Cabo Day 3

We swim with Dolphins. Karma and the banana hammock.

21.02.2008 26 °C

It was a shaky start to the day. I awoke at 2:00AM with a bit of a hangover and, thanks to the margaritas, cervezas, tequila, sushi, and cigar my mouth tasted like a troop of orcs used it as a latrine. Having some experience with the various symptoms associated with overindulgence I dropped some aspirin and drank a liter of water while I hammered away on the laptop about the events of day two.

This was a day that had been planned during one weekend last October when I turned from the computer to my wife and asked, “How would you feel about swimming with dolphins?” It was a dumb question because my wife is the kind of person that loves all animals without prejudice, dolphins, birds, puppies, rabid hyenas - it really doesn‘t matter.

As we were getting ready to go we discovered that the hot water was not working again. I was not particularly thrilled about the prospect of another cold shower and neither was my wife, so we left for the marina in Cabo San Lucas to see the dolphins unwashed and for me, with the stink of excess oozing from my pores.

The salt water pool is cold so you are given the option of wearing a wetsuit. With our disdain for cold well documented throughout this blog it was a foregone conclusion for us. So, with visions of Jacques Cousteau I charged off to the dressing room and promptly wedged myself into my wet suit…backwards. My wife, always taking the high road, instinctively knew I would do this and was waiting for me at the door to send me back in. Feeling a little dejected, I peeled the wetsuit off. As I slipped the wetsuit on again I could almost hear the theme from National Geographic and, giddy at the prospect of cavorting with dolphins, I prepared to make a grand entrance into the staging area.

Then I looked in the mirror.

When you take a human body that is roughly the same dimensions as that of cartoon character Hank Hill and tightly bind it in 2mm neoprene the result can be startling. Wetsuits apparently expose various physical flaws in ways that even full nudity could not do. It’s as if the wetsuit is announcing to the world, “Hey, check out these love handles” or, “This is where my ass should be” and, my personal favorite, “Well looky here…man parts.”

I was horrified. When I realized that our group consisted of myself and four attractive women I felt sheer terror. And, when I first placed my feet in the pool and felt the cold spread up my legs to my loins I wanted to curl up in the fetal position and wait for a team of psychologists to parachute from the sky.

Funny though, five minutes later I was totally acclimated to the water and we were indeed playing with dolphins. Our group’s dolphin was named Ricardo, a majestic creature and some 500 pounds of grace and beauty. Sometimes he would swim lazily around us, seemingly inviting us stroke him. Other times, on a hand command from a trainer standing on the side of the pool, he would splash us, spit water on us, talk to us, jump over our heads, take us for rides, and kiss. Yes kiss, and he would close his eyes when he did so. And he did all of this despite the amorous affections of another dolphin, Jenny, who kept wondering over and trying to get his attention.

I don’t know if dolphins experience happiness the way we do. I’d like to think so because Ricardo seemed happy and appeared to enjoy the devotion of five bobbing humans. Their amazing intelligence is beyond question, but can they also perceive our feelings toward them? If so, then the question of their happiness is answered because there was no doubt what the five of us were feeling that morning.

After leaving Ricardo, we set out for a stroll around the marina. It is a collection of shops, pubs, restaurants, vendors, and unimaginable wealth in the form of yachts - a stark and depressing contrast to the woman who, while clutching her baby, was selling chewing gum. Naturally, a few timeshare sharks also prowl the area.

From the marina we walked up Medano Beach to the cantinas, the Sand Bar, The Office, and Billygan’s Island where we had a lunch of calamari and a couple of cervezas. This beach area was a hive of activity with water taxis, jet skis, parasailing, vendors, and crowds of sun-worshipping turistas. A busy place despite the fact that there were no cruise ships in port. I guess we’re not the only ones fleeing winter.

It was time for a siesta so we took a cab back to Sunset Beach and slept for three hours. Then, finally, a hot shower. I guess a pump had to be replaced.

We ate dinner at sunset on the balcony at The Bistro where the entertainment, in the form of a server named Abraham, was every bit as good as the food. We had calamari, clam chowder, two entrees of Baja seafood enchaladas, a bottle of Chilean Sauvignon Blanc, one Pacifico cerveza, and an order of flan to go. The price with a 35% tip came to $130 USD. The quality of the food and the service were, again, outstanding. It is going to be tough to go back home.

That night we both dreamt of dolphins.

She almost left me for this guy.