Day Eight – Bitten and Burnt but Satisfied

Woke up earlier than normal lastnight – I woke at 02h30 to a high whine circling my face.

After a couple of hours thinking I could ignore the occasional brush against my eyelashes I finally fished the bug cream out of my bag and painted a war stripe down my nose. Slept like a baby the rest of the night.

Woke up to polk-a-dot arms.

I decided at the last minute not to bother trying to negotiate surf lessons for today. Instead I just caught a ride to Los Cerritos (the surf beach) with the surfers and then wandered down the beach on my own.

Studying the wavesHealing… slowly.

This beach was perfecto para mi. After walking for an hour or so I came upon a woman “kiting” her parasail. I stood watching.. photographing, for a bit and then approached the man who was with her and asked about what they were doing. We visited for quite awhile about paragliding and what he does. Turns out it was likely time profitably spent for both of us since I find myself deeply interested in trying this and he, when they left a few hours later, offered to give me 50% off the 10-day training package. If I were a betting woman, I’d wager that this will be how I kick off my travels next winter.

Other than that.. laid in the sun, contemplated the lint in my navel, finished Bill, splashed around in the waves (OMG fun) and got burnt. Oh, and broke my second pair of sunglasses. ‘Twas lovely.

Around 15h30 I decided I should start moseying home… can’t leave these things too late when hitch hiking.

First I was picked up by a small group of Idahoans, on Baja for a wedding, all drinking in the rental car, of moderate interest. Unfortunately, or fortunately, they were only going to Pescadero, so I had to stick out my thumb for the second time.

This time it was on the highway, arguably less ideal than on a road only frequented by tourists and those that profit from the tourist industry. Still, was picked up after only three tries, by a bright orange half truck-half car, whose window handle fell off when I opened the door. Seat belts did not exist, locks no, door handle no, dials on the dash no… first words out of my mouth on ducking into the cab were, “This is amazing! Oh, thank you!”

Anyhow, this gentleman turned out to have spent the last four years in White Rock, originally from Mexico City, moved here to open Jungle Pescadero. He gave me some tips about what to do in La Paz and mentioned his glass canoe trips. Pretty cooooool.

Am back, eating delicious food, (goat cheese has found its way back into my life thank god), drinking delicious wine and considering one of the cigars Kari left behind.

Buenas noches amigos.

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