Dario de Baja

Tougher Than We Think

If you care you can leave a comment at the end of this article. I do read every one and answer as many as possible.


A few years ago while driving into town I noticed a big green plant that seemed to be growing, no not growing, thriving between the north and southbound lanes of the highway. Nothing else for several yards in front of or behind this beautiful green plant it stood in the stark dry, sandy area only inches from cars, pickups and trucks as they raced by. I never took the time to stop and really look at this seemingly out of place plant as I would drive by on my way to a fro. Then one day as it matured and took on the look of a more mature plant I realized why it looked so familiar. I made a promise to myself that on the way home I would stop and take a closer look. I pulled into the Llantera (tire shop) across the road and taking my life into my own hands I dashed across the highway to inspect this out of place familiar plant. The closer I got to it the more I was sure that my suspicions were correct. A cotton plant had somehow managed to survive in the most unfriendly of places. But a cotton plant? Here?


Photo by Dario de Baja

I stood there in skeptical disbelief that this cotton plant, the same type cotton plant I had raised as a farmer could possibly be, well, here! It must have come from a wayward lost seed perhaps carried by a bird and dropped here in this highly unlikely spot. In my past life as a farmer my main crop for years and years was cotton. I would fertilize at just the right time, irrigate with just enough water to satisfy its needs but not saturate the ground causing the soil to become over saturated which can cause all sorts of other problems and issues. I would spray with just the right amount and correct herbicides and apply just the right amount of insecticide to keep pests at bay. Nights of good rest were lost wondering how high winds, hail, too much rain, etc. might affect my oh so fragile cotton crop.

Finally freeing myself of that life of non stop crop babysitting, I am here in this non too friendly plant life environment only to find a healthy, vibrant, thriving cotton plant thumbing its nose at all that nature and non stop traffic can dish out. Nary a drop of irrigation water, certainly no fertilizer applications, and as far pests who knows what was attacking it. Car exhaust and being run over a few times seemed to only strengthen this stubborn plant’s resolve to survive. Shaking my head again in disbelief I carefully made my way back to my car to undoubtedly think about this single plant for a long while.

Every time I would drive by my cotton plant I would say hello, tip my hat and wish it well for I did feel that at some level we had much in common. Then one day while driving by saying a quick hello I find a few cotton blooms that are the precursor to soon to come cotton bowls. Stopping to inspect my friendly green giant I felt a certain kinship with it.

Several weeks passed, when one day there they were. Beautiful cotton bowls full of the fluffy white fruit that would soon open completely just waiting for someone to pluck them from its strong limbs. I began wondering what was going to happen to this plant if no one came along to harvest its bounty. Of course optimum harvest day came and went and the still full bowls waited. Eventually, the over mature bowls dried up as nature intended and dropped to the ground looking almost like a small snow storm had occurred. So, I thought to myself this is what happens when nature is left to her own resources and full maturity is allowed to occur without human intervention. This is nature as it was intended to be I suppose.

Then one day I saw a group of workers diligently working to clean up the median between the north and south bound lanes. They were busy picking up debris and some trash that had accumulated over a period of time. I stopped where they were working and asked if they could spare my cotton plant from the sickle. A little surprised by my request they assured me they would work around my green buddy that had worked so hard to survive for so long. Going by a couple of days later I was almost afraid to look to see if they had kept their promise. Sure enough there was an area of perhaps four feet around that was completely undisturbed. This old farmer in me felt so excited that I was successful in saving a life even though it was one that could not speak; and yet we seemed to be communicating on some level.

I decided that I should stop and pickup some of the cotton, the gift this out of the way plant had offered me. Not sure why I felt I needed to accept these bowls, this fruit from my buddy except that in accepting them I would make its life, its difficulties and suffering to survive worth the pain it took to bring these bowls to maturity for me. If I could not appreciate its efforts then who would?

Puling off the road I filled a couple shopping bags with the soft white bowls, all while cars were whizzing by with people in them I am sure wondering what that obviously crazy Gringo was doing. Do not ask me why doing this seemed so important but it did. Less than a week later I received my answer as another group of workers came by and cut my plant to the ground not leaving even a hint that a brave, vibrant life had ever existed on that spot. To say I was sad would be an understatement. I am sure a little moisture fell on this old farmer’s cheeks as I slowly drove by looking at the now clean and seemingly sanitized spot where I felt a kinship few would understand. But gone it was. Driving home slowly I suddenly realized that I had the answer to why I had collected those cotton bowls and protected them from all harm. The answer was in my rear view mirror. Looking back I could still see that barren area but now knowing that I had the bowls, and so, an undetermined amount of seeds from my plant. Yes, my tough old, and apparently wise green buddy had gifted me with seeds to carry on his legacy if he would cease to exist.

Getting home I set out trying to find where I stored those cotton bowls. I remember thinking they would have to be stored in a cool dry place. But where? Looking and looking I only found my exasperation when the bowls were no place to be found. Okay I told myself, they will show up sooner or later. I cannot plant them until March or April anyway so there is no real hurry.

About a month later as I was looking for a pair of pliers there those white bowls were right where I had left them. The reason for needing pliers was lost in my excitement of having located my long lost treasures.

As I was picking through the cotton to remove the seeds I kept thinking about where these life giving seeds came from. I felt honored to be a part of what might be a way to complete the circle of life. My idea of course was to plant some of the seeds to see if I could be a conduit in trying to close the loop on the circle.

The day came and my wife and I planted just a few of those special seeds. Some were planted in a flower garden type area where the new plantings would enjoy the morning sun but would be shaded from the hot summer blaze that August and September might bring. We planted them approximately one foot apart, and then three in three separate fairly large flower pots.

The seeds that I planted at our ranch in the Fresno area were acid delinted, which means that all the lint was removed from the seeds using a special process and then of course treated with other products to make certain they would nearly all germinate or sprout and then hopefully mature into healthy full size cotton plants. These seeds of mine had none of the tender loving care usually bestowed on the seeds of which I was familiar.

But I thought, I have little to loose by dropping them in the ground at the right time and then keeping them damp. I really had very little expectation that they would grow. And if they did grow beyond a seedling just how hardy could they possibly be?

Well, my answer came soon enough as tiny plants almost simultaneously poked their tender heads out of the dirt in the flower garden at first, but then the flower pot plants showed signs of life too! I could see the growth almost daily as they seemed try to reach the warmth of the springtime sun. Their hardiness was never in question. As it turned out all of the seeds planted germinated and became full size adult plants.

Then one evening as I pulled into the driveway my headlights revealed a beautiful flower on one of the plants. This is a sure sign that cotton will be coming soon. At this time, I am still waiting not so patiently for the first bowl to be formed. I feel almost like a father expecting a newborn, but not knowing when it will happen.

I began thinking about that hardy cotton plant standing tall and proud fighting against all odds that it could, it would, survive no matter what obstacle it might encounter. The more obstacles it faced the tougher it became until that once little seedling grew tall and mighty finally doing what it was meant to do. Create seeds to carry on the legacy of that one lost cotton seed that became a mighty plant that would not be destroyed.

Maybe the story of that one wayward and lost cotton seed that fulfilled its mission creating more seeds to carry on is similar to our own lives. We have all overcome some situations that at the time may have seemed so dire, so impossible that we wanted to just give up, shrivel up and die. But something inside of us would not commit to being defeated. Somehow we carried on in our natural attempt to close that circle of life we have been given. I for one believe that circle is worth fighting for never quitting until the two lines meet. For just like the cotton plant we are all much tougher, more driven, more able to overcome than anyone including ourselves would have ever believed.

Now for the rest of the story! Just a few days ago while driving into town I happened to take special notice of the ground where my plant once lived. And there, just barely coming out of the ground were three little leaves solidly attached to a large root still stuck deep in the soil the workers had left behind.

So I suppose the circle of that plants life is not only complete, but now it has a whole new life of its own and will grow meeting new challenges and obstacles but now armed with the knowledge that it will and can overcome whatever may come its way.

What a life lesson this has been for me! Such a positive message from a seed that was never meant to be there much less grow into a plant that would spawn the lives of so many others to come.

I hope this Christmas season brings you happiness and joy. I also hope that the blessings you receive might be passed on to others needing a little help. Maybe, just maybe, we can help someone fill in a few lines or connect some dots in their efforts to fulfill their goal of completing their circle of life.
Greetings and Merry Christmas to everyone from a place I always love to be.

This is my special place.

My Little Village by the Sea

Dario de Baja

Not Better Not Worse…Just Different

If you care you can leave a comment at the end of this article. I do read every one and answer as many as possible.

Not Better Not Worse…Just Different

I do understand how people unfamiliar with how things are done in Baja may have some instances of near insanity trying to figure it all out. Or at least trying to understand the why’s the why not’s and the where for’s. I’ve learned to stop the insanity and for the most part just go with the flow!


Photo by Dario de Baja

For example, several years ago I was in need of a set of tires for one of our vehicles. This is not a unit that is driven with much frequency or many miles, so I opted for a set of good used tires. I found exactly what I wanted, a price was agreed upon and so the tires were mounted on my rims. I noticed that they had not balanced the tires. I was told that they didn’t do that at most “tire shops”.

Okay, so where do I go get them balanced? The owner told me to go to the local alignment and balance shop which is about a half mile down the road. I half jokingly said “so you sell me the tires, you mount the tires, you put the tires on my vehicle and now I have to go to another shop to have them removed and balanced?”

“Yes!” he said as if that is the only way he’s ever considered doing it. It didn’t really upset me too much because, well, face it what else do I really have to do. So I think to myself, let’s see how this odyssey plays out. Shaking my head and laughing in disbelief I pay the man and head on down the road in pursuit of that elusive tire balancing machine.

Pulling into the shop I explained my needs and he said he could do it right away. He drove my car up on the lift and they begin removing the rims that were just installed at the nearby tire shop. The right rear however was installed so tightly, their air tools could not remove the nuts from the wheel. Okay, I can take it back over there to have them loosen up the nuts with their obviously steroid laced impact wrench. I excused myself for a bit to use the restroom. When I returned all four wheels are now back on the car. I asked them if they’d balanced the other three already and they said that no, they would balance them all at once. Again my head is shaking and my lips are smiling, albeit a little less than last time.

Arriving at the tire shop the owner comes over, I explain the situation and he says that yes, sometimes his guys go overboard on tightening the nuts. I asked him what I would have done if I would have had a flat and needed to change the tire. He again with a straight face just handed me a business card and said “you can always call us. We make house and roadside repairs.” Wow! What a deal. Tighten up the nuts so tight you can’t remove them without help from a professional with an impact wrench having drug issues. Suddenly all stops! What the he**? Oh a Taco truck has just pulled up outside. Not wanting to take a chance on getting trampled I step aside and let the herd pass. By the way…excellent tacos!

Back at the alignment and balance shop they successfully remove all four tires in attempt to balance them. All goes fine except for one that they can’t seem to balance. They work on it for a long while and finally explain that the tire is faulty. Okay, this time not smiling I tell them to put the tire back on and I make the now very familiar trek back to the tire shop. Explaining the situation the owner finally relents, finding another tire and does what I ask him to do with nary a smile on my face. I tried but it just would not come!

While putting the replacement tire on my car I remind them not to over tighten the lug nuts. This was not received with the greatest of appreciation. But to be honest with you I had pretty much lost the ability to smile and be nice.

Back to the alignment shop I go, knowing that the State Police or some other law enforcement agency was probably watching this obviously drug dealing American go back and forth all morning long between auto shops in an effort to thwart and confuse their keen sense of money and drug laundering going on between two rivals. Ah yes, finally a smile appears!

The alignment shop now has a stall with my name on it. I pull onto the rack and four workers jump on the task at hand. But not before that damned taco truck shows up. Is he following me? After a short break and a few tacos they get the job done in no time.

He even threw in a front end alignment for all my trouble. Perhaps the quivering lips and bloody red eyes had a role in his decision. Anyway, when they were finished he took it out for a test run. Upon returning he says that he thinks I have another bad tire that needs to be replaced. His timing was that of a talented comedian as a smile came across his lips when he said “just joking compadre! All is good!”

Four tires balanced and a front end alignment for $200.00 pesos. That’s about $14.00 US at the time. And yes, my smile returned!

Just remember, these things while perhaps not being correct or lacking common sense in our past lives are just how things are done here in our little village. The fact that we have to come to terms with is that we are probably not going to change a culture overnight; maybe we’ll never succeed in that effort. But we should be cautious in our attempts to change too much of what we might find silly or downright stupid lest we find we have replaced their culture and their values with what we all came here to try to escape. You know the old saying “we have found the enemy and it is us!”

So perhaps let my story be a backdrop next time you find yourself in what you might consider a catch 22 situation or something so plainly stupid or so idiotic you feel the need to lash out. Bite your tongue if you have to; not someone else’s. Smile if you can knowing that the sun will come up over our beautiful Sea of Cortez tomorrow morning and the waves will still be lapping at your toes as you plop your ass down in the sand of our special place.

Do yourself and everyone here a favor. Leave your emotional baggage at the border along with your predetermined ideas about how, based upon your previous life we should live out our lives here in our little piece of paradise. These people, the Mexican people, have been muddling through their lives long before we ever arrived and will probably continue after we are less than footnote in history.
For the most part the people that call this place home even for a short while love it for what it is. Is it perfect? No probably not. Part of our blessing is that this place is not for everyone, which is precisely why there is a north and south bound lane coming and going from our damn near perfect place.
Our Little Village by the Sea!


Photo by Dario de Baja

Dario de Baja

My First Time


Note: If you’d like, you can leave comments in the section just after this short story
I promise I do read them all and answer as many as possible

Most, perhaps many of us have lived enough life and so are mature enough to have enjoyed several firsts in our lives. Some firsts might be more important than others, while some can be placed into the “I wish I could forget that ever happened” category. But then there are those that bring back certain feelings of joy, well being, or simply are so positive that you want to revisit those emotions, those memories from time to time.

The latter is the case when I think back to my first visit to our little village of San Felipe.
The year was 1963 and I was a mere thirteen year old boy trying to find my way in life. My father and I never had much of a personal relationship which was quite common back in those days. An outward show of love or affection for your son was many times to be taken as a weakness. Thankfully, not all, but far too many families lived with such silly and destructive morale. Unfortunately, my relationship with my dad fell into that category.

One day, unbeknownst to my father I overheard him and an older friend of his talking about going fishing. They had no idea young ears might be taking all this in but in fact I was hanging on every word just knowing that I would be asked to go along. A week or so passed and nothing was mentioned to me directly about the subject, however, from time to time I’d catch certain pieces of conversations that excited me.

One day I asked my mom if she knew anything about the planned trip and how much fun it sounded. She said that yes, dad and his friend Gordon were planning a fishing trip. Before I knew it the words “do you think I could go too?” came tumbling out of my mouth. Oh she said “I don’t know. I think it’s just a guy thing.” She of course had no way of knowing, but those few words crushed me! My mind yelled out “I’m a guy…aren’t I? What’s wrong with me?” But in the end I just shrugged it off as another disappointment foisted on a young boy begging for a relationship with his dad. Now looking back, the reality of that time seems rather dramatic.

But I can still feel the cloud of disappointment that enshrouded my being for a week or so until one day my dad uttered the most welcoming words he could have ever said to me, “Hey Darryl, Gordon knows of a place he likes to fish. We’re going to go next week for about ten days. Do you want to come with us?” Not until my wife said “yes” to me when asked if she would like to get married had I experienced the feeling of such overwhelming joy and excitement!

I couldn’t get the “HECK YES” out fast enough! “Where are we going?” I asked him. I still remember my dad simply shrugging and saying “it’s someplace called San Felipe in Mexico. Don’t even ask because I don’t know where it is but Gordon says it’s a special place.” Not wanting to rock the boat (no pun intended) I didn’t ask anymore questions. All I knew was that I was going to go someplace with my dad for more than just a few hours and he was going to be all mine for ten whole days. That seemed to be enough.

It was February so it was rather chilly and being February meant that I would have to have my mom write a note for the school excusing me during that time. Taking the note to school I remember feeling so excited when my teacher read the note that had been in a sealed envelope. Then knowingly he looked at me and said “looks like you’re going to have a good time!” I still don’t know what the note said, but I really didn’t care! Only one final hurdle to overcome! Don’t do anything stupid that would give anyone a reason to takeaway my special time with my dad.

I was successful and so the day came to load all our guy and fishing stuff into Gordon’s new 1963 GMC four wheel drive pickup. It was a four speed on the floor so, I, being in the middle of the front seat, (the only seat) would be in charge of shifting gears whenever Gordon depressed the clutch. We became a good team at this maneuver. Gordon really took me under his wing and we became very good buddies. Being an older man of forty (lol) I think perhaps he knew more about me than I knew about myself.

Finally all loaded up and on our way we crossed from the U.S. border into Mexico at San Luis. So many new things to see, to smell and to experience! This young man almost had a sensory overload as we slowly drove through the customs gate and then into this whole new world. Taco stands with delicious smelling meats were everywhere. Signs reading tamales, burritos and delicious looking food I’d never heard of before were for sale on every corner.

The sounds of a live band playing Mexican folk music on the corner filled the entire atmosphere around us. My dad asked “you going right or left here Gordon?” Gordon laughed and said that going left would take us to the redlight district. They both laughed but I had no idea what this redlight district was all about but I obviously wanted to find out. And in time it became very clear to me what it was. Trust me when I say I would have never guessed! But I digress…

After many miles traveling through farmland we intersected a junction near Mexicali marked with a small sign reading “San Felipe”. The road south from Mexicali was nothing like it is today, for it took us almost all day to arrive in San Felipe. There were some stretches where Gordon chose to drive off the pavement opting for a smoother off road experience. But arrive we did.

Thankfully, Gordon was somewhat familiar with San Felipe and knew where to go to find a good beach to fish and to setup our camp. Back then there were no hotels that I can recall seeing, just several places that sold beer and soda. As for me I kept looking for a “redlight” someplace in order to solve the redlight district caper. What we now know as the Malecon was just a semi packed sand trail well above the high water mark of the Sea of Cortez.

I can still remember smelling that salty ocean air and listening to the seagulls while watching the pelicans overhead doing their best acrobatic acts. All this being performed for our pleasure…or so I was convinced. Being from the Yuma area these were smells and sounds not regularly found in our part of the world.

Oh my gosh…pinch me! Is this really happening? Could it be that I am here with my dad and a new buddy sharing guy stuff and now they’re talking about going fishing tomorrow? Does it get any better than this? That’s just about the time Gordon says “well let’s get the wood out of the truck and start us a good campfire.” Well there it is. It just got better! I’d always heard about this whole camp on the beach and have a bonfire thing but never really considered I would ever see it much less be a part of it!

The fire is now going strong and we’re stuffed full of some of the best barbecued chicken I have ever enjoyed. It was crusty and beyond burned on the outside and kind of bloody on the inside but it was still the best! I’m sure it had something to do with, well, everything going on around me!
The next day we’re up early to a very cool February morning. I’m drinking my hot chocolate while the guys are drinking their manly cowboy coffee. I’m sure I got the better deal here! Gordon had gotten up earlier and started the fire and so the smell of that wood burning, the cool, salty, morning air while listening to the constant soft chant of the waves made for a mental picture I would hold close my entire life.

About that time a Mexican man came walking by offering to take us out fishing in his Panga. I had no idea what a Panga might be but Gordon seemed to know enough Spanish and Juan our soon to be fishing guide struck up a deal. I remember my dad was hesitant but Gordon being experienced at this talked him into paying half the rental cost.
In just a few minutes we were walking through the warm waters of the Sea of Cortez to get on this thing called a Panga. My dad would sit in front, I would be in the middle while Gordon and Juan would be toward the back of the boat.

A few pulls on the rope, some colorful Spanish language, a little smoke, a quick backfire and that old rusty engine came to life. It purred like a kitten. Well, okay. It sounded more like a feral cat with its tail stuck in the door. But off we went with the front of the boat lifting slightly giving the illusion that we were going much faster than I’m sure we were.

We headed straight east toward the island, that big white rock that seemed to be three hundred miles out to sea, but in reality is approximately only twenty four miles or so. But you know, when you’re kid everything seems bigger and sometimes more vibrant and special. Oh I can still smell that salty air and feel the mist from the sea as we glided over what seemed to be an unending blue dream.

Just then the magic happened as the sun made its first appearance over the ocean of glassy calm brilliance. My dad was seated just a couple feet in front of me so when Juan turned the boat slightly to the left my dad having turned his head just so, put his profile between me and the sun. It was an instant that lasted forever, even until today. This was a perfect moment on a perfect day when several perfect lines intersected right there on that boat on the Sea of Cortez. Even then I recognized I should take in as much as possible in order to make it a part of my forever memory; part of my soul. Even at that young age I knew this experience, this feeling had to be a gift from God.

That vision has never left my memory, for even today when I visit the now paved street with all the activity the Malecon has to offer I sometimes walk down on the sandy beach and reflect back on those few days, that special gift, that changed my life forever.
Looking back I now know and understand that my mother was the catalyst that with very carefully chosen words brought this young boy together with his father for albeit a brief time that has in fact lasted my lifetime.

It would be many years later while looking for a place to explore and perhaps someday retire that I would reacquaint myself and find that San Felipe was of course on my short list of places to visit and learn more about.

I never thought this would be a place where I might find myself watching our beautiful sunrises, and so, reliving that special time over and over again.

Something called my name to visit this place, our special place so many years ago. Happenstance you might say. Perhaps you would be correct. But whatever it might be I’ll take it. For this is still my happy place. Yes, it’s still my wonderful memory laden and still memory making place. Come on down and make some memories of your own. Maybe bring a friend; maybe even your son and help them make their own memories to share someday with their kids!
For it can be yours, as it is indeed ours: Our Special Little Village by the Sea.


Photo by Dario de Baja

Dario de Baja

Dario de Baja

Dario de Baja

They’re Back!


Photo By Dario de Baja

They’re Back! By Dario de Baja
As a full time resident of San Felipe, I’m faced with the same emotional conflict every year. Yes, it is so nice to have the hot temperatures behind us and it is so nice knowing that our payoff is finally here! Perfect temperatures for nearly all outdoor activities can mean only one thing; the snowbirds and part timers are sure to be here soon enough. We can watch the U.S. national weather forecasts and have a pretty good idea when the flight of northerners will begin. Suddenly, right on cue it’s as if someone opened the northern floodgates as a seemingly unending parade of every type of RV known to man and woman is seen approaching San Felipe from the north.

It always makes me wonder, just where do all these people and in some cases their monstrous machines hide? It seems as though somehow, San Felipe and surrounding areas just swallow them all up whole. I must admit that I do get a certain pleasure from watching newly arrived and in some cases first time San Felipe visitors interact with their local Mexican hosts.


Photo By Dario de Baja

Just this morning I was shopping at a local pharmacia when I saw an American couple waiting in line to checkout. I should say impatiently waiting to check out for the husband was doing the old Gringo shuffle.
You’ve seen it before! He shifts his weight from one leg to the other and then checks his watch about every third or fourth shift. Then of course comes the long deliberate Gringo sigh! Hmmm! Looking very irritated his wife looks up at him with a scowl as she warns him “be quiet!” This is of course followed by “why don’t you just go wait in the car if you’re so miserable?” “I’m good! I just want to get going!”
Meanwhile at the front of the line is an elderly lady trying to pay for her medicine using all coins. She is doing her best to count them out of her tiny black change purse but finds she is five pesos short. She explains “es todo lo que tengo” (“that’s all I have”) “Esta bien”. (“it’s okay”) says the young woman at the register. Again with the Gringo shuffle and a few more sighs. I’m expecting this guy to blow like La Bufadora just anytime.
“Oh this is gonna be so much fun!” (okay yes, I can be evil)
There are a couple more people in front of us, so there is plenty of time to get to know these two hurried visitors from the north.

I smile my best innocent smile “Hi there! How are you today?” He grunts like a moose having found his prey during mating season. “Where are you from in the states?” I ask. Looking them over a little closer I can see they are as white as sea salt and dressed in their best “lookie here! We’re tourist outfits”. Finally managing to speak the man informs me that they are from “The Bay Area”. Oh really? Where at in the bay area? “Around a little town named Lodi” he mumbles. Of course not ever being one to leave well enough alone I say “wow they’ve really extended the bay area! Just the other day that was known to be the Stockton area! Glad you’re not stuck there again!” Not impressed with my obvious smart ass attitude, knowledge of geographical locations, music, and the fact that his wife began snickering at him made Mr. Grouch break out in a slight smile. Well now, it may have been gas, but I choose to believe it was a smile.

Then he asks me how I knew they weren’t from around here. I laughed and said “well let me count the ways!” I explained the whole gringo shuffle thing, and then went on to explain that hardly anyone that lives here wears a watch. Also the people that call this place home are more kick back, tolerant and relaxed than you seem to be. I went on to explain how so many people come here to untie the knots they have managed to put in their ropes sometimes over a lifetime, only to try to put knots in our ropes. “Let me tell you something, we don’t need or want any damn knots!”


Photo By Dario de Baja

He asked a very valid question. “How do you people get anything done around here?” You people? So I asked him what he had to do when he got back to his RV.
His wife broke out in a laugh and said “sit in his damn chair, drink beer and swear at the politicians on TV!” “Wow, now that sounds like fun!” Laughing I suggested that maybe spending the morning relaxing, while soaking in the sun, maybe a few beers and untying some of those knots might have some rewards too. I told her to take him to the beach with some beer and start untying those knots together. I told her she might have a few knots herself. She laughed and said “no doubt! But I know he put them there!” I told her not to worry, because the politicians will still be there when you get back to your RV later!

I would like to believe I may have made a difference in those people’s lives.
I know they certainly impacted mine. I could see just how far I have come in the untying process since I began calling this magical place home.
This whole scenario is played out over and over again in our little village.
We are so blessed to live in such a wondrous place where so many people save and scrimp all year long just to have the resources to come here for a brief respite from their personal reality; their ropes. Perhaps we can help them in their untying process?

I think we can share this place of ours with them as long as we can keep in mind that we don’t need any damn knotty ropes to live, love and enjoy life in San Felipe. This is after all our place; it’s our special place.
This is Our Little Village by the Sea.


Photo By Dario de Baja

Dario de Baja

They’re Back! By Dario de Baja