Coincidence or cosmic, this guy, who turned out to be Gary Moffat, came up to me in the lobby of the little hotel where I was staying in San Jose del Cabo, and said “Lloyd!”
Turns out he had sent me pics of his decked-out Chrysler hybrid minivan a week earlier.
We were on the same wave length.
Here are a few rushed shots of his rig, I asked him to send me details for my blog. It’s a great build; he gets 33 mpg, at times 40 mpg.
Conversion kit by Vanpackers
A few words about my extraordinary friend (of 36 years), Chilón, who has been my guide, fellow explorer, delightful companion. Among other things, he’s provided me with a window into the world as Mexicans see it.
We’ve been to cave painting sites, remote ranchos, multiple taco stands attended solely by Mexicans. His two boys are like my nephews, about the same age as my two sons.
He’s full of good humor, and generates delight wherever we go. We went to Costa Rica together, and when we took cabs in the capital, San Jose, he’d sit in front, start telling jokes and the cabbies would be laughing so hard they could hardly drive.
He had a radio program for 15 years, where his name was Periquín, or “parrot,” that was immensely popular with local kids. He’d say, (in Spanish), Now, Luis and Maria, you mind your parents, and do your homework, and now here is the latest song from The Rolling Stones.”
The last photo is of a woman who recognized him as Periquín on the beach at Los Cerritos last week.
This trip has been cosmic. First, it’s been healing. Out of the heavy rains and winds into the bright blue sunshine of this most southern part of California was just what I needed. Plus meeting a ton of great people, Mexicans and gringos.
It’s been like coming home. I spent 12 years coming down here 2–3 times a year, so I know my way around. In spite of the enormous growth, I still love it. Like San Francisco, years ago I decided to stop bitching about the glass half full, and enjoy the still wonderful parts of the city.
Another extraordinary thing: people recognize me. Has happened half a dozen times down here. Happened on the street in Berlin, city of 2 million people, a guy walking by says “Lloyd!”
I think it has a lot to do with sticking around long enough…
Examples of monster clueless houses on Cabo de Esto.
No understanding or respect for the locale.
I kinda like the last one, an outbuilding.
Practical Baja shelter, palapa roof over trailer.
What you really need in the desert is shade; most of your living can be outside, you just need protection from the sun.
This is on land of Kathleen Martin and Gary Brown on the Cabo de Este, near Shipwrecks.
Chilón says probably crashed drug dealer plane.
Many Mexicans believe that the DEA has supplied guns to the cartels.
Check out “Operation Fast and Furious” on Wikipedia or Google, a failed DEA attempt to track which resulted in drug dealers getting guns.
To many Mexicans the DEA is the biggest cartel in Mexico.
Pangas are fiberglass boats common throughout Mexico and much of the developing world, with upswept bow, good for beach landing.
Three guys were fishing, two jumped out, and this guy went back out, waited for the right swell, then gunned it.
They then pulled in farther with a Datsun truck.
The Mexicans love my running shoes made into sandals.
Funny, no one ever notices in USA.
Angel Robles has his exquisitely beaded Huichol art at his table in the San Jose del Cabo plaza on weekends.
I wonder if the bracelet I bought could qualify me in a cross-cultural way as a Swifty. Which is OK with me.
