Immersion (Notes from Cabo San Lucas, MX Oct. 2017)

I spent four full mornings and a bit of the afternoons in the sun while I was in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico last week. The mornings by the pools on the ridge of our resort were glorious. I sat on the lounge chair with nothing. No book, no magazine, no music. Just some sun block, my towel, and me. Dan was always already wading in the water looking out at the beach on the horizon. I was basking in the warmth, letting it fill me from head to toe, taking in the colors with my eyes, the blues, oranges, browns, greens, all a shimmer and aglow. After a little while I sat by the edge of the pool, letting my legs dip into the cool water. This, I said to myself, is one of my favorite things. I swished my legs to and fro, feeling the water caress my skin. It's something I've done since forever, like most people I think. Summer days by the pool dangling your legs in cool water, watching the pool reflect and refract the light all around it. My head was warm and empty of thoughts and it felt so nice. Finally I went all the way in. 

One morning I saw people in the pool with their paperback books in hand and one person was reading a kindle! I wasn't ready for that until later, though I stayed on my lounge chair. At some point the the initial shock of the heat and the vastly different atmosphere of palm trees, desert, cacti, bright buildings, brightly colored automobiles, loud noise from the marina, and everything else settles in and it feels natural to begin reading. I finished "Cat People" and "Heroes, Gods, and Monsters" on the plane ride over, and read some of Lang Leav's "The Universe Of Us" while in Mexico.

Midweek my family, Dan, and I went to a more "touristy" restaurant, as opposed to our continuous hole-in-the-wall trips to local taco places in town and the mall - which will tell you a lot about where you are too (in terms of the culture of the people). At this restaurant, where we saw an unbelievable amount of tequila poured down people's throats, the bathroom was lined with tiles that had Frida Kahlo carved and painted on them. Also, the toilet cover paper container featured Frida Kahlo, with a tiny butterfly.

I wonder how many patrons of this restaurant knew who Frida Kahlo was, what her life history consisted of, what her work meant. And I also wonder what the managers of this place were thinking putting her image up like this. I mean, it's more understandable when you are at a Maggiano's and there are pictures of Frank Sinatra, Marilyn Monroe, Sophia Loren, and countless others in black and white... singers, actors, models who had a profession closely tied to Chicago and were patrons of Italian restaurants. This seems more like Frida Kahlo becoming kitsch, and not in the best way. (That being said, I had a fun time. There was a live rock band and good food. Also, maybe Frida Kahlo would have laughed this off.)

One night at around 6 o'clock, Dan and I decided to take a walk down to the beach. We took off our shoes and pressed our feet into the sand, and it took some time for the roughness and then tickle to subside, but then we strolled comfortably down to the great Pacific. The crash of the waves, sending a gentle spray of salt water to my face and lips, the warmly wet sand, and the changing colors of the sunset over the water was almost overwhelming. Otherworldly. This place exists. It still exists. And sometime, it will be gone. 

Watching the waves build was one of the best things. This was a "no swimming" beach, understandably so. I was bold and walked into a wave to see how it felt, and the tide had a strong grip - if I had gone down just a bit further I might have gotten pulled in. Each time a wave came the sound filled me with such happiness. Dan and waited for the strength of the waves to grow a bit stronger, strong enough that the ocean would reach out and touch us. It finally did. The water was just warm enough, white with foam, and the breeze was cool on our tanned arms and backs. 

It makes me sad to know that many beaches are becoming more and more polluted with plastics and other trash. There are some beaches in the world, such as one in the Philippines, that has bottles and other garbage lined all along the shore. Beaches have become less than what they truly are in this 21st century. They become ill, just like all living things, and if not taken care of they may die soon. The experience I had in Mexico along the Pacific Ocean beach is something I'll cherish forever. 

On the flight back home to Chicago from Dallas (we had to fly to Dallas from Cabo San Lucas first), the pilot had mentioned briefly that there was a storm all the way up to Chicago, that it would be that way for for the entire flight, but that it was blue, not red, which meant that we could still fly through it. Once up the in the air, the plane shook terribly, made swoops low and high, making my stomach get that dropping feeling like twenty times. I was almost in tears holding Dan's hand. I thought a crash was imminent. Our window was open and it was pitch black except for the airplane's emergency lights flashing on and off on and off. The pressure was unbelievable, and I could feel the luggage below us moving around. While this was happening, the airline decided to play a video of an extremely happy woman saying thank you for choosing their airline with a big smile on her face, and talking about other wonderful things. This was not helpful at all, and actually made me feel worse. After an hour, we were finally steady. After the pilot said "Sorry about the turbulence, that was not good" he also mentioned a slight wind coming in from somewhere that I think he was just talking about out of nerves, because I didn't really feel anything. I gave him a big thank you on the way out - he saved our lives. The sky above Chicago right before landing was spectacular.

- F