30 November 2009
After overindulging in the traditionally excessive American Thanksgiving feast, we're off for Old Mexico, South of the Border and whatnot. In-laws have a timeshare and have generously offered to share it with us for the long weekend, and so the Mayan Palace beckons.
Most of Green Valley, where we are, is an age-restricted gated community in the Sonoran desert, not far from the border. However, lots of the border towns are currently pretty well shut down because of a spate of pesky drug gang warfare that's claimed 4000 people this year alone. Fortunately, we're going to the non-death-inducing bit, at the border town of Sonoyta. It's a 3 hour drive through the classic American desert you see in movies, full of dramatic cacti and other prickly things. Stopped to pee on the side of the road (I did, at least--have lost all inhibitions in the course of the last seven months) and then at a Native American casino/hot dog stand on the Tohono O'odham reservation and staffed by very large people who look disappointingly unlike Jacob Black. Through the little towns of Sells and Why. I feel like there's a joke there that's just not coming to me. 
This is the bit of Mexico that faces the Baja peninsula, so it's fairly sheltered. The sea is beautiful, though, crashing waves and white sand. The Mayan resort is lush and posh and has good food, and what else do you need on your vacation from your vacation? They shape the sand in the ashtrays to look like temples, they make the towels into a wide variety of animal shapes. I didn't even know I was missing these things in my life. I am now fulfilled.
Into the little town of Puerto Penasco, which was a fishing village and now sells tourist tat of the brightly coloured sort, silver jewelry and luchadore's masks and even a poncho emblazoned with the Cleveland Browns logo. It's like they knew we were coming! Also home to shrimp boats and a classic statue immortalizing the eternal battle between man and prawn.
Sandy and I spent yesterday in the spa getting even more gorgeous, my toes now sport Peru-B-Ruby (OPI is endlessly entertaining to me, all out of proportion to the wit employed in naming the colours) and the boys played two rounds of golf on the Nicklaus course. David has bought me the world's most beautifully dressed figurine (made for the Day of the Dead in early November) as an early birthday gift. Anyone who has a decent plan for shipping a pink-ballgown-clad skeleton made from papier-mache and sized at approximately 18 x 18 inches to London is welcome to share it. We've named her Conchita. These also come in the shape of Michael Jackson, obviously. 
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