I flew in to San Jose del Cabo from Roseville, California, yesterday via Delta. Flying time is less than three hours.

The flight cost $375 and was relatively painless as far as post modern air travel goes.

Sure, you’re confined to a too-small seat in an aluminum tube filled with crying bambinos, coughing strangers and a constant dull roaring.

Actually the baby only woke up once and the coughing foreigner was me.

And since the leg from LAX to SJD was not full I was able to grab a window seat.

Took bad cell phone pics of the many beaches, coves, mountains and islands of the Sea of Cortez (aka Gulf of California) since my seat was on the plane’s port side.


I want to visit up there after a few days here in Los Cabos, unmatched party pueblos.

Everyone here drinks beer, starting at the airport!

Sadly, high blood pressure stops this old man from that brand of fun, though I had a beer with my fish tacos last night and it was bueno.

I’m planning to travel north up the east side of the pennensula. I think the smaller, less tourist ridden towns like Loreto and Mulage will fit me better.

Travel by air requires the patience of Job, following the herd, shuffling along laden like a beast of burden, trying not to moo.

The Customs zigzag maze was the biggest I’ve ever seen, probably twenty righthand turns.

But the visa and passport stamping went quickly, releasing the cattle to the swarming crowd of taxi, shuttle and, for all I know, Uber and Lyft drivers.

The shuttle to El Centro cost  $14 and was quick once the shuttle started.

Naturally, loading the van took forever and a day since time in Mexico is more relaxed and laid back than time elsewhere.

Get used to it. I have a month here so am in no hurry. Hurry is foreign to Mexico.

The people of Mexico are its treasure. Grave, dignified and intelligent, they always have a smile and a word, even for foolish foreign visitors mangling their beautiful romance language.

If there were a hell, Donald Trump would be roasting in it for denigrating Mexico and its people. He is the rapist and bad hombre.

The hotel proprietor, Cynthia, saved my panceta (bacon) this morning when I dropped and lost my cell phone in Mijares plaza.

She called my number, then escorted me to retrieve it from an incredibly beautiful woman police officer to whom it was given when found. Muchas gracias!

Though shopping isn’t why I came, bargains are here in silver, leather, ceramics and textiles. If, unlike me, you have room in your rucksack.

I leave for Cabo San Lucas Wednesday, the more active party town just east. I suspect I’ll stay only a few days before pushing north. I’m looking for more solitude and quiet since my party hardy days have ended.

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