While hauling ass from Todos Santos over to the Eastern Cape, I stopped down in a squirt of a village in the center of Baja. Dead, smack in the mid of nowhere...it had some special kind of charm to it that literally took my breath away.
Population about 300, cobblestone streets (like 3), and best of all, some funky little European-style coffee-house set back one avenue from the main road. I was smitten the moment I walked in the door and linked up with Veronica, the local who ran the joint. She was adorable - full of zest and life and smiles. She told me how her and her baby moved back home to the village from Tijuana (which is where she learned a bit of English) and she is so happy - unmarried, with her baby and good job near her family in a village she loves. After making me a freakishly good coffee, we walked together to her little house she was trying to fix up and I told her about 4WL. She was delighted at the idea of learning more English and said all the villagers would be as well.
There were a few small artisan set-ups in a nearby house and between those, Veronica, the coffee-house (that makes organic wood-fired pizzas), I was close to sold. Thing is, not everybody can jam to Indo for a month. Most people are scared even. Baja, however...well, that is another story. It's so close and so magical. And, seriously teaching/learning/showing is hard work, but...with a GIANT proper double espresso latte in the morning, well, staying a month is easy as pie.
Plus, I can drive there. I didn't spring the idea of keeping my solar trailer in Veronica's back yard on her just yet - somehow though, I know she'd be game. I love the Mexicans. Was I a bandito Mexican in another life? Like Zorro? Or was he Spanish? Whatever, I just love 'em.