A month ago, I spent a week down in San Jose del Cabo with my husband Clint and his family.  We had a direct flight out of LAX, to San Jose.

I love traveling with my husband, we rarely fight or get too stress.  We’ve pretty much mastered the techniques for getting through security as painlessly as possible, EVEN when we get selected for secondary screening, which happens often since we are often flying standby.  While waiting to board our flight, I did a quick sketch of the boarding area.  I think the gentlemen in the blue shirt  got a little suspicious of what I was doing.  He kept staring at me for most of the time I was drawing.  Most likely, he was trying to figure out what I was doing.  Hopefully he wasn’t a mob boss, and was planning on having me wacked for capturing his likeness.

On the flight, I got to enjoy a refreshing “Mexi-coke.”  The Coke bottled in Mexico is made using real sugar, instead of corn syrup like we do in the states.  As a result, I believe it takes slightly better than our Coke in the US.  Most likely, it is all in my head.  But it was fun to see the World Cup hype in Spanish.  The flight from LA to del Cabo is about three hours. Just long enough to get started on a good book, or watch a movie.

Our flight arrived before Clint’s folks.  So we relaxed in the small airport bar.  The NBA finals were playing on the TV (Boston vs Orlando).  San Jose del Cabo airport it a tiny place, with two baggage carousals, but the moment you walk out the door into the terminal, you are bombarded by men trying to sell you rental cars, and have you sign up to visit their time shares.  We’ve had to walk this gauntlet every time we’ve landed in Cabo.  I’ve always imagined that there were always there, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting tourist just off the plane.  But what I never considered was the small number of flights that arrive in this tiny airport on a daily basis.  There might be one every few hours.  Max.  So what do these eager salesmen do while they are waiting for the next flight of fresh meat to come in? They sit at the bar, drink beer, and watch the NBA finals.

We stayed at the Grand Mayan Resort.  The Grand Mayan in San Jose is not as large as the one in Puerto Vallarta, but what it lacks in size, it makes up for in style and comfort.  To enter the hotel, you first have to pass through a dark, vaulted, marble room.  As you look up, and up, at two very large statues of a Mayan man and woman, you hear drums and flutes playing in the background.  I half expected to get attacked by a raiding party every time I passed through the gates.  All in all, it made for a very cool first impression.

My favorite part of the resort was, of course, the pool.  Nothing says vacation like being served a Pina Colada, while floating in the water next to a giant stone dragon.  And that is pretty much what I did for the whole week.  It was hot enough outside that it was just a little too uncomfortable laying around, unless you were fresh out of the pool.

I spent most of the week lathered in SPF 80+ sunscreen, and I still managed to bet fairly burned.  And thanks to the Irish blood in me, my body doesn’t know how to tan, but just likes to burn, and peel.  And freckle.

After spending two days in San Jose, we took a road trip north to a little sea side village called Bahia de los Suenos, or “Bay of Dreams.”  The funny thing is, it used to be called Bahia de los Muertos, “Bay of the Dead,” but they changed the name so that tourists wouldn’t be scared away. Personally, I find “Bay of the Dead” much more interesting.

We were invited to stay at a lovely place called Rancho de Coasta, by a friend of Clint’s father.  This place was truly breath taking, sitting right on the beach, over looking the most beautiful blue water I have ever seen.

We went swimming and fishing and snorkeling. We lounged by the pool, ate fresh fish tacos, and guacamole, and grilled steaks.  I went fishing with Clint on the second day there, caught a few fish that were good for eating, and of course, a pelican…or two.  I can’t seem to get away from them.  I must look like a push over.

We headed back down the Baja, to the Grand Mayan.  The day before we left, we took a trip down to Cabo San Lucas, the town at the very tip of the Baja, for lunch at our favorite restaurant, “The Office.”  This place is NOT an office, nor is it at all associated with the NBC TV show. It is a ocean front restaurant, that served the yummiest garlic crab, and margaritas.  And by ocean front, I mean literally. Your feet are in the sand. Clint and I make it a point to get there every time we visit Cabo, and I order the crab every time.  Word of warning, if you should visit during Happy Hour…you will not be walking in a straight line when you leave.  Their drinks are HUGE, and will last you all day.

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