Throwback to 20 years ago – ok, maybe 30… what was living in Cabo like? I can tell you.
Camping on the East Cape and getting blindsided by tropical storms or hurricanes before there was internet to tell us they were coming… living off of beans, tortillas, cereal and boxed milk before most markets had refrigeration… I was 7, my sister was 6, and my mom wouldn’t buy anything perishable in fear we would get sick. Oh also, peanut butter. I was so sick of peanut butter. That’s all my mom would give us in the beginning. She brought down a giant tub of American peanut butter from Price Club. And a giant tub of powdered American Gatorade (random?) … it was survival mode.
The summer of 1991 the tropical rains were persistent, and the desert was green; it was humid, hot, exciting… different. We would ride our bikes with my mom to the municipal market for groceries (which by the way is still the best place for produce, meats, fish, and mouthwatering traditional Mexican food) – at the municipal market we would visit the vegetable stands, the meat and cheese monger, and of course, the fish guy. Dad fished every week though, so it was rare to buy fish from the market in those days.
We would venture to far off markets to get the freshest tortillas and my Dad would visit the soda factory once a week with our empty glass bottles to refill our sodas: real Mexican coke, sprite, squirt, strawberry and orange soda. And of course, he would get his case of pacificos.
The abundance of fresh fruit everywhere was what I remember most about the beginning of life here in Cabo. And now looking back, maybe that’s why we stayed so healthy?? Living off fruit from the land: bananas, mangos, papayas, guavas, tamarindo, oranges, grapefruits, cactus fruit… beans, rice, tortillas, fish… all the best foods. Eventually my dad would squeeze fresh orange juice every morning and he would make fresh fruit smoothies before school. It was like fruit Disneyland – just not as expensive and a lot more tropical. Not that Cabo was very tropical back then, it was still a desert. The first year or two were greener than it is now. There were parrots still flying around wild, and iguanas, scorpions, geckos, cows, goats and donkeys always visiting the yard and crossing the roads… and most of that is still the same. All except the parrots.
There was a little taco stand that we started going to in our neighborhood in Magisterial called ‘Tacos El Indio’, where they served carne asada tacos and papas rellenas (stuffed baked potatoes). That was our favorite dining out experience when we weren’t at home eating beans and rice and occasionally fish too. Or cereal. It was sooooooooooooo delicious. I loved the frijoles charros. I know, I know… more beans, but what can I say? I was born to love the food here. Beans, tortillas, salsas, tacos… what’s not to love?
You are probably thinking, wow these girls grew up in paradise, what a life! Well, yes, we did. But it was also the hardest and most challenging experience in the world at first, something unheard of. We didn’t speak the language and were tossed into a strict Catholic school almost right away.
I’ll never forget the first day of school for my sister in second grade. Everyone stared at her, talking presumably about her, yet she couldn’t understand anything. There was laughter, she was embarrassed. She pulled her backpack into her lap and started pretending to look for something, slowly sticking her head further and further into the backpack in an effort to hide. The laughter grew – what was she doing? She basically dumped out her backpack and put it over her head. The ‘Madre’ (or Nun, in English) came and got me from the other classroom to check on her and I came into the classroom and she still had her mochila over her head. By this time, she was giggling a little and so were her classmates, I knew then she was fine. More than fine. My sister has an innocent sunshine in her and makes friends everywhere she goes… so naturally she was okay after a few minutes of initial torture – in the end, they all laughed about it together and she managed to be ok on her own with her new friends.
Jump to: my parents at home. What were they thinking? Moving to Mexico in 1990? With very little in their pockets, maybe $500 for a place to live… but the motivation of being in this new transitional world was enough to encourage the building we all did together as a family. We helped each other survive and be happy when times were new and rough. During this time we learned that being a guest in this wonderful country had so many benefits, and it made us even more excited to become established permanently.
The hardest and most devastating thing for my parents moving to a new country and starting a new life was changing tradition. My mother, who loves tradition, didn’t realize how many things would change when moving to Mexico. When the first Thanksgiving in Mexico rolled around, tradition was out the window when my Dad went fishing and brought home a shark… I just remember her face when she realized she wouldn’t have a turkey Thanksgiving like back home – my sister and me? We were stoked! How cool!!! A fresh fish BBQ, friends and family. It was a blast.
By then we had met a few friends around the neighborhood, and it was the most amazing first year (in my little mind) because they seemed happy. Despite all the newness.
Next came Christmas. My mom knew at this point things were not the same anymore. But I think deep down she still thought Christmas was Christmas and you always have a tree. So, when my Dad showed up with a Dr. Seuss looking flower/stalk/THING that was spray painted gold, or maybe silver, and called in a Mexican Christmas tree, she lost it. Tears, fear, loss, and maybe even hope. She did not let him bring it into the house. He was sent back out to find something resembling a pine tree. He came home with fern like shrub/tree from the local vivero – mom could work with this.
It was all new and exciting! I’ll never forget her tears when she didn’t have a Christmas tree, but we adapted. The moments we had together as a family were so unique and inspiring. She was sad, a new world was difficult – she focused on us girls – my sister and I were happy… it was fun!!! Cactus Christmas, 90-degree beach Christmas, shark for Thanksgiving…. Was this a movie??
My parents were in a new world of unimaginable exploration and adventure. In my mind I never knew that this was not how life really was. Like real life, in the United States, it never crossed my mind that what we had here was so different and unique. Every week we would pack up the VW Thing with beach gear and find a new untouched location. Or my parents would pack up the 1972 VW ‘Combi’ – a custom Westfalia camper my Dad bought for $200 bucks when we first moved here, (yes that really happened). We would set off to find the best surf spot and set up camp.
Sometimes Dad would just take us little girls with him on his surf trips. I remember collecting rocks and seashells and storing them in his old cigar box. Then my sister and I would find a spot to bury our treasure and then we would make a map with trails and landmarks. When we got home, we would burn the edges of the paper to make it look like pirate paper, and the next time we would explore that beach we would go searching for our buried treasure. Now looking back on these memories, I realized the searching for treasure actually happened once or twice… My Dad met some people who needed help looking for their buried ‘treasure’ on the Pacific Side near Todos Santos. He took us with them, and we searched for treasure. Normal, right?
Or not? What was it really????? Money? Drugs? As an adult it all looks so different. We’ll never know what was really buried on that beach. (Or that one time a guy showed up at our house in the middle of the night to dig something out of our cactus garden……..)
This was our life every day for years. Surfing, fishing, exploring, learning Spanish, making friends, building a home… my Dad and his buddy Brian would go diving right below the house and bring home a cooler of oysters that they would break open over cinder blocks in the back yard and we would all have fresh oysters for dinner. On any random night of the week. Who does that?? We did.
My memories of this time are so wonderful, challenging too – I learned so much. I was looking after my sister as much as possible. It made me feel older and more aware of what was going on and therefore I think I was taking everything in. Part of me always wants to go back to that time. Part of me loves the current modern times but in reality, take me back to cactus flowers, surfing for Christmas, and eating fish every week… that is a dream come true to me. Always has been, always will be. It’s hard to meet people who understand the lifestyle here, unless for some unforeseen destiny they experience a similar childhood and can understand the need for living in this amazing place we call home.
So, there you have it, life in the beginning as we knew it, from the perspective of a 7-year-old going on 37.
There are so many more memories to come!!! Please stay tuned for more about life in Cabo in the early days, and now, from the Davis Sisters.
So many great memories you guys are bringing back!