Thursday, November 29, 2012

Partial ownership shares or timeshares in the resort (16USC398d)

In case you don't know me personally, I'm more than a little skeptical, so I didn't react well when TJ got sucked into a deal at Hilton Grand Vacations in Las Vegas. We'd get a nice room right on the Strip, at a cut-rate price, plus vouchers for a meal and a future hotel stay. The catch: We had to commit to listening to a two-hour pitch for a timeshare. 

TJ put it on the line as soon as the sales rep started speaking: We are absolutely not the right market for a timeshare, and we are only here for the free stuff. I have to give the guy credit; he was persistent. I even respected him until he fell into desperation moves. Toward the end of the two hours, he looked at me and asked me to share my opinion, implying that TJ doesn't or wouldn't let me do so. I think he was stunned when I responded that I was in absolute agreement with my husband, so I felt no reason to interrupt -- or pay attention, for that matter.

To be honest, if I were a different kind of person and traveler, I might've been convinced by the financial savings. But if you don't like peanut butter, you're not going to buy a lifetime supply, no matter how cheap the jars are. So we didn't buy anything, but we did pay with two hours of our lives. And for this, I believed TJ owed me for going along with this trip, to a city I don't really love. 

Luck was with him in Vegas, though, because I actually enjoyed many of the activities we stumbled into. We ran across Turf from America's Got Talent performing on a street corner. TJ was not awed by his stardom, but he was impressed by his moves. To me, this might be one of my best celebrity sightings. What do you think: Is Turf better than Tom Berenger or Ric Flair or Jackie Mason
Another reality-show stud was in town, but we didn't run into him, I'm afraid. Adam Richman was hosting the World Food Championships at Bally's. Because of the, ahem, fine print of our vacation, we didn't see the main competitions, which included burgers and barbeque, but we saw the end of what appeared to be an al fresco and amateur Iron Chef, except four chefs presented their final dishes, with the secret ingredient of salmon, to only two judges.
With our appetites whetted, we used our meal voucher for our own bit of gourmet, at Le Café Ile St. Louis in Paris. The fake French bistro on a fake French cobblestone street under a fake French sky was a little cheesy, but the food was excellent. We started with -- what else? -- escargot, followed by Filet au Poivre for TJ and Boeuf Bourguignon for me, then ended with raspberry-filled mousse and a chocolate-frosted eclair.
Since TJ had paid his debt to me, I let him enjoy some of his favorite Vegas hobbies, like drinking 50-cent Hamm's draft beers while playing video poker at Las Vegas Club on Fremont Street and drinking $2 microbrews while not gambling during happy hour at Ellis Island Brewery.
I even coaxed him into finally playing $3-minimum blackjack at Circus Circus after some $1 video-table practice at Slots A Fun. We managed to spend a respectable amount of time in the game, but still, we walked away as losers. In the end, our savings-account balances were a little bit lower -- but by less than, say, a timeshare in Orlando.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Responsible policies will continue to require fathers to support their children (SHrg110-107)

So I made my dad come to visit me for a month, then ...

I made him eat typical fish (and marlin and octopus) tacos at Mariscos El Mazateno after a quick walk-through of the consulate.
I made him visit the border at Playas de Tijuana and drink beer at a wind-worn patio bar.
I made him walk the Rosarito pier so he'd burn some calories before eating Puerto Nuevo lobster from Restaurante Luis.
I made him try crazy types of ice cream at Tepoznieves and the best pork tortas ever at the Baja California Culinary Fest.
I made him tour the Valle de Guadalupe, including Italian vineyards Villa Montefiori, Catalan winery Vinos Pijoan, Mexican vintnor JC Bravo, and multinational producer L.A. Cetto.
 
I made him drink even more Baja wine at Ochentos Pizza, where we tried four kinds of pizza with some help from a furry friend and candlelight.
I made him drink even more wine in Temecula, including multiple award winners at South Coast Winery, holiday table wine at Wiens Family Cellars, almond champagne at Wilson Creek Winery, Solera-style port at Longshadow Ranch Winery, and cream sherry at Mount Palomar Winery.
I made him sample caramel-, pumpkin-, and berry-apple pie slices with homemade whipped cream, cinnamon ice cream, and cheddar cheese on the side at Julian Pie Company.
I made him look at the desert and dunes surrounding the Salton Sea from Cleveland National Forest.
I made him walk up a steep hill to see the sparkling vista of Torrey Pines State Reserve.
I made him stalk the sea lions at La Jolla Cove and search for harbor seals at the Children's Pool.
I made him get up-close and personal with a cheetah and other animals at San Diego Zoo Safari Park.
I made him stuff himself with an oversized meal from Flinn Springs Inn.
I made him take in the view of San Diego's skyline from the USS Midway, where we found an "Eggert" listed on the "duty board."
 
I made him bask in the sunset from Portwood Pier, just a few blocks from his rented condo in Imperial Beach.
I did not make him drive, although he chose to do so anyway, but I made him consult TJ about the route.
 
I made him tired enough to want to go home.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Caused by a sudden temperature change from hot to cold (72FR20712)

The Baja border-to-tip road trip is such a tradition that it's been turned into a sporting event, the Baja 1000 (by Americans, of course). Having only six days for our trip, a race would've been the only way we could've made it all the way from Tijuana to Los Cabos. Instead, we decided to take our time and make it only part way, to Bahía de los Ángeles, which is about a third of the way down the peninsula on the Sea of Cortez side.

After getting a not-so-early start, we sped as fast we could through Rosarito and Ensenada, hoping we could reach Bahía de los Ángeles in a day. But by the time we reached El Rosario, we realized that we might need to adjust our schedule. Since it was already about dinner time and we had only made it slightly more than halfway, we had to decide whether to head into the desert. After we found some promising camping entries in the guidebook, we pushed on, after picking up some lobster burritos from Mama Espinoza's, a popular -- and overpriced -- pit stop for many race fans.
The sun was setting by the time we drove into Cataviña. It was so late that when we started setting up our tent at Rancho Santa Inés, a few miles outside of town, no one even came to ask for the camping fee. It wasn't until the morning that the owner drove up to collect the $7 or so. His Pinto kicked up some dust, but the air was filled more by clouds of butterflies (top), which either had hatched overnight or were simply more active in the morning. Before we got going for the day, we headed back into town to fuel up. Our car tank was still pretty full, so we didn't need to stop at the makeshift gas station (bottom left). But our human tanks were pretty empty after the not-very-filling lobster burritos; we were soon bloated on tacos of birria and the biggest chile rellenos ever (bottom right).
Cataviña and the campground were in the middle of the Valle de los Cirios (left), a federally protected ecological area that covers 35 percent of Baja California Norte state. The government is trying to encourage ecotourism in the area in order to protect unique species of insects, birds, and plants that thrive in the area. The valley is named after the Cirio columnaris, also known as Boojum (from Lewis Carroll's poem "The Hunting of the Snark") trees, a more fitting name for the fantastical Seuss-like stalks (right).
After a lot of cirios, rocks, and sand, we finally arrived in Bahía de los Ángeles. We checked out a few camping areas before we settled on Campo Archelón, mainly because of its ambiance and attitude. The palapa-covered stone huts were once used by sea-turtle researchers (top left); technically, we didn't even need a tent, as the camp provides cots if you just want to sleep in the open air. Of course, the location wasn't so bad either; it was less than 20 feet from our tent to the water (top right). In the morning, we could crawl out of our sleeping bags and into a borrowed kayak for a quick paddle (bottom left), and in the evening, we could watch the sun set from the fire pit right outside our hut (bottom right).
With few other humans around, it was nice to be able to focus on the animals. Apparently, whales come through the "Canal de Ballenas," a deep channel close to in-sight Isla Ángel de la Guardia, but we were content to watch the feeding frenzy of fish and fowl every morning (left). We were not so happy to see a scorpion about to feed on TJ's leg. Usually, we're not one to kill animals, but not knowing if it was dangerous, we couldn't risk a bite to ourselves or Sage, so it became a part of our dirt floor (right). As it turns out, I think the creature was a bark scorpion, which is considered life-threatening, so I feel even less guilty about it getting smooshed.
It was tempting to just lounge by the beach, and we did, but we also ventured to the north and south of the bay. To the north, we headed into the La Gringa property (left), an ultra-primitive camping area (trash cans only). We snorkeled off the beach there (right) and saw the same kinds of colorful reef fish as back on our beach but in bigger numbers. Plus, I'm pretty sure I saw an octopus hiding out under a rock, but after our scorpion encounter, I wasn't about to tempt fate and antagonize it.
To the south, after bouncing along rocky, rutted roads, we helped dig out an American couple whose car had become stuck in mud left from earlier rains. We chose to turn around ourselves, and they directed us to a garden of saguaros, which were just as tall but even more dense than the area in San Felipe near the Valle de los Gigantes.
After two nights in near-solitary paradise, we started our return trip. We stopped for one last look at the bay and Isla Ángel de la Guardia before we headed into desolate but beautiful Parque Natural de Desierto Central de Baja California, with the intention of leaving the hot coast for the cool mountains of Sierra San Pedro Mártir.
 
Once again, we didn't make quick time like we had hoped, so we had to stop for a night in San Quintín, which leaves little to be desired, according to our guidebooks. Much to our delight, we ended up at El Pabellón campground, whose RV sites were just over high dunes from the sandiest, whitest beach I've seen in Baja.
Apparently, the park had once been quite popular -- especially for caravaners following the whale trail, as indicated by the ballena skeleton at the entrance (left) -- but only us and another brave soul were braving the chilly winds on a cloudy, misty night. The next morning, before climbing into the hills, we stopped to check out the Old Mill, an institution for sport fishermen; however, the boats harbored in the inlet were empty, and only one man was fishing, with a unpoled line (right).
We got up the to the highest mountain range in Baja California just after the Observatorio Astronómico Nacional had closed to visitors for the day. The observatory moved three times before settling in the state, which has proven to be the best in terms of high astronomical alignment and low light pollution; it now has three telescopes on the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México (UNAM) grounds.
The Parque Nacional San Pedro Mártir was as close to a U.S. state or national park as I've found in Mexico. There was a ranger station and interpretive center, with even a ropes course; the trails were well-marked, and the campsites were well-maintained. It was a shame that more people weren't taking advantage of its offerings, including us -- we had time for only a short walk in the morning before we had to head back home.
The trip was one of extremes, from low to high ground, from hot to cold climes. And TJ went to extremes in terms of his campfire cooking, too. Sadly, even though Bahía de los Ángeles is known for its deep-sea fishing, the only seafood we could dig up was some frozen shrimp. However, they were perfectly meaty for skewers (left), and we even had enough left over to turn them into shrimp tostadas the second night (right). In San Quintín, we didn't land any of its famous smoked clams, but TJ found some raw ones, which cooked up into a hearty soup (bottom).
 
Of course, a good road trip requires some good street eats. Besides the lobster burritos, we packed up some tortas, and some advice, from a highway-side shack near the turnoff to San Pedro Mártir (left). And in the middle of the desert between Cataviña and El Rosario, we sustained ourselves with some authentic machaca burritos (right). 
  
All in all, we were well-fed by the trip, both in terms of actual sustenance and the spiritual kind. It was nice to be reminded that there's more than one temperature to Mexico, even within a third of a of peninsula that makes up less than a third of the country.