Loreto Mexico January 2015 | Heading for home

It’s our last night in Loreto. This morning we walked the length of the beach to the north, past all the beach-front haciendas. I think of that end of the town as gringo-land, because I can’t imagine that any Mexican Loretones can afford to live there.  It was hot today—29 degrees—and we finally had to stop and rest. We settled on the stone wall of a house and imagined what it would be like to live in a beachfront home near a tiny Mexican fishing village. We’ve met people our age who have been here for 15 or more years. I think they must have been courageous to leave the comforts of home in Canada or the US to venture into this desert with its rutted streets and swirling dust. 

Next up, a latte for me and cappuccino for Margaret at Delicias, a small café where Luis and Poloa know our order by heart, and where Annie is always welcome. Today Luis wrote our names in chocolate on our drinks! Some tacos for lunch at Sabor and we were home to the pool and our packing by 130. 

Tonight we headed out to dinner on foot as usual and ended up at Papagayo, a mesquite grill restaurant on the pedestrian walkway. It’s the first night we’ve gone by to find it open. We shared—we’ve learned how to say in Spanish that we want to do this—a house salad and a plate of ribs served with a yummy side dish of black beans, peppers, onions and who knows what else that was absolutely delish, and chips and …ketchup. Never thought fries and ketchup could taste sooooo good. We bumped into Angela and Peter and their daughter and friend at Agave on the way back, so stopped and had a drink with them. I had a chance to talk to Ulises too. He’s the promoter/ salesman for the fishermans’ cooperative that works the marina offering trips to the islands, and I’ve met him many times around town. We had a great chat and I learned a little about his family, his work, and Loreto. It’s so very friendly here. You end up on a first-name basis with almost everyone you meet within a matter of days!

I know this town will be transformed once the deep sea fishing season opens, but right now it is a quiet oasis in the desert. I can’t say I’ve stopped hearing the gallos crowing in the night, or the dogs barking when we walk by with Annie, or the constant grumble of trucks rolling into the supermercado next door, but I’m starting to appreciate other things: the cheers from the ball park on soccer night, the tap-tap-tap of a little bird who seems to show up just as we crawl into bed each night, the smiles and laughter of the children when they see Annie, greetings from shop-keepers as we walk by each day.

 It’s a small town and the people here make their living from tourists. As Ulises told me tonight, we want to show you a good time, we want to give you a good impression, we want you to come back. And we are good people, kind people. I have to agree.