Cabo San Lucas

On nearly every vacation, trip or excursion I've ever taken, I am the one that plans things out. I'm the one with the map, the guidebook, the train schedule, and the annotated to-do list. It's me who carries around the giant purse laden with extra tissues, band-aids, a water bottle, two cameras, a charger, Advil, and an extra map just in case that first one flies away. I can't help this Type-A preparedness of mine. I blame it on being a Girl Scout, but it's also partly because the one with the map is the one in control (or so I tell myself).

In preparation for a work trip to Mexico last May, I did much less than my usual obsessive level of pre-departure research. Outside of flipping through one brochure I picked up at last year's NYT Travel Show, I didn't read up on the best restaurants or the must-see attractions, and I didn't endlessly scroll through Instagram trying to plan out photo ops before I even got there. A business trip is entirely different than a for-pleasure vacation, and I was to be at the ready at all times to attend to my boss' and the client's needs. Sight-seeing was not on the schedule. I simply got on a plane, sped through the airport in Mexico City in an attempt to make my connecting flight (spoiler alert: I did, but barely), and followed a vaguely-worded email to find a guy named Mush who would drive me in a sketchy white van through the backroads of the Baja Peninsula to a hotel on the ocean.

From there, I followed an equally vague daily schedule that gave me and the other production assistant ample time to wander the gardens of a renowned organic farm. We contemplated the origin of tropical fruits and vegetables (omigod mangoes grow on trees!), picked up random Spanish vocab words (muneca = doll; mantel = tablecloth), watched our lunch get cooked over a giant open roasting pit, and ate some of the best crew meals we've ever tasted. But our hours were long - early morning to well after sun down each day, and after working ten hours under the hot Mexican sun the only thing I wanted to do each night was shower and collapse into bed.

The event went extremely well. The client was pleased, my bosses were pleased, and I executed my task of monitoring a dozen mini-projectors way more smoothly than I did the previous month at a similar event in Hawaii. But there was still no down time. We needed to be back at the farm by 6am the morning after the event in order to load up the trucks and shut down our production tent and watch the empty truck get stuck coming up the dirt road and wait for a machine to come to clear the road so the truck could get unstuck and then finally for reals load up the truck and say our goodbyes and have one last delicious meal at the most captivating farm-to-table restaurant I've ever had the pleasure of patronizing.

It was around 1pm when we made it back to our hotel. We were officially off the clock and the rest of the evening was our to do as we pleased. I looked at two of my coworkers. "Should we see the arches?" I asked. "What are those?" they asked. "They're these natural stone formation in the ocean. I saw a picture. They looked cool." I said. "Sure." They said. "We can take the rental car." said David.


After a quick nap, the three of us were on our way to the end of the Baja Peninsula, or as the locals tourists call it, Land's End. But we still didn't have a plan. We weren't really sure where exactly these arches were or how to see them, but we were at least heading in the right direction (south). After a couple wrong turns down trashy and spring-break-bar laden Cabo streets, we found a parking lot with open spots. As soon as we got out of the car, a man approached us. "Want to see El Arco?" he asked. "Si!" we replied. "The boat leaves in two minutes! We must hurry!" he said.

I soon found myself once again following a strange man into a sketchy vehicle, although this one was accompanied by a $15 "boat fee" and a separate $1 "dock fee." We were granted permission to board the water taxi and immediately set sail for the choppy waters of the Cabo San Lucas Marina.

It was an utterly delightful ride. We somehow timed it out so that we were on the boat at golden hour, which is really the best time to do or see anything. The captain didn't speak any English, and when I asked him what caused the arch to form (earthquake? tetonic plate shift? global warming?) he gave a giant grin, pointed at a giant seal sunbathing on a rock and said "Si! Sello!!" and then arched his neck back and let out a eerily accurate seal bark. Our seal friend threw us a sideways glance and responded with an annoyed "arf."

45 minutes later and we were back on dry land. Then a walk around the marina, some nachos and guac, a giant margarita, and a Yelp consultation that led us to an Asian-fusion restaurant for wine and ceviche and ramen and coulis-covered sherbet. An evening full of good food and wonderful company fueled entirely by uncharacteristically spur-of-the-moment decisions. While I am in no way going to stop planning and researching and measuring distances between sights in anticipation of upcoming vacations, my evening in Cabo reminded me that spontaneity is a virtue worth having. Sometimes the unplanned moments make for the best adventures.

Sunrise, Sunset

I keep a lot of lists. Like, a ton of them. I have New Year's Resolutions that I make a good effort to keep, I make obsessive daily to-do lists, I keep an eye on the larger week-long and month-long goals, and just for fun, I often break my larger lists into smaller, more attainable lists that are project and/or task specific. But then there's my other list, the one that I go weeks, even months without ever thinking about or making progress on - it's cliché to say and almost passé to have, but I have a bucket list. Or rather, a Things To Do Before I Die list. I'm currently on Version #4 of this list - I made the first version in the basement of my childhood home when I was 13 after reading an entry by John Goddard in a Chicken Soup for the Soul book (don't judge - it was the 90's), and I pretty much copied his list but changed the nouns to suit my teenage taste.

Over the years I allowed myself to delete, add, and adapt some of the entries, and my current version has 101 items. By design, some of the goals are achievable with effort ("learn to juggle"), some I just need to get around to doing ("send a message in a bottle"), and others I know I may never accomplish but will nevertheless enjoy trying ("write an article for National Geographic"). Often times, I seek out experiences or actions that will allow me to cross something off this list - #12 is "see the Parthenon" and while I certainly didn't structure my entire honeymoon around my bucket list, it's not entirely accidental that one of our stops on our cruise will be to Athens. But there are other instances where I realize I accomplished something only after the fact, like the time the photographer got sick and I was the one to take all the publicity photos that got published in the New York Times ("#41 - have a photograph printed somewhere").

Serendipity graced me with her presence last week when I unknowingly checked off #96 - "see the sunrise and the sunset from the same spot on the same day". I was working an event in Cabo, Mexico that was in the middle of the gorgeous Baja dessert, but since I was on the clock, it was never a guarantee that I'd be able to catch even a glimpse of the sunset. As luck would have it though, the schedule was in my favor - my first major task of the evening wrapped up well before the sun started to set, and I was able to spend golden hour at dinner. After eating, it was time to check in back at the production tent (which coincidentally provided a pretty great view of the sunset that was starting to bloom), where I learned that my next task would be to deal with a dozen mini digital film projectors (long story). There's not much you can do with a projector while it's still light out, so I was able to soak in the entirety of the stunning sunset. I smiled, I snapped a couple of photos, and then I made for those projectors like it was my job (because it actually was).

By the end of the evening, I was feeling pretty good. The projectors had behaved exactly as I needed them to, and my boss let me have a celebratory cocktail during the last half hour of the event. But before I got too comfortable, I was reminded of our call time the next morning - we needed to be back on the property at 6am. Which wouldn't have been so terrible, except that it was nearing 1am by the time we were ready to go back to our hotel that was 20 minutes away from the event space.

A quick, three-hour nap later, we were back in the van and driving through the pitch-blackness of Mexican dessert roads. The good people at the entrance gate let our bleary-eyed selves in, and I found myself back at that stupid production tent (please note: I don't hate the production tent. I love the production tent. I was just reaaallllyyy tired). But then I noticed that things were changing. Specifically, it was getting lighter out - which I eventually realized is what happens WHEN THE SUN RISES!!! You have to understand something: I don't see a lot of sunrises in my day-to-day. I work in theater and production, and especially in the wintertime, I don't even leave for work until it's already dark out. But there I was, standing in the exact same spot I was in just 12 hours beforehand, watching the sun rise over the mountains. So I snapped a few more pictures, thanked the sun gods and goddesses, and got straight to work on packing up the mini projectors because the faster I finished strike the faster I could go back to bed.

Please note: I realize that my original entry in my List of Things to do Before I Die said "photograph the sunrise and the sunset from the same place on the same day" and that technically, my sunrise and sunset were from two different days. But whatever. I saw consecutive sun movements and since I'm the only one who actually cares about my list, I'm calling it a goal accomplished.   :)

Playa del Carmen on film

Sometime in mid-April and fed up with the never-ending winter that encased all of New York City for months on end, J and I decided to (temporarily) rectify the problem. We cashed in a ton of points and spent the week at the über-luxurious Paradisius Playa del Carmen La Perla, where we pretty much did nothing but lay in a thatched-roof Bali bed for hour on end, punctuated only by a dip in the pool or a plate of nachos. 

One afternoon, however, we decided to get off our butts and head in to town. Since we were told it was a 30 minute walk and it was approximately 115 degrees out, we had the hotel call a taxi - a wise choice considering the heat and the possibly not-so-safe trek we would have had to make along sparse Mexican roads, but also a not-worth-it choice because the round-trip in a cab came to about $30 for what amounted to two 10-minute drives. But whatever, when in Rome, right?

The town was dusty and touristy. Vendors hawked every tchotchke imaginable, and though brightly colored "authentic" Mexican goods lined 5th Avenue (the main street), the chain restaurants, jewelry stores, and two shopping malls made clear that it was quite obviously a cruise ship port city. Nevertheless, we walked from one end to the other and back again (about 2 miles round trip), stocked up on the requisite magnet and keychain, and enjoyed the carless and colorful street.

I also took a ton of pictures. I'd intentionally left my DSLR at home for this trip (which turned out to be the right choice), but I did bring my Diana Mini, my new(ish) 35mm plastic-body toy camera. There weren't a ton of opportunities to use it while wandering around the resort, but downtown Playa del Carmen proved to be the perfect place to take it out for a walk.

This was my third roll of film with this camera (see the first one here) and easily my favorite. The pictures have a rich and creamy quality to them, and though I had some resolution issues scanning them into my computer, in person they are quite vivid and noiseless. There's also that magic of snapping a photo and having no idea if it'll come out or not. I made the bold choice to not use my iPhone once while walking around the town - so if something had gone wrong with the loading or the processing, I'd have no pictures from that day. Granted, nothing too monumental took place that day - we ambled around a tourist trap that looked like every other Caribbean town I'd ever been to. But still, I took a chance. I obviously will not be retiring either my iPhone or my DSLR, but I'll have a bit more confidence from now on to maybe leave those other cameras back in my bag in the spirit of the photographic unknown.

These photos were shot on a Lomography Diana Mini Camera with Photo Porst Chrome X (100) film. The negatives were processed at one location (let's call it Wrong-Aid) and developed at the Lomography Lab when I realized that the first place couldn't deal with the alternative square sizing of the pictures.

Palm trees and Tulum ruins

On our third day of vacation, we had to wake up early - like 6:30am early. I had booked us a day trip that began with a ruins tour of the pre-Columbian Maya walled city of Tulum, and while it sounded like a great idea when I made the initial plans, having to set an alarm halfway through our do-nothing-but-be-lazy beach vacation made us a little more than slightly grumpy.

They assured us of a reason for the madness - by getting to the ruins that early, we'd miss the onslaught of tourist busses shlepping in people from the cruise ships that docked in any one of the three nearby ports. So, ok fine. The early bird gets the old stone temples. Or something like that.

With coffee in hand and some pastries shoved into our bag (thank you, room service) we headed down to the reception desk where, for the second time that week, we were quickly whisked away by a man in a white van (the first being our transportation from the airport). The email I'd received from the touring company had said someone "with limited English skills" would pick us up and drive us to the meeting point; I marveled at how trusting one must be when in foreign surroundings.

Along the way we picked up the other members of that day's group - a couple from Huston on a "last vacation before the baby" trip, and Canadian sisters on their second and fifth time in the area - but this time without their husbands. We shared a grumble about having to get up so early, but we were all really excited to leave our resorts and see some ruins.

After about 45 minutes of driving on an unremarkable stretch of road that seemed to house nothing more than massively walled resorts and even larger ads for the dubiously spelled Xcaret/Xel-Ha/Xplorr theme parks that seemed to dominate the area, we arrived at a dusty tourist center containing seven stands selling sombreros and serape blankets, a Subway, and a Starbucks. #'merica.

Out of the van and into the operator's office, we were given bottles of water, passes to Tulum, and instructions for the day. To the left of the Subway there will be a tram waiting to take us to the park's entrance. We'd have one hour total at Tulum before reconvening back at the office for the second half of the tour (snorkeling for me, J, and the Texans, zip lining for the sisters), and did we want to purchase a guided tour for an additional $50? No, thanks, we'll DIY this portion of the trip.

With guidebook in hand, I attempted to narrate our little journey - the Maya were at their height between 13th and 15th centuries! These walls protected the Maya from sea invaders! Look at these stones - can you imagine building this temple without any help from modern machinery?? - but people were more interested in the iguanas that darted across our paths.

We followed a trail that led us to the ocean - and more importantly, the ocean's breezes. It was barely 9am and it was already sweltering, and the scant lines of shade provided by the occasional palm tree provided little refuge. But the water was shimmering, the trees were swaying, and we could see all the way down the rocky coastline. With a quick jaunt around Pompeii, Italy being my only real prior exposure to ruins and ancient cultures (and I do mean quick; we were 20 years old, hadn't thought to check the park's closing time, and had to literally run from site to site in order to see it all in about 90 minutes) I wasn't expecting such "traditional" paradise. But this was gorgeous! No wonder the Mayans settled here. I was about to set up camp myself.

The path eventually led us away from the water and down Tulum's "Main Street." Sadly, we weren't allowed to go in to any of the buildings, but the signage and historical markers were ample and informative. We passed temples, seats of power, and watch towers, and soon ended up back at the entrance. Though we still had about 15 minutes left of our allotted "one hour of free time to tour the ruins as you wish," it was really, really hot, and we'd long ago finished our water bottles. Collectively, we decided to head back to the office. As we took one last look at the palm trees and said goodbye to the iguanas, we had to pause before going back through the small entrance arch - hoards of tourists were lining up behind their umbrella-carrying guides. Not ten minutes prior we had the place practically to ourselves, now there were at least 25 giant tour busses in the parking lot. Maybe I will become a morning person after all.

We spent the day touring the ruins of Tulum and snorkeling Mexico's cenotes with Edventure Tours - this post is not sponsored, nor did I receive any compensation for the tour - I just really enjoyed my time and highly recommend this outfitter if you ever find yourself in the Mayan Riviera!