Cabo Redux

The second time around, I am really coming to appreciate this place. It was 46 degrees when I stepped onto the plane in Mexico City, and 84 degrees when I landed in San José del Cabo. With seemingly just one arid step into the Cabo air, I felt relief from the cold I had picked up days before in near-wintry Europe. Indeed, within two days, I was completely fine. My body likes this place and feels healthy in this heat.

The second time around, everything just looks brighter and better. The climate is different, specifically hotter, now than it was when I first arrived here. But there’s more to it than that. The first time I was here, I got used to it quickly, as one does. I took it for granted. No matter how wonderful anything is, we can only appreciate it for so long. But to leave and return brings back the joy, if ephemeral. In this case, the second time is better than the first. Perhaps it’s because of the familiarity.

The second time around, this feels like home. Or at least, it feels like I know the place, and the people. I know how to get around. I know my favorite places to eat. It’s great to discover a place you like. But it’s better to return to it after a long absence. Fondness ages like a fine wine and greater time apart can amplify the enjoyment of the return.

The second time around, I overlook what I didn’t like before. The retirees and drunken partygoers alike are just friendly compatriots enjoying the Baja sun, the land of “no bad days,” where the cacti meet the ocean. I notice the classiness of the wealthy Mexicans who vacation here, and the Americanness my people. They get along great, unified in their tan lines and sandy tires.

The second time around, the sand is still rocky, but the waves are magnificent. It was here that I first met source, speaking with the sun and moon as the guest of the sea. The view from here didn’t get old the first time, and I don’t think it ever will. Cabo Bello may not be heaven, but it is divine.

The second time around, the whales still beckon. They greet me in the morning. The first time I was here, I watched as the whales left for their Odysseian migration. By the time I left, they were all gone. Now the whales are back. I find myself wondering, “are these indeed, my same old friends?”