In the last couple of years, luxe accommodations and incredible restaurants have quietly started drawing sophisticated travelers to San Jose. What was formerly the more commercial of the two Cabos, San Jose has become a haven for artists, foodies, and travelers looking for something a little more authentic than the glitz and glamour of Cabo. This winter, I decided to stay put in San Jose. Either I hole up in a luxury resort along the corridor that connects San Jose with Cabo or I drive up the Pacific Coast to the towns of Pescadero and Todos Santos make no mistake Baja is in my blood forever. In spite of that, I still go back to Baja every year.
My parents decided to sell their spot in 1999, during the height of the boom. In what felt like no time at all, the village that I knew as a child became a mecca for tourists the marina was dug, hotels were raised, and direct flights brought people en masse. Cabo was a village fringed by empty beaches leading to the deep blue Pacific, and populated by fishermen bronzed by endless sunshine. Over the course of the 20 years that we spent time in Cabo, tourism grew faster than the infrastructure could be built. At that time, Cabo was tranquil there was no marina, no stoplight, no pavement, few tourists, and definitely no Domino's Pizza. Our small condo development, one of the first in Cabo, was built by an American family who had ditched the States in search of the slow life in paradise.
We would walk off the plane and hop into a taxi for the drive down the windy, dilapidated road that linked San Jose with Cabo - there was no highway back then, and I always got carsick. Back then, coming from Seattle, we would overnight in Los Angeles before flying to the thatched roof airport in San Jose del Cabo. My parents purchased a condo in Cabo San Lucas because it was the only place in Mexico that my mother had not gotten sick. I first visited Los Cabos, at the southern tip of Baja, in 1980.
0 kommentar(er)
