm tree within a few feet of us, but I have my walking stick at the ready to smash whatever might appear out of the brush.  Luckily, it’s a “Coatimundi” a racoon looking creature with a long ringed tail that makes a quick getaway.  We come to a trail that looks promising, so we take it and are next greeted by an Armadillo rooting through the leaves and thin, dry underbrush.


Curious little creature

He doesn’t seem too concerned about our presence, but as soon as I get my camera out he decides to make a run for it.  I get a couple good snaps of him as he disappears into the now thinning jungle.  We finally go through a natural gate of thick green broad leafed stout trees which guarding a dramatically large, deserted beach with big 10′ crashing surf.  There is a rocky point just to the North and a 2+ mile long steeply sloped blonde sand beach to the South.  We decide to go North, since there looks like there could be some interesting hidden coves just around the point.  As soon as we climb over the first rocky point we see a pod of dolphins feeding very close to shore.  As soon as we get to a good view point they start leaping out of the water like crazy.  Sometimes 3 or 4 at a time.  They’re leaping 15′ or more out of the water in perfectly arched dives like you’ve seen on Flipper, Sea World or some nature show.  Once again as soon as I get my camera out the show stops almost immediately, but I think I might have got one or two good snaps.


This beautiful deserted beach is about to be the next Mega Resort.

The show doesn’t stop there.  As we look a little farther off the coast we can see whales doing their best to leap out of the water, but are definitely not as graceful as the dolphins, but a good show nonetheless given their mass.  And not wanting to be left out of the act several manta rays are doing flips just to stage left.


This beautiful beach must be at least 3 miles long.

All in all a very good reward for a eight mile hike.  We return to our beach and grab a cold cervaza and walk the few feet down to the beach to watch the sunset.  Ah, another good day on the road.


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The longest 245 miles I’ve ever driven

28 Jan

Mazatlan to Playa Ayala

First of all I would like to thank all of our new friends at Punta Cerritos RV park, especially our campground host Kip for being so patient with all of our newbie questions and treating us to such a premiere ocean front campsite, and to our next door neighbors Paul and Kirsten.  You made our stay there very memorable.  Paul is the person who loaned us his ATV a couple days earlier and we had that fantastic adventure 30 miles up a deserted beach.  Kirsten saved me from a lifetime of embarrassing photos of me in my mom jeans shorts.  Kirsten cut off a spare pair of pants with laser like precision and hemmed them equally as well as the cut.  Read a few blog post back and you’ll see where this little mishap started.

Ok, the day starts out well.  We’re all packed up and ready to head south when our neighbor Paul offers to take us into Sam’s Club to resupply.  We had tried this the day before, but the Pack vs. Bears game was on and didn’t want miss any of the action.  I listened to the game while I installed my long horns on the RV where the Ford emblem used to be.  I had purchased a pair of bull horns on our National Parks trip, but didn’t think the police in the states would take too kindly to such a modification, but down here in Mexico they’re quite the attraction.  People point smile, wave and laugh.  Sometimes they yell out “Vaquero” or “El Toro”  It’s a good ice breaker and was well worth my time and effort while listening to the game.

Anyway, once the game was over and the Pack won, we zipped off to stock up on some much needed supplies, mainly booze.  Since we’re on a budget, we try to save any which way we can and our booze bill can be sometimes bigger than our gas bill, but not on this trip.  We really haven’t gone to a bar at all.  Maybe one or four, but it’s usually just for a beer and more to get out of the RV than anything else.  Well it’s just our luck that on Sundays in Mexico they stop selling hard alcohol after 2:00 pm.

Sundays in Mexico are big family days.  I mean they’re huge!  It’s so precious to see too, since big extended families spend the whole day together and they’re having a riot.  Food, beer, beach and the whole works.  Kids running around like they’re on drugs, but they’re probably just full of sugar.  It’s something that is definitely forgotten in the states, since it’s not just mom, pa and the 2.5 kids.  It’s usually everyone in the extended family, grandma, grandpa, uncles, cousins, neighbors and the whole town seems joins in the fun.  I love it.  It’s great to see, but this little rule helps those folks who have to work in the morning get to work.

Anyway, so Paul drives us to the market and we stock up on Bacardi Anejo, 100% blue agave tequila for $4.00, Merlot for $2.50 a bottle.  I’m seeing this same stuff for twice that price in this tiny little fishing village, so we make our drinks in the RV and stroll down to the beach to hangout.  It’s a huge money saver.  Not only that we’ve been eating in almost the entire time here in Mexico.  I actually have not spent a dime outside the Sam’s Club in the last 4 days.  There’s a saying that “Peanut butter and Jelly tastes like fillet minon above 10,000′ “.  Well I’ve got to say after tonight’s dinner that “Deluxe Mac and Cheese with sliced up hotdogs tastes like T-bone steak with cheese sauce” on the beach in Mexico, especially when it’s snowing back home, and its 77 degrees here.

So I digress.  The day starts out smoothly enough.  I’ve replaced a plug wire that was in question, tire pressure, check, oil topped off, check, radiator topped off, check, booze topped off, check, Ford emblem replaced with a pair of bull horns, check so we’re good to go.

Well, we head south and get through town no problem.  We’ve got a 1/4 tank, but I asked if there was fuel on the route and I’ve got “plenty” in response.  I figured it might be a nice to stretch the legs, take a pee and grab a coke while filling up, so we passed on filling up the tank with gas.  Well there’s no fuel for the next 150+ miles.  And I’ve drain my reserve tank into the ATV just so we could buzz into town to refill the ATV that we had drained the day before.  I’m a bit stressed!  I can just picture it now that we run out of fuel on a dangerous curve with no place to pull over and “Blamo” we’re hit by a tandem fuel truck going 85 and the whole place explodes.  Well, that’s what’s running through my mind.  I pull over at the safest place possible and put the last few ounces of gas I have left in my spare can in the tank.  I probably burned more fuel just stopping than actually helping, but the psychological factor helps me calm down a bit.  We are now running on fumes and the gauge is way below E.  I think I can actually hear the gas gauge cry.  I’m freaking out, but there on the horizon we finally see some signs of life, but it’s just another toll booth.  I ask for the nearest Pemex station in my lame Spanish and she tells us it’s 12k away.  No way in hell can we get that far, but we make it.

Disaster #1 averted.
With a full tank of fuel we’re back on the road.  Well, no later than we’re out of sight of any type of civilization does the rig start to sputter.  I’m thinking of that dam fuel filter I had tried to change it while in Mazatlan, but it needs a specialize tool to replace it.  Well, the sputtering has gone from bad to worse.  It’s chugging now and there doesn’t seem like this will be a quick fix.

I pull off the Cuota road and on to the Libre road and into the first dirt turn off which now seems like we’re instantly in the middle of nowhere.  A young teenager on a small motorcycle passes within seconds of me opening the hood and yells out and points to the nearby woods as he’s passing “mechanico”.  I give him the universal both hands up in the air “what, where, how” sign as he turns his head back to see if I understood a ¼ mile down the road.  Surprisingly the kid turns around and walks me up the dirt road to what looks like a scene out of a horror movie.  There are rusted out old cars here and there, falling down palm huts here and there, and pens where various malnourished animals are held hostage.  A skinny young man wearing a baseball cap with a sparkling pot leaf immediately appears out of a dark, delapitdated grass hut carrying a big machete the size of my leg quickly approaches dangerously close to us.  Warning, warning, danger Jim, danger the robot voice in my head is screaming, but I remain amazingly calm.  The young boy asks if “insert Spanish name here” is home.  “No, he will return after 5:00 pm, which is about 2 hours from now.  Ok, we will wait “aqui”.  I smile and say “Buenos dias” and turn around with the boy, keeping one eye on the guy with the machete.  In my imagination which is now in hyper drive the machete is dripping blood and the young man is missing an eye along with a partially exposed skull.  He is probably too full from gorging on the last tourist who stopped here to eat us now, so he’s probably going to wait to get us tonight.

As I turn around the skinny dogs who have suddenly filled the dirt path behind us scurry away like rats exposed to sunlight.  Now I’m thinking I’ve got to fix this problem and now, cause there is no way in hell I’ll be able to sleep a wink tonight in this place.  I quickly take off the “dog house” covering of the engine and look for any obvious signs of a malfunction.  Nothing on the driver’s side, so I go over to the passenger side and there like a glowing star in a dark night is a plug wire that has come off the spark plug.  I joyously point to it to show the young boy who is still here “ problema aqui” and promptly reattach it along with making sure all the others.  The engine is red hot, but I’m not going to risk that this one is the only one loose, so after a few singed finger tips we’re ready to roll.  I offer the kid a cold cervaza for his help, but his refuses.  Hmm, at that age I’d love to have a cold beer on a hot afternoon, but he smiles and waves goodbye as we jump into the rig and turn back to the Cuota hiway.

After spectacularly steep decent on a very twisty turny narrow road from Tepic we arrive in Playa Ayala.  We stumble into Los Definos and meet Richardo.  I ask him “quonto questa per noche” and he tell me $150 pesos, which is $12.50 per night.  Our best price yet with full hookup and wifi.  We’re basically in spitting distance from one of the nicest beaches in the area.

I’m going to have to edit this, but please check back soon for edits, additions and photos.

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Like a Jedi Knight

26 Jan

Mazatlan, Mexico 01/20/2011

If it wasn’t for this blog, days would blur into one another.  Well, scratch that, they already do.  I try really hard to retain some sort of reality, but when it’s nothing but sun, surf and cervazas it gets a little difficult.
Today, was no different.  I had a few things to get accomplished today, but got them done before 8:00 am.  That’s when our neighbor offers up his ATV unsolicited.  I’m all for it, but Jen wants to do “something else”, but hell no, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to get out and see some things that you can only get to by an ATV.  We’re not the kind of people who do the typical tourist BS.  I want to see what’s under the rug, the road less travelled and peek into the places seldom seen.  I know it’s not always going to be pretty, but it’s real.  Although, I’ve got my own filters too, so when I see the skinny dog is eating a rotten road kill on the side of the road I have to see the positive side of it, since maybe road kill tates just like chicken.  Sure, I’m a softy, but I’ve got to select the things that I can actually change.

There are about  40 miles of deserted beach just north of Mazatlan.  Riding that ATV felt like I was in a star wars episode, only without ewoks as a slide along the velodrome sloped white sand beach.

Lately it feels like we’re living the Mexican version of the book and movie “the beach.”  Some parts of the Mexico’sWest coast are very deserted.  There a many if not hundreds of isolated beaches, islands and coves that fee like we’re the first to visit.  As we’re passing dead sea turles, sea lions, pelicans, whale bones, cow skulls and an eel that had tried to swallow a puffer fish, which just washed up on the beach and the vultures where having a feast.
We rode that thing until you couldn’t go any further, at least on the beach.  We are as far as the eye can see from our campsite and that’s when the gas gauge hit’s the last bar or an LCD readout.  Yikes, that would be a long walk back, so we ride low down on the beach near the water’s edge where the sand is harder and I can drive faster, but there’s big waves to dodge and the slope is stepper.  This is where my Jedi skills really come in handy.
We make it back, but I cannot return it unfilled, so we take a buzz into town to the gas station protected by an army guy with a sub-machine gun.  After filling up the tank I realize it’s only 2:00 pm, so we decide to take another run up the beach.  This time there is some 300+ lbs local in a micro sized car stuck in the sand where the bridge used to be.  I can’t believe anyone would actually try to make it around this thing without a 4×4, but here he is in a car smaller than a mini.  Actually after taking a second look I think he weighs more than the car.  We try our best to get him out and I actually drive the car to lighten the load, but he dug himself in deep.  After making several attempts I look and see 3 empty Ballena Pacifico bottles and now realize that only someone who drank that much beer would attempt such a thing.  It’s reminds me of some famous last words “hold my beer I’m going to try something”.  I ask him if he owns a jack and he does, so I tell him to jack up the car and put some of those timbers from the broken down bridge under the tires and take off.  I saw some rope on the beach a few miles back, but since it’s not my ATV I’m not willing to risk another person’s property.

Anyway, I’ve got more to say about this, so please check back since I’ll update this soon.

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We just missed our exit to Paradise

19 Jan

San Carlos – Mazatlan

I don’t know how many of you have travelled South of the border, but it’s not all rainbows, puppy dogs and sunshine down here.  There are real consequences for the inexperienced, so when we missed our turn off and ended up in downtown Mazatlan after 10 hours of driving I was just a little stressed.  Plus we have been driving 2 hours past dark and breaking rule number one of driving in Mexico “do not drive after dark.”

Generally speaking, driving an RV in Mexico or anywhere for that fact is not fun.  There are unwritten rules of the road that I guess only locals know, cause there are people, bikes and small cars that scurry about like cats under foot.

We didn’t have a specific destination in mind before we left San Carlos, since our guidebook just gives descriptions and recommendation, so we were going to make up our mind when we got there.  The stupid thing about this particual guidebook is that it doesn’t give driving direction on how to get to these RV parks, even though they’re RV parks.

I don’t know if I read this somewhere before or just coining it now, but I thought of this this morining and thought it was appropriate to my situation.

“You really don’t know where you are until you’re lost” 

Anway, life lesson learned:  keep your cool not matter how stressed out you are.

Well, after a “little” drama we pulled into an RV park at the North end of town.  I pull past the security gate and pull into the first empty lot.  I am quickly met by Kip, who is the campground host and gives me the low down about the place.  I tell him I need a shot and about our ordeal.  He quickly shows us a parking space that he reserves for himself to save his view of the ocean.  I mean we are a horse show toss from horse show pits, volleyball, and the pool.  But more importantly a glorious view of the beach and ocean.  Even though it’s dark and cannot really see to much I’m very grateful.  I can almost feel my blood pressure drop by half.

As the nearly full moon sinks into the Sea of Cortez I’m excited to see this place in the day light.

Stay tuned for photos.
If you don’t know  this from my previous post my laptop got stolen, so I have no way to process my RAW files.  I could shoot jpeg, but I  refuse.
Maybe I can squeeze off a few just for bragging rights.  =^ )

Stay tuned for snaps to be posted soon.


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Our first night in Mexico

19 Jan

San Carlos, Mexico 01/14/2011

I have a good story to tell, but do not have the time to type it up.
I’ll update this post as soon as I can get my thoughts in order.
Please check back soon.

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Growing Old Gracefully

16 Jan

Pulling into Pleasant Lake RV Resort in Peoria, AZ after a long day of driving and a hard weekend of drinking with old friends of ours in San Diego I couldn’t help but comment that “there’s a lot of gray hairs around here.  We maybe the youngest people around here by 15 years”, sarcastically.  Sarcasm and ignorance like that always has a way of coming back and biting me in the ass and this time is no different.

As I grab my morning S.S.S. kit and start the long trek to the bathroom I start to observe how immature my previous statement was.  These people are living large.  I mean King Kong large.  And not only that a hypocritical considering my age.  I don’t know if this just hits me for the first time, but I’ve got gray hairs now.

As I reflect upon my earlier statement and image in the mirror I realize that I am one of them, and no degree of denial is going to change that.  To prove this point I’m currently wearing a pair of “mom jeans” shorts and the same exact pair that our grandmotherly neighbor is wearing, who is no younger than 70.  In my haste packing for our trip forget to pack a pair of shorts.  It was 25 degrees and snowing when we left.  I had tried no less than 5 stores at our last stop in the states to try to find a new pair, but it’s out of season in January in Arizona and the only pair I could find in my size were a pair of denim Wrangler cargo shorts.  I mean I wouldn’t be caught dead in these in a place where anyone knew me, but we where just about to cross the border into Mexico and it was soon be be in the high 70’s and I desperately needed a pair of shorts.  I went to such a great extent to previously purchase the only stylish shorts that were two sizes to big for me in a hope to start some trend or something, but I looked like David Byrne in his Burning “Down the House” video, but with shorts instead, so I had to resort to these “mom shorts.”  So embarressed of myself that I immediately went into change.  Not only change, but in an lame attempt to justify my purchase I took a knife to them and cut a bunch of holes in them to try to make them look somewhat “hip”, but they’re so not.

As I continue to look around the RV park at some of these guys who are nearly twice my age and some of them are in better shape than I am.  To add insult to injury they also have a bit more hair.  Talk about a wake up call.  I’m wrong on so many levels on this one, especially since my statement is such a cliche.

Don’t get me wrong, because in all reality I have high respect for many of my elders and was raised by my grandparents, so IMHO I can relate to people who are older better than I can to the younger generation.

After this little self realization that ice cream social @ 4:30 tomorrow doesn’t sound so bad as I crawl into bed at 8:00.

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Smash & Grab

14 Jan

Ok, this is going to be about a 2 second post, since that’s what it took to smash our RV’s window and steal my laptop.  The scene:  We’re sleeping off a long, but  good rough night with an old friend in front of his place in Pacific Beach, San Diego, CA.  It’s 9:00 am on a Sunday 01/09/2011 and people have been walking past all morning going down to Tourmaline Surf Park to go surfing, so when I hear someone clearly say back up a few more inches, I think nothing of it, thinking he’s going to try to squeeze into our parking space. We can hear the car move clearly since the upstairs window where we’re sleeping is open and all of sudden the whole rig shakes violently and then SMASH, SHATTER, CRUMBLE as the glass falls to the floor.

I’m in disbelief as if you’re watching a movie that takes a sudden twist “Wait, that’s not what was supposed to happen.”  I pull back the curtain and watch a hooded punk pulling my laptop bag into a white Honda Prelude with a 10 digit CA license plate.  In my head I’m trying to repeat the number until I can get it down on paper.  In my despair I yell “I see you” as if this is going to make them realize the errors of their ways and turn around and returned my stolen laptop, and apologize, but what does he do?  He flips me off.  Fucking punk ass bitch, this puts me in such a rage that I wish I owned a hand gun, but quite smart on his part because I had repeated it once before they turned the corner, but got distracted by such “insult to injury” that I soon forgot.  Now I know why eye witness reports are so inaccurate.

I realize that f’tards like these are not long for this world and in the long run they’re soon to be a headline on the “Darwin Awards.”  What pisses me off more is that there is some random woman just a few yards away taking pictures of some flowers or cactus’s who witness the whole event, but doesn’t even bother taking a photo of the get away car.  It may just be me, but I hope my better instincts kick in when there is such an emergency and lend a helping hand.

This is a setback since we’re on a tight budget, but what hurts most is the broken sense of security, not matter how secure we all may think we have, no one really is.  This can happen anywhere, and to tell you the truth as I sit here in Mexico I feel more safe, because f’tard like that don’t have the access to guns as they do in the states.  FUCK YOU NRA!  In the many, many thoughts that roll through my head of how I could have done something different, it’s really futile.  That’s what great about being “young and dumb”, is that there nothing to steal.  The more we have, the more we have to worry about losing.

When these F’tards broke my window and stole my laptop, they also broke what some people seem too soon to forget: rule #1 ” The golden rule”.  Not that I’m a saint or anything, but Rule #1 is instilled in me deeply.  Sure, I’m an a dick, asshole or prick from time to time, but who isn’t?  Not that it’s an excuse, because it’s not.  No one should break rule #1.  I live it and try to breathe it everyday.  When I don’t I pay for it one way or another, and if you don’t think I do please feel free to comment.

When these f’tards stole my laptop they also stole is my so called “innocence”, since I’m a pretty optimistic person, but when this happened I started looked at people in a different manner.  Any crime victim will tell you there is a certain sense of personal violation that has nothing to do with the value of the item, but its just a sense of being violated, victimized and in the most crude sense, raped, because there is nothing you can do about it.

Anyway, to bring this story full circle I posted this incidence to my facebook status, not to get sympathy, but just to keep it real and let my friends know that this shit happens everyday no matter where you are…  A heads up to all my homies.  Well, an old buddy who I had worked with way back in the early days of e-commerce 1999 at and latter on at had planned to hook up on our way down South in Phoenix .  He meets us out at a campground he had suggested and treats us to dinner, which I thought was more than generous, but then springs that he has an old work laptop that I can have along with some gas $$.  I’m blown away, and immediately refuse, but he’s tells me it’s “no problem”.  I thank him profusely!  I’m not stating this to have people start sending me great gifts, not that I’m against such generosity, but it’s just the fact that he saw a need, came forward and donated to a person who would put such a gift to good use.
IMHO I do the same and have putting the “play it forward” to good use down here in Mexico.  I would mention his name, but I don’t think he wants such recognition.  If I find out he does I’m going to call the Phoenix Sun and have it printed in Sunday’s paper.
Thanks again KM!

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No shirt, no shoes, no problem

07 Jan

No shirt, no shoes, no problem.
That’s how I’d summarize San Diego’s attitude.
It’s as if they’re handing out free Xanax around here somewhere.  (Locals only!)
People smile, say hello and are generally in a good mood.  And why shouldn’t they be?  It’s really beautiful here.

Last night just after watching a gorgeous sunset we were just about to leave the Tourmaline parking lot when I noticed this surfer dude who was fumbling for his keys, so I asked if he could use a flash light.  He says so enthusiastically “Yes, that would be so generous of you and he shook my hand 3 times thanking me.

Surfer, “Do you come here often, are you going to go surfing, boogie boarding or body surfing?”
Me, Well, we’re from Seattle and just got here yesterday, but I was thinking about trying it while I’m here.
Surfer, “I have a friend who lives in Oregon and he says he surfs way up there.  He says the waves are good, but the water is so cold.”
Me, Seattle is about a 5 hour drive to the coast.
Surfer, “Do you get out there to surf?”
Me, No.
Surfer, “Huh” he says so lacking his prior enthusiasm as if he cannot comprehend that I don’t live to surf.  The conversation ends abruptly as if I just deeply offended him, his wife, his children and his religion.

Surfing down here is a religion to some.  When they’re not surfing, they’re talking about surfing. When they’re not talking about surfing they’re thinking about surfing, waxing their boards and waiting to go surfing.  I can understand, but at this point in my life I cannot empathize, but maybe, just maybe, someday I’ll see the light.
Later that night I find a surf board in the trash in the alley.  Missing a fin, but it’s a good sign.
Next thing I need to find is a wetsuit and I’m ready.

San Diego - Pacific Beach

San Diego - Pacific Beach

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