Cabo San Lucas: Where The Mountains Mingle With The Sea
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| (Photo S. James) |
The moment I arrive at Riu Sante Fe, the sprawling, 902-room pueblo-style resort in Cabo San Lucas (www.riu.com), I'm greeted with an icy welcome: A cold glass of rum punch.
Ahh, let the all-inclusivity begin.
After I check in, I take a long, leisurely stroll to my room. As I pass through the lobby, I can still feel the warm, velvety breeze that lingered outside. That's when I realize: I am outside...kind of. The lobby, which is made up of twenty mini-living rooms that look like something straight out of a Crate and Barrel catalog, has no walls. But some how, it still captures the elegance and coziness you’d find in the family room of any luxurious estate.
The lobby leads to a huge courtyard surrounded by restaurants, gift shops, three stand alone bars, a 24-hour sports bar and a covered outdoor eating area.
A few yards down and I'm finally near the guest rooms. But my attention is immediately drawn to the impeccable landscaping.
The grass is trimmed to perfection; there isn’t a single blade out of place. The palm trees are tall, green and plentiful. The cacti are short, stout and mingle with an assortment of pink flowers.
When I get to Block Two (where I'll be staying) I look for an elevator.
There isn't one.
I drag my bag up two flights of stairs but before I can get upset, the view and draft from a windowless cutout in the stairwell catches my attention and makes everything all better.
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| (Photo S. James |
My digs are decent but missing a few key essentials.
There's a standard tube television (I was hoping for a flat screen); the view from my balcony is dull (there's a huge palm tree blocking the horizon); there is no internet connection available in the room (I have to use my computer in the courtyard or pay to use the internet in the computer room inside the sports bar). But what my room lacks in panorama and electronic accommodations, it makes up for in size.
The California king-size bed is huge and inviting and the oversized balcony has enough room for a small gathering of friends. The bathroom boasts double vanity sinks and a mirror trimmed in wood that spans from wall-to-wall. There’s also a well stocked mini-bar and refrigerator to use at my disposal.
With my room inspection complete, I'm ready to have a little fun. I change into my swimming trunks and head out to the pool bar. There's only one problem: Which one? The Riu Sante Fe has three swim-up bars (Tequila, La Iguana and Mezcal). I decide to hit up La Iguana since it's close to my room.
I made the right choice. I hear Ludacris blasting from the poolside speakers and see folks dancing and frolicking in the water, downing shots at the bar. La Iguana is the place to be!
As I sip on a sweet mohito, I notice a lot of people drinking from huge thermos bottles. Clearly, I'm the new kid on the block. Everybody who's anybody is taking full advantage of the all-inclusive perks.
Kevin from Minnesota joins me at the bar. While the bartender replenishes his thermos with a Miami Vice, he gives me the lowdown on the resort: where to eat; what bars to frequent; what pools to avoid; where to party downtown. Four drinks and a shot with Kevin and his crew later, I stumble back to my room to change and grab some dinner.
I go to La Baja California, an upscale international, buffet where they clap for guests as they enter the restaurant. It's also the largest eatery on the resort. They serve everything. Seriously, you name it, they've got.
I decide to feast on jumbo shrimp seared in a light garlic sauce, nachos and guacamole. Delicious. After dinner, I head back to my room to "rest my eyes” and end up crashing for the night.
The next day, I wake up a bit hung-over from the night before, so, I decide to take it easy on the alcohol and visit the pool near the beach on the far end of the resort. This pool is different from the one from yesterday. It's packed. The crowd is a bit more aggressive (folks are clamoring for the best spot in the sun) and there are kids everywhere.
Ugh!
But the view of the eroded rocks is hypnotizing – and is reason enough for me to pull up a sun chair and stay a while.
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| (Photo S. James) |
The fat, little boy in me wants chicken fingers and French fries, but I decide to be a grown up and feast on curry chicken drumsticks, vegetable chop suey, homemade fruit punch and a vanilla ice cream cone for dessert.
After lunch, I head down to the beach, where I learn the art of negotiation when I see an understated sombrero I must have.
Me: How much for the sombrero?
Peddler: 450 pesos.
Me: What if I buy two?
Peddler: Sombrero 450 pesos a piece!
Me: Okay. [Walks away]
Peddler: Amigo! Amigo! How much you pay?
Me: Two sombreros for $35. No pesos. Dollars.
Peddler: [Long pause] Okay, amigo.
On the walk back from my steal, I see my sun chair is still empty. I stop, look back at the view and fall under its spell once again. Before I know it, I'm back on the chair, with the brim of my new sombrero dipped over my face, dozing off. And just like that, I fall victim to a lazy day at the beach.
Aside from Torote, there are three other reservation-only restaurants on the resort: Carusso (Italian), Zashila (Asian) and La Mision (Mexican). I was able to snag a reservation at Carusso - everything else was booked.
After I wake up from my day of nothingness, I shower and get dressed up for an elegant sit-down dinner at Carusso.
What a let down.
There's nothing special about the place. The entire time I'm there, I try to figure out what's so Italian about the menu (besides the minestrone soup). I give up and order the salmon fillet on a bed of spinach with pistachio mousseline.
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| (Photo S. James) |
I never did get the spinach. Instead, they gave me a side of veggies and chopped potatoes that tasted like they were drained from the broth of the minestrone soup I had as an appetizer. An appetizer I had to get up and get myself because with the exception of the main course, every other aspect of the meal is self-serve/buffet style. Really? I had to make a reservation for this? The saving grace: the tasty homemade coconut ice cream.
As I walk off my lackluster meal, I enjoy the cool, crisp breeze of the night air that hovers over the resort. I notice the locals have flooded the courtyard, hawking everything from Mexican blankets and costume jewelry to fake Coach bags and hand-drawn pictures of 2-Pac and Bob Marley. For a minute, I think I’m on 125th street in Harlem.
I pass on the locals' offerings and decide to peek into Pacha, the resort's nightclub. In less than five minutes, I see enough off-key dancing and drunken buffoonery to last me an entire lifetime. I leave there to go to La Monumental, one of the three bars in the courtyard for a Bacardi and Coke nightcap.
In the morning, I wake up early (no hang-over this time) and enjoy a breakfast of champions: Hot cakes with oats drenched in warm maple syrup, scrambled eggs with red and green peppers, with a side of fresh pineapple and a tall glass of orange juice.
Although I'm not scheduled to fly out until the tomorrow, I decide to take to the skies a day early and go parasailing (scubacaribe.com).
I strap on my life vest and hop on the boat. In no time, I'm sailing 500-feet above the Pacific Ocean.
As I hold on tight to the parachute straps and rest as comfortably as I can in the harness, I bask in the serenity of the tropical breeze, smile as the wind blows off the sand from in-between my toes, take mental notes of the picture-perfect view of the Baja California coastline and hope for a humpback whale sighting.
No luck. Whale watching season is over.
On the water taxi ride back to shore, the man helming the speed boat tries to scare me by making vigorous dips and hard turns in the water. I yawn and tell him I've had scarier cab rides in midtown Manhattan.
Back on land, I grab a taxi and head to the mall to do some shopping. I get dropped off at Puerto Paraiso, the main shopping mall in Cabo. I veer away from the usual fare - Lacoste, Kenneth Cole, Calvin Klein - and purchase souvenirs at Fiesta Mexicana, rack up on lavender-scented incense at a booth called Aroma Mexicana and marvel at the intricate beaded sculptures by Indian tribes from the states of Jalisco and Nayarit.
I take the escalator to the top floor of the mall and discover a sun-drenched rooftop terrace overlooking a view of the water, a prime location to snap some great photos.
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| (Photo S James) |
Domingo narrates my tour with cool facts about the town.
Long before it became a popular tourist destination, Cabo was simply a small fishing village known for receiving and packing fish. Since Cabo is in the middle of the desert (it only rained 8 times in 2009), water conservation is a huge issue here and tightly monitored by the government.
I pegged downtown Cabo to be modern, chic, hip and happening – it’s anything but. It’s small and modest with typical American staples - McDonalds, Dominos, The Hard Rock Cafe - which serve as the only reminders of home.
I see locals at a bus stop boarding the bus, which looks like one of those dusty hand-me-down school buses used to transport handcuffed felons from one jail to another. The streets are pothole-ridden and massive mountains tower over the little city area.
Domingo drives pass Cabo Wabo, the famous restaurant owned by Van Halen member Sammy Hagar. We also go by street vendors selling jewelry and Domingo gives me a stern warning never to buy silver from any of the venders because "they say silver but it's no silver. It turn neck purple and rashy." Duly noted.
We get elite access into a private hotel built into the side of one of the towering mountains. The ride up is such a steep incline, he has to stop the van and we walk up the rest of the way. The views are breathtaking.
After 10-minutes of picture taking and oohing and ahhing at the sights, he drops me off at the San Lucus Marina and I set sail on a two-hour sunset dinner cruise (www.caboescapetours.com).
I expected a pleasant sit-down dinner with soft music playing in the background while I soaked in all the incredible views of the retiring sun.
Not!
This was a party boat, a booze-cruise if you will. And that was alright with me.
There's an open bar (I gulp down several margaritas); an all you can eat buffet (the yam beans and chicken fajitas were mouth-watering and trumped half the food I ate at the resort); a 70-year-old woman who drops it like it’s hot on the make-shift dance floor every time the DJ plays "Single Ladies" and two solid hours of circling around Lover's Beach and the famous El Arco de Cabo San Lucas (Land's End Arch).
Just when I thought I'd seen it all - Bam! The money shot.
The sun bids farewell and everyone runs to the edge of the boat with their cameras to capture the moment.
By nightfall, we're back at the marina and I’m exhausted from the rousing boat ride. I see Domingo waiting for me on the dock, ready to take me back to the resort.
There, I force myself to stay awake long enough to squeeze in one last rum punch and a heaping bowl of coconut ice cream before bed.
The next morning, during the 40-minute drive to the airport from the resort, as I rub my tummy and try to calculate how long I'll have to run on the treadmill to get rid of the countless calories I've consumed over the past four days, I catch wind of a beautiful love affair.
I see the sun kiss the tips of craggy mountain tops; the dry, sandy shores covet the moisture of the calm blue sea and the crystal-clear blue sky ogle all that happens beneath it.
Just when I decide I want in on the action, the van screeches to a sudden stop!
I look out the front window to see a herd of goats casually crossing the road without a care in the world.
The driver scowls, sits and waits.
I smile and chuckle.
Mother Nature heard my request and gave me a wink.
Cabo belongs to her but it’ll always be mine to discover.
All Photographs by Shydel James
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