Since we missed the cold weather and all that ugly late-winter snow this year, some of you probably think that we didn’t need a spring vacation. You are probably right – we weren’t driven by that tired-of-all-this-crap weather weariness that we have experienced before. But one of the advantages(?) of owning a timeshare is that you are compelled to take regular vacations whether you need them or not. In our case we had a bunch of vacation credits built up over the past two years are were facing a use-it-or-lose-it situation. So we just HAD to go somewhere. And since we were already in California, why not take advantage of our proximity and go experience Cabo San Lucas? The pictures looked stunning and it is one of those places with a certain jet-set cachet, like Cannes or Majorca.
So we cashed in most of our banked credits for a week at The Playa Grande Resort and Spa on the beach in Cabo San Lucas. It was a relatively sedate week: we took just one excursion – a snorkeling trip. The rest of the week was spent in the hotel and wandering about the city.
And looking for a new camera as I destroyed ours by wading into the surf with it in my pocket.
Duh.
Brand new, too. That was a $200 mistake that my son, who once destroyed a cell phone the same way, will enjoy.
The worst thing about it was that I lost all the photos I took while on a day trip to San Diego with Ray, Jett’s brother. I still hold out some hope that I will be able to recover those, but until I do, there will be no blogging about that trip.
But back to Cabo. The hotel is striking. It is built on a rocky shore and so has many levels. This makes it very picturesque but also makes it difficult to navigate. To get from our hotel room to the lobby we had to:
- walk down the hall to the elevator
- take the elevator down one floor
- walk down the hall, through a small open plaza, into another building
- take the elevator up three floors
- walk up an inclined driveway
- walk through an elevated breezeway
- take an elevator down one floor
- walk down the hall, past the spa, to the lobby
Total distance: about 400 paces. And that was the shortcut, found after using a longer route the first day.
First floor hallway
Breezeway
Playa Grande
One of the things that attracted us to the Playa Grande was the beach, a big beautiful strand of soft white sand. It didn’t disappoint in a visual sense – it was very scenic. But not swimmable. There was a big sign near the surf that warned against swimming there, or even dipping your toes in. Apparently the undertow is severe and several tourists had been carried away to their deaths. Better to keep them on land where they could continue to buy overpriced drinks.
Beach, looking toward The Arch
The beach warning
Surf
The beach, looking right
Soft sand
The hotel compensated for the beach by providing 7 large pools and numerous whirlpools and hottubs, a lot of pool acreage for the 350 rooms. The main pools were very nice, but our favorites were the two infinity pools on “The Ridge” – the block of rooms that sat atop the rocky ridge. One pool overlooked the ocean and the other overlooked the harbor.
Pools nearest the beach
Mid-level pool
Kiddie pool on The Ridge
Swim-up bar on The Ridge
Infinity pool on The Ridge
It turns out that being residents of a room on The Ridge entitled us to some special privileges, which, unfortunately, no one bothered to tell us about. We found out that we held an exalted status when we invited another couple to come up to the infinity pool and they told us later that they were unable to do so because their key cards did not work in the elevator that carried guests up to The Ridge. It also entitled us to use an entrance from the street that, if we were walking back from town, saved us about a half mile of walking. Again, no one told us this and we learned of it from another Ridge guest on Thursday, 5 days into our 7-day vacation. We also had privileges to use the very cool mini-golf course that I never once saw anyone on, probably because, like us, no one told them that they had that privilege.
The minigolf course, from the breezeway
What the guy at the desk did tell us, when we checked in, was that there was absolutely no smoking in the room. Jett, a smoker for over 40 years, nearly strangled me. I truly believed that I had asked for – and had been granted – a smoking room. In Jett’s words to me, delivered with considerable force: “You have just ruined my vacation!” In an attempt to salvage the situation, I asked if smoking was allowed on the balcony. The clerk screwed up his face, trying very hard to come up with an answer to this colossally difficult question, then said “I guess that would be OK, so long as your neighbors don’t complain.” Well, when we got to the room I was very relieved to see not only an ashtray, but also a book of matches, on the table on the balcony. Apparently the housekeeping staff believed that smoking on the balcony was just fine. Besides, we never saw our neighbors. Vacation (and my life, probably) saved.
The fact that the room was awesome also helped smooth Jett’s feathers. It was probably the nicest hotel room we have ever had. King-size bed with a very comfortable pillowtop mattress, a full kitchen, TWO full marble baths, a large living room/dining room combination and a huge balcony with two chairs, two large high-def televisions, a loveseat and two tables, all with a very nice view overlooking the harbor. Over 800 square feet – twice the size of Patience. Sleeps 6 comfortably with a Murphy bed, a roll-out single bed and a large sofa. Awesome.
View from the balcony
Kitchen
Murphy bed
Left side of balcony
Right side of balcony
Master bath with jacuzzi
Dressing table in bedroom
Second bath
Living room TV
Dining room table
Because we had the kitchen we did not use the hotel’s restaurants much. The meals we did take in the restaurants were mediocre, as was the service. We did attend a Mexican Fiesta that included an all-you-can-eat Mexican buffet and an all-you-can-drink Mexican bar, but it, too, was mediocre. There was some Mexican entertainment that was fun (including the gentleman from Alabama who performed a very enticing strip-tease, only to pull off his shirt to reveal… another shirt and red suspenders. Pretty funny.
The grounds were very clean and well-maintained. Two poor guys were in the fish pond every day keeping the scum off the bottom. Heck of a full-time job. The gardens were very nice and very relaxing. Most importantly, there was a coffee station that served very good cappuccino. Jett was there every day.
Jett at the Coffee Station
Whirlpool
Fish pond
Aquaduct waterfall
Walkway
Walkway
Most of the week there was work being done to replace the terracotta tiles on the dome over the lobby. The noise of a dozen hammers, reverberating in the granite lobby, like a thousand Irish step-dancers with bad timing, was nearly unbearable to me the few times I walked through. It must have been horrendous for the people who work there. I wonder how many of the staff cut their wrists that week.
Here is my summary report card:
- Accommodations: A+
- Amenities: A
- Location: B
- Convenience: C
- Service: C- (except for some of the porters – Manny and Chuy especially – who were pleasant and helpful)
- Food: C-
- Communication: F
A bombing too close to home
Like most Americans, I was shocked on Monday when two bombs shattered the festive Boston Marathon holiday. Like most Americans, I felt that it was, in some respects, a personal attack on me. Like most Americans, I cheered at the death of one bomber and the capture of the other Friday night. Like most Americans, I look forward to seeing him get his due.
But this bombing hit closer to home for me than for most Americans. One of the fatalities – Krystle Campbell – was from Medford, my current home town. The assassination of the MIT campus police officer (and what was the point of that anyway?) occurred less than a half mile from my office in Cambridge and on the campus of my alma mater. The car chase, punctuated by the tossing of homemade grenades, took place on the banks of the Charles River, where I spent many hours running in my younger and more fit days. The shootout, and the death of the first bomber, occurred on a street on which one of my Little League players lived many years ago. The capture of the second bomber occurred less than half a mile from my son’s apartment in Watertown.
All of it very painful and very, very close to home.
But I must say that the Massachusetts State Police, the FBI and the Boston and Watertown police did a superb job in running these dogs to ground. I was very impressed by the surreal but very methodical and effective door-to-door search in Watertown. I think they all did a wonderful job under very stressful circumstances.
I take my Boston Red Sox cap off to all who participated in the search and capture.
But I hope I never see a week like that again.