Stories from Cabo
On one of our forays down the beach, we found this little crab. If you've ever spent any time in popular tourist areas of Mexico, you know how numerous and,er, determined the local vendors can be. One guy told me he made everything in his silver shop. I said, "I believe you!" And he laughed. Another vendor told us his wife made all the clothes in their booth, despite the fact that they were the same clothes you could find all over the Baja peninsula. In the spirit of the day, we found this crab and attempted to barter him away for a water taxi ride out to see el Arco. We were unsuccessful, but it did throw everyone off. They'd approach us to offer a super deal (for you amigo, almost free!), and then back off when they saw the crab. Don't worry, PETA members, we returned him to the sea when we were done using him to surprise unsuspecting vendors, and he(or she!) appeared to suffer no harm from his adventures.
Another story about vendors highlights both my pregnancy hormones, and the deeply caring side of the man I married.
We were returning to our car in Cabo San Lucas to head back to our resort, and saw a Mexican woman sitting on a set of stairs with a toddler boy sound asleep in her lap. She also had two little girls sitting next to her, one leaning heavily on her mother's shoulder, the other fiddling with some stones on the ground. As we passed, I realized the mother was selling the little toys we'd see so many other vendors offering in Cabo. We didn't stop, but I felt such overwhelming sadness at the image. It's impossible to know if this was true, but what if, I thought. What if she tries to feed her kids only on what she sells? There are so many places in Mexico that are dirt poor, literally, with people living in homes made of metal siding and found scraps. I suppose with my two babies at home, I identified so much with her as a mother, though I can barely imagine the horror of not being able to afford food for your children. And trying to sell trinkets to tourists with three young children hanging on you, that is no picnic, no matter what kind of house you call home. I started to cry as I told Grant how sad I was.
"Let's go back," he said immediately, but he saw that I was tired and falling apart, that the walk back was beyond me at that point. "I'll go," he said, and off he went. Just like that. So then I was crying because I couldn't believe how amazing he is. He overpaid the mother, as I knew somehow that he would. This is the man I married, how he cares for me. He has had to balance so many roles over the past few years, and sometimes that has left me to feel rather alone, but he is always there for me when I really need him, even when it wouldn't seem that important to the outside world. All these years and trials and homes and kids (also included under "trials") and this is what we still have together. My cup runneth over.
Another story about vendors highlights both my pregnancy hormones, and the deeply caring side of the man I married.
We were returning to our car in Cabo San Lucas to head back to our resort, and saw a Mexican woman sitting on a set of stairs with a toddler boy sound asleep in her lap. She also had two little girls sitting next to her, one leaning heavily on her mother's shoulder, the other fiddling with some stones on the ground. As we passed, I realized the mother was selling the little toys we'd see so many other vendors offering in Cabo. We didn't stop, but I felt such overwhelming sadness at the image. It's impossible to know if this was true, but what if, I thought. What if she tries to feed her kids only on what she sells? There are so many places in Mexico that are dirt poor, literally, with people living in homes made of metal siding and found scraps. I suppose with my two babies at home, I identified so much with her as a mother, though I can barely imagine the horror of not being able to afford food for your children. And trying to sell trinkets to tourists with three young children hanging on you, that is no picnic, no matter what kind of house you call home. I started to cry as I told Grant how sad I was.
"Let's go back," he said immediately, but he saw that I was tired and falling apart, that the walk back was beyond me at that point. "I'll go," he said, and off he went. Just like that. So then I was crying because I couldn't believe how amazing he is. He overpaid the mother, as I knew somehow that he would. This is the man I married, how he cares for me. He has had to balance so many roles over the past few years, and sometimes that has left me to feel rather alone, but he is always there for me when I really need him, even when it wouldn't seem that important to the outside world. All these years and trials and homes and kids (also included under "trials") and this is what we still have together. My cup runneth over.
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| Our heads wobble! |
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| The white turtle will become an ornament for our Christmas tree, and a lovely reminder. |
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