Here, Eat This! The Adventures of Kiki Maraschino

We had most of Monday to just hang out, see the town, and get to know each other. Carol and I took a taxi into town for breakfast. First I tried Mama’s Royale Café, which was supposed to have the breakfast in town. The taxi driver waved at the locked gate; they were closed. So I tried asking for another place, Felix’s and the taxi driver just waved at the same place. I looked at the signs. Mama and Felix had a very close relationship. Undaunted, I tried door #3 – Pancho’s, and thank goodness they were open. Pancho’s was on my “margarita list” not my “huevos list” and it was way too early for margaritas.

In spite of the super “Mexican fiesta” theme party decor, and the fact that they are known for their tequila, Pancho’s made the best chilaquiles I have ever eaten, bar none. Oh my God, I just want to climb up to the computer and lick this picture.

We wandered through the town, and I bought vanilla. Ever since I was a little girl, we never left TJ without a giant bottle of Mexican vanilla. We looked in trinket shops, and I fell back into bartering so easily it surprised me.

We wandered around the touristy harbor, and I paid a guy a few bucks to take the stupidest sucker photo ever, but I have come to love this picture of the iguana in a sombrero so much I put it on my new business cards. It may be the greatest picture I have ever taken. Of course, just as I’m being a total dork photographing an iguana stereotype we run into Rachel and Chris – small town. Chris and I toyed with the idea of buying tiny sombreros for the sea turtles to disguise them from predators.

Carol and I went to stare at the Dolphin Adventure and try to decide if we wanted to swim with dolphins or not. It looked kind of sad and really silly, plus you can’t take pictures. You have to buy their pictures. It was also a 3 hour ordeal. I knew I wasn’t allowed to take pictures, but as we were walking down the stairs after deciding against getting attacked by dolphins, I noticed the way the water flowed off of the tank and took a picture of that.

I was technically outside of the aquarium area. I was technically not photographing any aquatic mammals. So I wasn’t really breaking any rules. But the hand of fate disagreed and slapped me down. I totally fell down the stairs. I hate falling down the stairs. What I hate even worse is the aftermath of falling down the stairs, when people rush over and try to coddle me. I don’t care if I break my leg clean off, I refuse to show any pain and just want to pretend I’m fine and make the people go away. That macho attitude once made me walk for 2 hours on torn ligaments in New Orleans until my ankle was the size of a softball.

This injury was a little less severe

The pool had a swim-up bar, so we met our fellow travelers there for lunch and disproved the 1-hour swimming rule. I had a well-seasoned pounded steak sandwich. I don’t know the cut, but was much more tender than carne asada. Resort bars aren’t usually known for their food, but this place was fantastic – even their french fries were killer. It was hot as hell outside, and it was such a luxury to dine while up to our chests in cool water.

The palapa was the main feature of the swimming area

from inside it looked like a giant straw hat

Around 4 o’clock, we were picked up in vans for a long night at the ranch. It was beautiful.

There was a guest house next to an arroyo where Rene said they do a lot of bird-watching.

The Arroyo was kind of scary deep. Of course Lisa fearlessly sat right on the edge.

The main building was just steps away from the beach.

And then the fun really began…

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The flight into Cabo was barely 2 hours, and pretty cheap. In spite of its proximity, visions of drunken frat boys on Spring Break benders have always kept me away. An invitation from ASUPMATOMA, a group that rescues baby sea turtles, gave me faith that more is happening in Baja than guys in sombreros pouring tequila in your mouth and spinning you around.

Upon arriving at the airport, I had some trouble finding my ride. I finally found Pepe, and together we hunted down Carol, a fellow journalist. Carol is easygoing and quick to laugh. But she is still a New Yorker; so there is a sense that when it comes down to it, she can handle whatever comes her way. I took a liking to her immediately.

Pepe, our driver

On the ride down, I asked Pepe if he wouldn’t mind stopping at a taqueria. I was famished. It was definitely “authentic”. The horchata was cold, and the fish tacos, made from pargo, a red snapper, were delicious. They only use one tortilla, not the double-tortilla common to Los Angeles taquerias.

Total Suicide Food

It was about a 20-minute drive from the airport, barring any emergency taco stops

Waiting for us at the hotel was Rachel, our PR contact. She definitely kept everything running smoothly. The pool was gorgeous ! Our rooms were gorgeous ! Definitely stay at La Finisterra if you are heading to Cabo.

The view from my balcony

There were hawks flying around at eye level

Oh, they do have the world’s biggest moths in Baja. Unless this was a baby hawk or another hallucination. (I imagine Hunter S Thompson attacking it with a tennis racket) This here’s bat country!

On our first evening out, our host, Rene, invited us out for dinner. He had an air of old world courtliness about him. He holds himself proudly, like a matador. He was accompanied by Elizabeth, the group’s Biologist, who was monolingual, and unfortunately I speak very little Spanish – very badly. I speak just enough to order food, find the bathroom, and start a fight. Definitely not enough to discuss anything scientific. But Elizabeth was good-natured and seemed to find us amusing.

Everyone was discussing wine. I think no one wanted to be the first one to drink alcohol – or up the host’s bill. I finally broke down and admitted I could use a beer. Rene perked up and asked if we’d like to try beer a different way, so a few more people joined in.

They squeezed 2 or 3 limes in a glass, added a little salt, a little sparkling water, and then a Bohemia. It was a little like a shandy, or a beer mojito.

Carol and I soon discovered we made a good team, because I am a compulsive talker, and she is a compulsive note-taker. It is hard to do both and eat a meal at the same time.

I was seated across from Lisa, who is that person you dream about becoming when you grow up. Years of working with National Geographic have given her James Bond-like experiences few of us will ever experience. Her opening sentence might be, “When you are in zero gravity…” or “Walking along the bottom of the sea…” But she is as matter-of-fact about it as you or I would be recounting the plot of a movie we just saw. There is no braggadoccio, only a vague sense of wonder.

The restaurant, Romeo and Juliet, was mid-scale Italian. The atmosphere was warm and slightly romantic, but the menu was not too pricy. There were no Mexican-Italian “fusion” dishes which would have fascinated me – just straight-up Italian. The Caesar salad was intense but delicious. It was invented in Baja, after all.

My gnocchi was heavenly

I tried a bite of “fileto pesce a la mugnaia” fish in a white wine and lemon caper butter sauce with olives, which was delicious.

Chris, who is Rachel’s husband, offered me a bite of his lasagne and I think he scored. That was the best damned lasagne. It was all meat, no ricotta or white sauce, and handmade pasta. It might even be better than mine, and I make a mean lasagne.

During dinner, the bulk of the conversation involved turtles, naturally. Rene explained that when the turtles lay their eggs they go into a trance and don’t even know you are there. He said in general the turtles were tranquilo and he almost wished they were a little more aggressive.

In the first of many inappropriate and unusual outbursts, I exclaimed, “We could train them!”
Chris said, “We could fit them with laser beams!” and I knew I had a partner in my insanity.
I said, “We could attach jet packs so they could fly, and with the lasers, hell, they’d be like Gamera!

After awhile conversation led to the enormous size of some of the turtles. The elusive leatherback can grow to the size of a VW bug. I blurted, “Can I ride one? Oh my God! I want to ride one! That is totally going on my bucket list.”
Chris laughed at me, “Bucket list!”

We received a lesson in the correct pronunciation of ASUPMATOMA. I confessed that I kept thinking of it as “Asuptomania”. Chris said he just calls it “Hakuna Matata”.

The dessert tray was too tempting to pass up, but nobody wanted to be responsible for actually ordering dessert. So I ordered a Tres Leches and a bunch of forks, and Lisa followed up with an order of chocolate flan for the table. Tres Leches is one of those dishes with a short window. If it doesn’t sit long enough the cake isn’t saturated – too long, and it gets mushy very quickly. This restaurant had it just right, and the cake was pure heaven. It was finished with a little swirl of mango and another of raspberry coulis.

Later, when a small group of us were discussing the “Dolphin Adventure” in Cabo, and the morality of swimming with captive dolphins, someone said, “I heard they don’t like it. I heard they (pause) bite you.”
Chris said, “They do worse than that.”
I knew what everyone was dancing around, so in spite of being completely sober I said, “I heard they try to “force themselves” on you.”
Chris said, “Umm, yeah. That.”
I said, “That’s OK. Being assaulted by a dolphin is also on my bucket list.”

Is this the sign for the bathroom?

I was secretly relieved that there were a few people with my terrible sense of humor. But in spite of the randy banter, it was a pleasant and relaxed evening, and we couldn’t have hoped for nicer hosts or better ambiance. Back at the hotel I explored a little bit.

I sat up on the hill overlooking the city drinking a margarita on the rocks.

a stray cat jumped into my lap. I sat there petting it, looking at the city lights and felt more content than I had in a very long time. Then something spooked the cat and it ran off, knocking over my margarita.

I grabbed my swimsuit and headed for the beautiful pool.

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Some of the press releases I receive are very useful, and some are kind of random. I received an announcement at some point that the baby sea turtles were starting to hatch in Baja. Very adorable, but Baja’s not my beat, so I let it go.

A month ago I received another baby sea turtle email announcing that there were still vacancies for the press junket. I read it again. Yes, this definitely looked like an invitation. My blog may be LA-centric, but it also reports on tecchie news and is super-green. Luckily, I had already taken the week off for a workshop. Hmmm, saving baby sea turtles in Cabo vs. staring at hypnotic hotel meeting room carpets? No contest!

But who were these people? Was it all a ruse to kidnap me and sell my kidneys on the black market? I checked them out, and ASUPMATOMA sure looked legit.

The Association for the Protection of the Environment and the Marine Turtle in Southern Baja (ASUPMATOMA) is a non-profit organization dedicated to the protection of the endangered sea turtles of Baja California Sur, Mexico, and the overall environmental sustainability of Los Cabos’ beautiful beaches, lands and surrounding communities.

ASUPMATOMA was founded more than 18 years ago by René Pinal, a prominent real estate investor and conservationist in Cabo San Lucas, along with a team of biologists and local residents to address the pressing environmental issues facing Los Cabos. In particular, the organization is a leading worldwide advocate of the preservation of the endangered sea turtles, which are now at risk of destruction in the Sea of Cortez region due to rapid land development, pollution, and illegal hunting and fishing practices.

For nearly two decades, at Pinal’s Rancho Punta San Cristobal estate, a three-and-a-half-mile stretch of environmentally protected beaches and lands (located along the Pacific Coast of Baja approx. 15 minutes north of Cabo San Lucas), ASUPMATOMA has saved tens of thousands of sea turtles in the wild and hundreds of thousands of baby sea turtle hatchlings along the beaches of Los Cabos. In addition, Pinal’s natural lands protect more than 17 other species in the area, some which are also endangered.

In the 80s I spent time in Baja with Linda and D Boone, who LOVED sea turtle tacos. Luckily, I had not yet developed an adventurous palate, so I didn’t have to deal with any guilt on this trip. OK, I ate Turtle Soup once at Commander’s Palace. But who knows what kind of turtle it was? Definitely not one as adorable as these! (I am reminded of the little girls on “Kid Nation” who would only allow the “ugly chickens” to be sacrificed for soup).

The consumption of sea turtle meat and eggs has been illegal in Mexico for over 20 years now, but poachers still supply a thriving black market. One nest can yield 200-dollars worth of eggs, a lot of money in an impoverished country. To address this issue, ASUPMATOMA has a special program for children called, “Papa, no come las tortugas!”
Daddy, Don’t Eat the Sea Turtles!

Daddy, Don’t Eat the Sea Turtles is an environmental program created to educate and raise public awareness about the endangered sea turtles and environment, and in particular, encourage the citizens of Los Cabos, and throughout Mexico, to stop the consumption of eggs and meat of sea turtles which is still considered a delicacy.

OK, so no eating sea turtles. But I hear they do make ant egg tacos in that part of the country. Cabo, here I come!

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