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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…

Making Movies

Pink Day – It’s Not Easy – Mac Harmon

This past Saturday, I took the SeaBus to the Lonsdale Quay Starbucks in North Vancouver where I met my film/video tutor.

Originally I had signed up for a course at the Emily Carr campus. It sounded good; how to work with the Final Cut Pro program.

But the more I looked into it, I realized it was way beyond the basics of what I needed to know. Considering I had never even opened up the iMovie program on my little MacBook Air, I decided that it might be smarter to begin at the very beginning.

So I did what any self-respecting 51-year old woman would do…I hired a 12-year old.

“I’m just going to grab a cappuccino,” I said upon arrival. “Can I get you anything?”

“Sure,” said Mac, who was already seated, MacBook open and glowing, “I’ll have a glass of cold milk.”

And so we began.

I have uploaded a few uncut videos to YouTube before, but they were straight from my camera to YouTube. But since our meeting I have been working up my first little video, learning to use transitional devices and other groovy little tricks that Mac ‘Invincible’ Harmon has taught me.  My goal is to be able to edit and fine tune some of my travel pieces.

Meanwhile, Mac has about a million video projects going on his computer, a few television and newspaper interviews under his belt and has already acted in a few commercials and did I mention he just turned 12?

As I watched him flip around the buttons and icons demonstrating all their functions,  I tried to imagine what I could have taught someone when I was his age.

How to pole a boat in a swamp? How to straighten a nail for building a fort? How to bake bread? How to practice piano scales? How to ride in the back of your dad’s pickup on the way to the dump?

I’m pretty sure I am from a far, far away place in time; a place that only exists in the sepia-toned mists of my mind.

But I hope that if I keep hanging around with Mac, and working on what he teaches me, I might manage to keep one foot in the present.

Here’s hoping…

 

Repent of Your Sticky Skins

My Sticky Skin iPhone

Should I blame my crow-like love of all things shiny and gaudy on the austere religion of my childhood?

Is my fascination with icons, glow-in-the-dark Virgin Marys, Christ of the Highway statues, neon Shivas, hot pink big-bellied Buddhas and all of the tackiest shiny religious kitsch due to the Mennonite world of plain pews, no stained glass, no messy crucifixes and no musical accompaniment aside from the very upright piano?

Do I love the flamboyant colours of Latin America & the kaleidoscopic mess of India because it contrasts so dramatically from all that button-downed, Just Say No To Everything-ness?

Growing up, we were told that plain was better. (What on earth were those Catholics thinking with all those saints and statues?)

Long after my mother had died, and once I was well into my forties, my father told me that Mom had caused a bit of a stir by wearing a daring shade of darkish lipstick. Truly.

The 60s didn’t reach Mission City until the early 70s. But when those hippies hit town, and the Jesus Freak movement landed in our church, it knocked some of the stuffiness right out of the separate entrances for the men and women.

There were guitars and drums!  Raised arms and clapping in time to the beat!

But the last time I went to my childhood church, the pastor asked the audience (it seemed we were no longer a congregation) to “…give a round of applause for the production people.” Wow. It used to be that someone got up and sang – for the Glory of God -and then sat down. You didn’t clap and you certainly did NOT thank the production people.

That was years ago. Maybe it’s changed. I never went back to find out.

I am aware of the hypocrisy of my position. I may not attend church, but I want it all to stay as pure and simple as my childhood version that I no longer believe in. Yes. I know. That’s rather crazy.

But it doesn’t really matter whether I go or not. The Mennonite thing is bred into my bones. And for that I am eternally grateful.

Plain black is still my go-to colour for most of clothing. And when Kevin and I bought our iPhones, he chose white and I chose black. No sin of pride or vanity for me. No. No. NO!

Recently I received an email asking me if I’d like to try some new Sticky Skins for my iPhone. Sticky what?

I went on the Sticky Skins website. The Colours! The Designs! Interchangeable Covers!  I picked the cover that looked rather hallucinogenic. I loved it on sight when it arrived in the mail. It slid on, with nary a bubble or crease.

I’ve had it on my phone for a couple of weeks now. It looks as good now as it did when I first put it on. No peeling edges, just bright happy colours that look like they’ve always there. It makes me smile each time I look at it, even though I know that underneath all that flash and colour, it’s just a plain ol’ Mennonite-black.

Now I am suffering from the sin of pride. Because my iPhone is definitely, and rather defiantly, wearing the equivalent of a bright red, and very sexy, lipstick.

I don’t think they should call them Sticky Skins.

I think these devilish candy-covers should be called Sticky Sins.

 

 

Let’s Tell The Stories

 

Let's Tell The Stories

I’m sure there are blogger-people out there who plan and pre-write and know what they’re going to write about before they get to their computer.

Me? Not so much.

I generally start by looking through my photos or noodling around the net looking for something…of course, I don’t actually know what I’m looking for, but like a lot of things in life…I’ll know it when I see it. more »

A Day on the Drive – OR – Trail Therapy

Welcome to my World on the Sunshine Coast in Beautiful British Columbia. This is a little gallery I made up of a Day on the Drive. Now, if you’re a Vancouver reader, you probably think The Drive is referring to Commercial Drive…and you’d be half-right.

But here in Sechelt, for those of us living on Stalashen Drive, this too, is The Drive. You might have guessed we’re being a tad ironic, what with Stalashen Drive being a short little dead end beach road.  But it seems to me that it embodies much of what I appreciate on Commercial Drive, that is, the richness of  diverse and interesting people  and…okay… that’s all we have. No shops, no shoe stores, no commercial stuff, just the beach and trees and eagles and snorking sea lions.

Wait! There is a fantastic exception to this list. There’s the wonderful rolling truck bistro in Davis Bay, which is a close enough walk that we can loosely call it part of The Drive.

But before I wax on about why you MUST eat at the Feastro Truck on Davis Bay, I’ll tell you what usually happens on Friday around here.

Friday is Trail Therapy day. This means that we leave The Drive about 8:30-ish and at least two, sometimes four, though yesterday, it was five of us will drive up to the Triangle Lake Trailhead where we might meet one, or two, or sometimes, three more hikers. We hike at a very decent pace to the top where we can look out over the little prehistoric marshy lake below and then we blast back.

It is an explosion of green on this well-worn trail. There are luminous mosses, unfurling ferns, sometimes a little bear scat and we’ve even crossed paths with a cougar.

But mostly it’s just a type of oxygen that feels like the molecules must be super-saturated with freshness and all that rampant photosynthesizing. And depending on the group dynamic that day, the talk can be nothing but a bit of a panting chat, a belly-shaking bunch of laughs or it can be ephiphanous and therapeutic.  But I know that it’s all really good. There is a special exhaustion and restorative effect going on when you’re with friends and working your way through the natural world.

In fact, the studies support this. If you want to read more about why you should get out and become intimate with Mama Nature, check this link out. Or this great piece from one of my favourite blogs, The Frontal Cortex…

Which brings us to the panko-crusted Fanny Bay oysters served on the bed of Henry Reed organic greens and garnished with truck-made cocktail sauce. You knew I’d get back to that bistro truck eventually right?

I’ve declared this our new Friday tradition for dinner. We’ve eaten three different times at this feast on wheels. Everytime we try to find new superlatives to describe the experience.  The food is exceptional, but there is also different joy afoot in the instant community that is created as people sit on the steps to the beach or driftwood logs or the park benches and tuck into crinkly sweet potatoe fries with chipotle aioli. Or like we did last night; Bonzai prawns sauteed in white wine, garlic, tomatoes, lemon and served on basmatic rice with black oats and barley grains thrown in for an added crunchy and exquisite surprise.  

I hereby declare that if yesterday had been my last day on the planet, it would have been a fitting and fabulous ending. But check it out! I’m still alive.