As some of you know,I have some friends that bought some land in Baja. They go down and build some on their home,farm and the husband does some wonderful things with ferro cement. (click the photos link at the top of the page to the many things one can do with this material.)

 This last season my friends neglected to note the date their visas expired,crops needed tending,so as to not lose a seasons work, they stayed.

When all was set for their return to the U.S.A. ,they approached the boarder will no small amount of apprehension. After going through several boarder guards they finally reached the top man. The conversation went something like this:

Guard: You are Americans?

My Friends: Yes

Guard:And you stayed past your Visa date?

My Friends: Yes

Guard: To Farm?

My Friends: Yes Sir

Guard:That is the funniest thing I have ever heard!

After a whole lot of laughter,they were told to behave and let through!

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 The morning of our side trip to Todos Santos, my ankle is still twice its normal size, developing the most interesting coloration, and cannot be moved in one direction, not good signs. Several strong cups of java, a modest breakfast , handfuls of Advil and a stiff upper lift find me aboard the big blue bus for a 1 ½ hour trip to the city . Our tour guide gives up the local history, telling us interesting details about the area. The “natives” apparently live as they have always done, subsistence farming higher up in the mountains, and everyone else here is from another part of Mexico. I suspect the natives may be on to something as we pass yet another golf course, several villas, several more corporate giants and even more hotels. We see few swim able beaches, those that are safe we find hardy surfers in beautiful azure water.

We ease into less development; country that is more open and topping a crest in the road suddenly see a lush green valley, with hints of roofs peeking through ~Todos Santos. It has very narrow streets, real cobblestones, planted center dividers~ how our driver manages the turns is a marvel to see. Disembarking the first thing I notice~ warm but no humidity, we are now on the Pacific side of Baja and cool ocean breeze’s reach me~ point one in the cities favor. We walk to the Church, as biggest building it will be our meeting point for those who wander. We decide to follow the tour guide, over hill and dale to the cultural center for a quick review of the past. I am dragging one foot as quickly as I can and am a good three blocks behind the tour, but my friend stays at mid point so we do not get lost, just cannot hear what the guide maybe saying. Yet the eye revels much; this is old colonial Spanish architecture, adobe, with thick plaster, arched doorways, and high walkways. One door that stands out in my memory, with weathered old red peeling paint, that talks if one has the ears to hear of years and events long ago. The town itself it quiet, small full of friendly locals and many shops full of silver, local crafts, pottery and many fine art galleries. There is a Gringo News paper, a “green edition” of a local magazine and the smell of good food everywhere.

 We enter a “newer” building, circa 1870’s, and the first thing we see are beautiful murals done by unknown artists depicting Mexican history. All of the walls have these murals, but only two have been saved from wind, rain and the effects of hurricanes. We cross a plaza; there under a huge old tree is a recreation of a casa, complete with landscaping and even chickens in the coop, their version of Pioneer Village but on a small scale. We enter the rooms, they have the usual displays of oil paintings of past mayors, a series of native artifacts, many old black and white photos from the ages past and then the hidden treasure….there hung among several local art works she hangs, unheralded, and sap that I am, a lone tear escapes my eye…a Frieda Kahlo. She is one of my personal art heroes~ politics not with standing~ and while all the info is on small cards (left my reading glasses at the hotel) it looks to be the real thing. Others from my group, Texans who speak only Spanish, are near and notice my obvious rapture, I mutter “real”? They respond “si” and help me with my camera to get the flash on. I am not sure who is more amazed, me at finally seeing a work up close or they, that I, an obvious very white woman, even knows who Frieda is. There are two hanging there, self portraits .This is a moment I will not forget.*edit* I have done a small search for the art I saw and so far can not find reference to this particular work, but recently new art from her hand was found and these look real enough*. However, bah humbug even if these turn out to be “in the style of“~ the magic of art, surrealism at that, crossing language barriers and uniting a disparate group in wonder is not to be pooh-poohed. It was my hidden treasure.

 We wander about a bit, eating a sumptuous meal at the Hotel California, lamb burger with blue cheese and caramelized onions on locally baked bread, my companion having sea and turf quesadillas .A food mystery here~ we get the required chips, salsa and guacamole, but also a warm mystery dip the color of the setting sun, very mild heat but savory. An elderly gentleman plays classical guitar, as the fountain splashes and the ever-present sparrows look for a hand out. I am in love with this town, the spirit of these people, this place~, even as my ankle continues to swell. (*apparently, I have broken a small bone, so I write this through a pain pill haze*.)

The magic of the orange bracelet is long gone; some things linger deep within my soul. Perhaps because I was born in Santa Barbara, my early memories of Fiesta, the horsemanship, the wonder of seeing flamenco great El Greco, my love of Spanish Missions, even with all those accompanying horrors, I respect this culture so. It is an integral part of me, and my state. The final question remains is Mexico really gone as California becomes the land under my feet? Politically I suppose so, but Mexico is still a spice that has shaped our state ,as a native daughter I can not forget that. I recommend a visit.

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The big blue bus whisks us down Hwy 1, past the Jack Nicklaus Golf course, currently under construction ~ a mere $350 to play we learn.  Going past small concrete houses, villas and many hotels we embark at Melia Cabo Real, greeted by friendly Company big wigs, our choice of water, Mai Tai, Mango Margaritas and a quick registration process, were we get our day trip passes and our room keys. Also the magic orange bracelet. Taking the elevator we reach our floor, each has its own “patio’ consisting of sofa, chairs and a mirror~ I note ours has two angel heads as ornamentation.
Our room is spacious~ marble floor through out, that feel very nice on the feet and two nice views; a water feature planted with palms, vines, and manicured sand, raked like a Zen garden. The balcony view overlooks the center court and if daring enough to lean out a bit~ the sea. We freshen up go down to the water side restaurant and begin to experience the “magic” of the orange bracelet….let me just say “all- inclusive” means just that, tips and all . The food here~ from burgers to tamales is surprisingly good ~ more guacamole, chips and seafood than I could imagine. The staff is very attentive and after a great repast, our group decides to power nap through the humidity and regroup for dinner. Repeat of lunch, except of course it is dinner. We head to the main bar for more talking and drinking…the bracelet keeps working and I thank all the hard work my friend and her contemporaries did to get us here.
Mad dogs and Englishmen
We sleep in and after lunch the gang decides to walk to the beach, it is quite warn and humid, so knowing my temperament I am drinking water, between margaritas, wearing my huge straw hat and taking it very slowly. We stop at the beach bar( there is a bar nearly every where ,even the pool),and even with more water I can begin to feel a heat stroke coming on, it’s about 2p.m.,so I beg off and begin to return to my cool room. I make it up the stairs to the third landing and snap, twist, throb… I have fallen, get up wonder if my mother can get back all that ballet lesson money as it clearly has made me not graceful …then another few feet to shade where the waiter takes one look at me, brings me water ,ice and worries over me. After about a half hour, I am cool enough to limp to my room, where with a cold towel I fall into bed and sleep. My friend returns at some point to nap, and when dinnertime comes we look at my ankle, which is now 3 times its normal size. I decided to stay bed ridden, as the next day is our side trip to Tados Santos… which I will not miss! Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid day heat, indeed.
That trip to Tados Santos is worth a part three, so I will leave you with some food memories. The waterside “La Palpa” is quite good, varied breakfast and lunch service. The two places worthy of extra mention are  “La Terraza”~ where we  share a salad for two(?) have the cream of artichoke soup topped off with pulled crab and fish roe, the best fillet, topped with tomato and melted cheese ,sauced and surrounded by a few strips of tempura zucchini strips…then desert. A pristine plate of white arrives with a few sliced raspberries off to one side and what to all appearances looks like a dark chocolate pyramid, which once cracked sharply open with the back of a spoon reveals it’s contents, vanilla ice cream and a rum soaked chocolate torte base. Yum.
The last night we eat at Restaurant Kujira~ an al la carte Japanese cuisine set in a room with a huge scarlet sculpture of a whale. This place has won awards for it’s fine dinning experience and it showed, seared tuna, great sushi, tempura and a fish teppanyaki (not made in front of us)……everything tasted of heaven. My friends had the teriyaki, beef and chicken said to be excellent, my roommate a tofu soup, our shared sushi,some fish and a memorable dinner was had by all. My ankle is only about twice its normal size now, so I go off for a nightcap~ they spent the day shopping and at Cabo Wabo, Sammy Hagar’s place, so it is an early night for them. Warm breezes, warm bellies and a warm feeling of relaxation make for a lovely last night.
Tomorrow the magic and hidden treasure of Tados Santos.
 

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We meet at a fellow travelers home around 4 am for a round of Bloody Mary’s, except our driver, toast in memory of my son Christopher, and then make it to Meadows field or The Bill Thomas Airport as 1 in 10 call it. Bill has a lovely bronze bust there of himself (note to self: when I become memorialized in stone, choose age of 30, not current age, as representation of me) and going through Bakersfield Customs is a breeze. We board a mid size plane and in less than a hour find ourselves at Phoenix Airport, where a gate change has us rushing thru another security check and making our connection to Los Cabos International Airport, an Air Bus A320, just in time. This is one big plane, 320+ souls aboard, and it feels like the front “makes air” about a half hour before the back does. Then it is a 2-hour flight over cities, desert and the pacific ocean~ I see very few boarders in the sky or land. The earth and sky is open and so very beautiful from 4000 ft up, I came away with some interesting images in my head, and ones that need to make it onto canvas, soon. We land and make it through customs, pressing the button, it goes green and I am in!

The restroom is the first stop, I wait outside as my friend goes in and a mother and daughter come out. My turn, and as I am washing my hands I look up to see the attendant. She is about 4’1”,very old with the most lovely deeply lined face I think I have ever seen, offset with a humpback, coming towards me with open arms and speaking ~what I have absolutely no clue~ I am smiling and muttering “Gracias” I hug her back. We look into each other’s eyes and part ways. The interesting thing is there are only 3 stalls, my friend swears the attendant did not go in while she waited with the bags, nor was she in there while my friend, the mother and her daughter used the facilities…….jet lag? Mexico magic? My people, the freaks, the artists making me feel welcome? We get goose bumps, but I feel warm inside by this chance encounter with another woman, I feel especially welcome. I think of both my boys.

We find our big bus and take an hour and ½ drive up Hwy 1 to our hotel. The desert is strikingly beautiful, strangely like our deserts, but the odd plant to remind you otherwise. The guide tells us it rains in September, about a 1”, and it is like a national holiday. The surrounding dessert reacts accordingly, she says it becomes like a jungle, so thick and green. There are Saguaro, Agaves, Yuccas, and Cholla~ over 100 species of cacti, including Cardon, the tallest cacti. My favorite tree is called the Elephant tree~ it consists of a large whitish fat trunk (holds water) and the many small branches that emerge from it go all twisty, with the smallest green leaves one can imagine, making a fantastic looking plant. The landscape is definitely volcanic, with many a washes and hills, often the most lush spot hides a local home or small ranch~ these constructed of local materials, wood, thatched roofs stand in sharp contrast to the new arrivals. Yet the worst shanty’s we saw~ and these in the cities~ are slowly being replaced with better housing.

After going through a tollbooth, we enter La Paz and begin to see….home. First thing to greet our eyes is a McDonalds, then an Applebee’s, followed by car dealerships (Cadillac, Hummer, and Subaru), Bridgestone Tires, a Subway, a Coke processing plant and the kicker? A huge Home Depot~ with yes a place for day laborers to wait for work. I begin to wonder who is “invading” whom here and at home. My suspicions lay with the fortune 500~ not the American peoples, no matter their country of origin.

Part 2 to follow, all about the magic of the orange bracelet, the food, the twisted foot, the town, Tados Santos~ which I fell in love with. The last vacation I had, with no children to worry about or look after, was when I was 24. I do not recommend a 30-year wait to anyone…go somewhere, disconnect for 4 nights, 5 days. It did me more good than I can say to see no news, or “check “the internet" ~ I know things happened while I was gone. Nonetheless to connect with the real world, seeing the sun rise, the sunset, the moon do the same, as it has for so many years, does so much good for your soul. Perspective~ I think it has given me a much broader expansive outlook.

 Christopher ...

Oct.19,1970~~~ April 13,2004

This is an interesting day,one mixed with unendurable sadness. The image of your hands and knees ,black from the dirty city street ,you crawled dying looking for help,will never leave me.Nor will the shear loss of you,the one who could push all my buttons...and had all my love while you did it.

Another page turns, my life changes yet again,but the chapters spent with you and your brother define me. I would not have missed a minute.Thank You.

 Till soon ,son....

The other half of the mix ,is I am winging my way south for a few days for a much needed vacation. The first time I have been "out of country", and I am hoping to submerge myself in cool waters,read,rest and renew myself... as another bit of me is reborn.So in my absence,please no earth shattering events. Save the fights for when I return ,-)

Salute, friends~ here is to much more of this wonderful life.

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 I am just venting here,and really expect no answers....

It has been an emotional week for me, a week in which my dearest friend became so disassociated, they submitted to a hospital . Prior to this episode ,being depressed, they sought a doctors help, were subscribed “happy pills” and things spiraled down fast from there. I did not realize how bad this had all gotten, and then several very scary incidents were revealed to me. Excessive drinking, wild behavior, acting out in ways very much not in character to my gentle thoughtful friend. In fact engaging in what was in truth dangerous behavior. I had noticed small things here and there, tried to make suggestions, ask in gentle ways if another visit to the doctor might be in order. Then the night when I spent hours talking with my friend about stress at work, in life, trying to help find ways to deal.

Then came the confession of suicidal thoughts~ that thing that can sit between you and another, that evil, which sometimes reason, nor love, can reach. I confess, I am not at my best, my own reserves are low ~ often I have no answer to why go on other than sheer inertia and plain stubbornness. Not enough rope to toss to another human being, but I did my best.

Nevertheless, that thing~ which I have met before, that demon, that irrationality which lurks inside us all ~ in some souls more than others….I hate it and I fear it. How does one wrestle with another’s madness? It is hard enough to keep my own at bay. I have lost two dear souls already to this disease, watched a good friends family go through the loss of a daughter. Most of these suicides splashed a wash of hate from the victim across the survivors, at least it felt that way to those of us left to wonder, did I do enough, did I say the wrong thing, what more could I have done? It is like some puzzle, some maze, a trap from which there is no escape. I cannot lose another friend~ my dearest friend to this.

In the interim, the doctor has subscribed new “stronger faster acting pills”, and Xanax, which, from what I have read, is common. The doctor has finally, recommended a therapist. Before this, my friend was depressed, sad, had an extra hard life and may not have always had the best coping skills. Nevertheless, this warm human has survived, excelled even, left to fend for themselves at 13 and has endured ,no rose above what would crush most others. The human mind is the last frontier, I worry about this “scout” of medicine, and does this guide know the sure paths?

I can tell you this much, our local hospitals are not equipped to handle such a crisis, nor are some of our police officers, for that matter…. neither am I. Most of us tap dance as fast as we can, to borrow a phrase or “suck it up”, some of us are naturally more able to handle what comes down the pike, others can endure much yet reach their limits~ but there are no maps ,no orientation points in this freefall. Mental health is the elephant in the room and many more of us will have to deal with this dis-ease, either in those we love or in ourselves.

I will read, I will do a nonprofessional’s study of the things that plague my friend, I will not give up. I know I may fail, yet another time, to be the balm another so desperately needs ,or show them where their own balm resides within. However I can do nothing else but try.

If anyone knows of good secular mental health resources, recommendations will be greatly appreciated. As will all positive thoughts and prayers.

Rock Breaks Pulitzer Ceiling~Dylan gets honorary Pulitzer Prize~~

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/...

The summer of love was buried Oct. 6.1967, the funeral “Death of a Hippie” conducted by those left in the Haight, signaled the end of the grand experiment. The next year 1968 would demolish any remnants left and encase them in cement.

Beginning on Jan.5^th Dubcek is elected as leader in Czechoslovakia, John Cash records “Live at Folsom Prison”, Jan 23^rd the USS Pueblo is seized by North Korea, the end of January is marked by the Tet offensive.

Feb.1 the Pulitzer prize winning photograph of the Viet Cong officer being executed makes its way around the world, Feb.3 three college students are dead at the end of a civil rights action at an all white bowling alley,Feb.24^th the Tet offensive is halted.

March 8^th the first protests begin in Prague, March 12 in New Hampshire Johnson edges out McCarthy for the Democratic primary~ foreshadowing the deep division in both party and the country, March 16^th My Lai occurs and Robert F. Kennedy enters the race for president, March 27^th Yuri Gagarin is killed in a training flight, March 31^st Johnson announces he will not seek re-election.

Carl Brasher, the first black Navy diver wins his long fight (1966) to become the first amputee certified to make mission dives. April 4^th Martin Luther King is murdered, April 11^th Johnson signs the Civil Rights Act of 1968, April 23-30 students take over and effectively shut down Colombia University in NYC in war protest.

May of ‘68 is beginning in France leading many to believe revolution is on it’s way, May 17 th the Catonsville Nine break into a Selective Service office ,seize records and burn them with napalm, May 22 the USS nuclear powered Scorpion goes down with 99 aboard.

June 3 rd Andy Warhol is murdered, June 5^th Robert F. Kennedy is murdered, June 8^th Ray is arrested for the assignation of Martin Luther King.

There are six more months to go in this year, with both cultural highs ,the Beatles White album is released and lows, the Ho Chi Minh Trail operation starts ,by the end of the operation, 3 million tons of bombs are dropped on Laos, slowing but not seriously disrupting trail operations.

~ August 20^th will see the brutal end of protest in Prague ,and two days later the Democratic Chicago Connvention riots will start and last 7 days. Governments around the world will see their young die in plazas near and deltas far away. The year ends with the Apollo Space Mission orbiting the Moon and we see the first image of the Earth as a whole. The astronauts read the first chapter of Genesis. I was 13 years old.

It was quite the year in retrospect and I am tired from just reading and remembering about it. I got to thinking about the historical figures from the time~ started by the marking of Martin Luther Kings passing~ and that led one thing to the next like a giant hopscotch game. Having lived through that year, it does make me smile at today’s “doom and gloom” crowd. Thinking back on those great men ~both known and unknown ~ who died that year, one thing is clear~ they were men, with greatness, baseness, the ability to make good choices and bad ones. I think that is something to keep in mind as we enter the voting booth this year. We are electing mere men to offices, to offices that must work as parts of a whole. We made it through ‘68; this should be a cakewalk

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Morgan Freeman fans ~ this ones for you. Directed by Brad Siberling ,after his "Lemony Snicket's etc etc," the small film is almost student like.

The film revolves around an unlikely friendship that is a real one~simply because of it oddness and the fact it will only last one day.

"Him", an unnamed celebrity,who has not worked in four years is dropped off at a grocery store in Carson to research a part.There he meets Scarlet(Spanglish) the checker who is so much more than meets the eye.Pas Vegas is a Spanish actress to keep your eye on~ she will mature into one of the greats. It's a treat to watch Freeman ,as always,simply being himself~or at least how we think of him being.He interacts with everyone he meets,providing some light comedy to offset some deep truths here and there.

The line he delivers struck me "I sit here in this car and I don't have a real friend I could call. I realize I could just disappear". At films end the colliery is delivered "We live,we work, we are just getting started".I recommend this film to Freeman fans and film aficionados.

I can not seem to get the you tube thing to work anymore(even with the url not the embed so sorry,but heres a link to the films trailer.  http://www.youtube.com/watc... WoooHooo Thanks TomW!!!!

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http://www.youtube.com/watc...

When the cake, immaculately constructed entirely from snow, emerges from the freezer, you know a character has reached redemption.

These fine actors lift, what could have easily been a movie of the week, to something else. If you need a detailed map, this movie may not be for you~ but if you can make the leaps, it is well worth it.

Alan Rickman ~ in one of his best performances to date plays Alex, a lonely soul with a dark hidden past. Traveling through Canada, he is picked up by a young vivacious hitchhiker. In a few short hours, she breaks through his reserve and he finds her charming. You want to see more of these two, form that rare thing a friendship between vast age differences, so the events that follow make it even more shocking.

Sigourney Weaver plays Linda, the very verbal autistic mother with nuance and shows that we all have gifts to give. Carrie -Anne Moss plays Maggie, the neighbor with her own troubles, but she gives Alex an age-old cure…

A superb soundtrack is provided by Broken Social Scene, Feist, Super Furry ,the Animals and the Stereophonics.

I recommend this movie, adults only for mature themes.