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Hotels on the Baja

Tropicana Inn Oasis

I am writing this from a chaise lounge at the Tropicana Inn.

Restaurant at the Tropicana Inn

Let me be more specific. I am on a chaise lounge in the stippled, rustling shade of some palms, after a late Sunday brunch in the Tropicana’s sumptious restaurant and after a good night’s sleep.

This, all of this, is a very, very good thing.

The itinerary is officially over. Josh Lurie, Bill Esperaza and Krista Simmons have gone back to L.A. and I now know that I will never ever be a food blogger. Ever.

Please don’t get me wrong. It was fantastic to experience all the great food and to learn about Baja cuisine with its emphasis on fresh and locally-sourced ingredients and the historical Asian influence that creates such fresh and sharply-nuanced tastes.

Plus, I truly believe that you cannot know a place until you eat whatever is regional. I’ve been taking food pictures and writing about food as a key travel component for years. But these guys are hard-core; going out for wood-fired pizza after a seven or eight (?) course dinner is beyond my abilities.

Even though I drew the line at the pizza, I’m not the best at saying no to whatever is presented and this body can no longer keep up to that kind of excess. This too, is probably a good thing. Kind of like that poor ol’ canary in the gold mine…

I’ll come back to some of those great meals in another post because what’s on my mind now is relaxation. In this last week I have stayed at six different hotels, inns, resorts; call them whatever you like. For one or two nights each, they have been my home away from home. This kind of trip is very informative, but not particularly relaxing. But here is what I learned so that next time I’m here, I’ll know (and now you’ll know) exactly where to stay.

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Coffee Delivery - Rancho Pescadero

Some, like Rancho Pescadero have been absolutely dramatic indulgences. I loved that Crusoe-inspired room with the sliding doors to my huge outdoor covered deck. They win the prize for their standard morning coffee and fruit delivery to the room. Piping hot coffee delivered in a basket with real cream wins my heart every time. I don’t want to make the usual tepid stuff in my room and stir in little packets of tired chemical whitener.

Hotel Casa Natalia wins a different prize for their unexpected touches; a stick of incense, matches and holder on the covered deck table next to my very own private hammock allowed me a few minutes to suspend all time and thought. The step-down in to the tiled shower alcove was a smart way to control the inevitable slippery wet tile of most other bathroom layouts. Plus, I loved falling asleep to the sound of the pool’s waterfall.

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Inner Courtyard - Hotel Casa Natalia

Like Hotel Casa Natalia, the Tropicana Inn doesn’t throw itself in your face. It is a slow dawning discovery to go down the path behind the street-side restaurant to find a tropical oasis with a splashing fountain, poolside sculptures and a jungle around the pool. In fact, all I hear right this minute is tropical birds and trickling water…and a woman, who just a few minutes ago, walked in to the pool area and said, “Is this the hotel?”

Someone I couldn’t see answered, “Yes.”

“Wow,” she said, and immediately started taking photos. I rest my case on the oasis theory.

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Poolside Sculptures - Tropicana Inn

The Tropicana has kind of a retro-motel feel with two-and three-stories of rooms opening toward the pool. My room is on the ground floor and I loved taking only a few steps to be poolside this morning. It’s nice to not to have to be lobby-presentable to just be at the pool, feels more homey this way.

This is a fine way to spend my last day on the Baja.

Tomorrow I fly out of here, so please excuse me while I go for a little siesta…

New Beginnings on Mexico’s Baja Sur

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Going Deeper

 

There is an illusion that stories have a beginning, middle and end.

But where does a story begin? And does it ever truly end?

We are in Todos Santos now. Staying at the very lovely Hotel Casa Tota. I am sitting by the pool with the steady fall of the water over the slate fountain, letting my mind wander and wonder about some of the ‘locals’ we have met.

There are the two Canadians from Vancouver, April and Alec, who have built a new business, Baja Beans; a magical coffee place that reminds me of some of the best of the Canadian Gulf Islands…kind of a funky Bohemiam vibe with on-site roasting and home of the best carrot cake EVER.

Or the Americans from California with their organic garden that supplies their new restuarant Wind and C.  Windspirit grew up on a commune in Northern California and then worked in construction. Carolen had a catering business in Menocino. The market crashed around them.

Did their story start when they met, or when the market told them to try something else or was everything that ever happened in their lives, simply leading them to this wonderful new oasis where they could build new lives and reinvent their world?

Or what about the Italians Magda and Angelo? Back in Italy, he was a third-generation restauranteur, she had her own successful restaurant, so when they merged to create their dream restaurant on the shores of a beautiful northern lake, you would think that was a fantastic new beginning to their story.

Except.

Fifty-four days of running their new successful vision ended when the earthquake of 2008 destroyed their dream. They lost it all. Did they wake to an ending? Or a complete new start?

Because they now run the amazing Italian restaurant Tre Galline, where they source local organic greens, buy fresh fish from the local fisherman and create artful feasts for the lucky people of Todos Santos.

Todos Santos is a magical place where dreamers and visionaries come to try something new.

Perhaps there are no endings. And maybe these aren’t even beginnings.

But I feel like I’ve wandered into the middle of something pretty wonderful.

Eating on the Baja

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“Toto. We’re not eating tacos any more.”

<Note to self…always say yes to any press trip where the other writers are food writers.>

Our press trip got off to a bit of a slow start, what with Bill Esparza and Josh Lurie having their flight turned around because of a loose windshield (apparently it’s not comforting when the pilot announces to the passengers that it’s making a ‘nervewracking sound’.)

By the time they got on the next flight yesterday morning, our lunch that was scheduled for 1 pm, was closer to 4 pm.

It was worth waiting for.

Carlito Cham grew up in a bi-cultural Chinese/Mexican home and the resulting mix are dishes like the stuffed lobster curry you see pictured above. There were others, lots and lots of them, like crab-stuffed banana peppers in a panko-crust with a mango sauce, or cracked crab dripping in a messy sticky superb sauce that had everyone eating their own hands. You know…just your typical Mexican fare.

Carlito’s Restaurant is down a dusty road between Pescadero and Todos Santos; a little oasis that you definitely want to find. After stuffing us senseless we were sent on our way.

To Rancho Pescadero, right by the ocean, where I’m typing this right now.

I am stretched out on a chaise lounge, on a huge open deck that faces the pounding Pacific. My coffee will be delivered to my door in ten more minutes after one of my best sleeps in a long time (was it because of the wood-framed glass wall that completely disappears so that I was sleeping in an open-sided treefort to the breeze and surf? or was it because I felt as stuffed as a big ol’ turkey at Thanksgiving?)

But let me tell you about Chef Bueno. His name is for real and so is his cooking.

We arrived – just as the sun was showing off with spectacular streaks of magenta and purple – and after driving down a bumpy road, past lots of  healthy-looking gardens. Turns out all those wonderful plots are the organic fodder that  fueled our meal.

Thankfully, dinner wasn’t until 8:30 and after a Hibiscus martini by the pool, I could almost detect hunger pangs. That was a happy coincidence as Chef Beuno was clearly on his game.

Gazpacho that tasted of sunshine and summer. Empanadas with an intense gremolata. Halibut fresh off the boat. Foccacia with the crispest, lightest chew I’ve ever ever tasted.  And quite possibly the best pork chop of my life. Tasting plates kept coming out of the kitchen as the chef told us how he wanted to ‘take us around the world’ with his cooking. He definitely took us on a culinary tour but created it all with food firmly grounded in the Baja region.

Things have certainly changed around here since I was last here (apparently a lot can happen in 15 years).

Locally sourced & organically grown is catching on everywhere. It is certainly not the exclusive domain of any one region. But I think the Baja, with such an incredible growing climate and culinary geniuses, just might have the whole thing nailed.

I’ll keep you posted…sounds like we’ll be going out for a few more good meals yet.

You know…just your typical Mexican fare.

Baja Trip

Baja Mexico 2009

Baja Paddling


 
It’s funny how fast things can shift.

On Tuesday my week was unfolding in a fairly-Vancouver-ish way. Between the rainy bits, I would walk, write, and generally carry on with my life. But Tuesday night it all changed.

Because that was when I was invited on a press trip to the Baja.

The last time Kevin and I were in the Baja, was in 2009. We went there for a kayaking trip (hence the photo above).

As for the last time we were in Cabo? I’m thinking it’s been quite a few years, probably a dozen. (When on earth did it become normal for something to have happened over a dozen years ago? I still believe I’m in my early twenties. Clearly this would be evidence to the contrary).

I’m pretty sure I had declared to all who would listen, that once I got back from San Miguel de Allende, I would NOT be leaving again except to go to France at the end of April. Yes, well…

I was talking to a good friend the other day. She told me that her latest thinking is to pay attention to what “gets her jazzed” and to then have faith and trust that energizing feeling to see where it leads.

So. In spite of my announcements and declarations and very good intentions to stay home and dutifully do what I said I would do, I decided to notice my excitement. And what I noticed is that when I was asked to go on this trip…I got excited. Seriously excited. I love Mexico.  And I’m going to follow that jazzy trail all over the Baja like a hound on the scent.

My tickets came through an hour ago. I leave tomorrow morning. Stay tuned.
 

Writing About Death

 

Mom at her Mother's Funeral
I grew up going to funerals.

That’s just the way it rolled in the Mennonite world. My earliest memories are of standing among the headstones as another black casket went into the ground.

By the time I was twelve, I’d probably been to more funerals than weddings…and I’d been to lots of weddings. It was generally accepted that the whole church was invited to either event.

The way I grew up, if you scratched a Mennonite… you’d find a funeral waiting to happen. Everyone knew that life was something to get through, the suffering required so that ultimately you could reach the big reward of your spot in that heavenly Hymn Sing.

There was nothing quite like gathering in the cool austerity of the church basement while drinking multiple cups of weak coffee, eating  thick sugary squares and talking about someone who wasn’t there. Of course…that could also describe a wedding.

And, unless you were listening closely to the sharing (and if there was a definite absence of an open casket at the front of the church), it was pretty hard to distinguish between the two main events.

It wasn’t until grade eight, with my newly expanded circle of non-church friends, that I discovered not everyone had photo albums stuffed with dead relatives. How mortifying to discover that my new friends found it odd to have close-ups of dead people  among the family vacation photos.

But even knowing that some found it strange, I found it even more amazing that some people had never been to a funeral at all.

Last Saturday I was on a panel at the BC Chapter of the Travel Media Association of Canada professional development day. I was part of  a group of writers and PR people who were fielding questions on the do’s and don’t's of operating with integrity on either side of that fence.

Somehow the topic of death came up…I swear I didn’t introduce it.

But it circled around the question of what to do if there’s a death on the cruise ship, train, kayak trip or whatever trip you’re currently being hosted for, and that you’re supposed to be writing about. Judging by most of the responses, it seemed the majority felt that death would be a subject best left out of the travel story.

In defense of my response, I just want to add that I can’t recall a day of my childhood where my mother wasn’t listening to CFVR’s funeral report, how else to explain my quick defense of death as a fine and worthy topic.

Granted, it’s not usually the first thing you see on an ad to Disneyland, but think about it.  Could there be a much more convincing reason to go on a trip?  ”You’re going to die so come see Mickey before you do!”

Hmm…maybe not.

I have had two stories published that included death as a fairly central theme. The first one published in WestWorld magazine and themed around a dead body I saw while floating down India’s Ganges River.

The more recent story was prompted when someone died while Kevin and I were on a bicycle trip in the Czech Republic. I wrote about that in an Adventure Cyclist story that intertwined some of the dark layers of Czech history with the tragedy of the man who lost his life while cycling.

Death is not an easy topic to tackle. And I understand it’s not a particularly catchy lead to most travel stories.

But if I’m not exactly fond of the subject, I am certainly familiar with it. Death, after all, is a large part of the reason Kevin & I retired. We knew there was no guarantees on this ride.

Besides. I grew up going to funerals.