Day 19 Miles: 53

Making our way northward again, we returned to La Paz for two nights. This time, instead of camping on the playa, we stayed at Campestre Marantha on Highway 1, about 20 minutes north of downtown La Paz. When we drove by the RV park headed south to Cabo San Lucas, I must admit it appeared to me to be another Caca Hole. Upon closer inspection, I was pleasantly surprised. There is a very good coffee house on premises, lots of hot showers, and even a pool.

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Before settling in at the RV park we made our last Wal-Mart stop before the border. This was an important one, as we will be camping at Rancho Sordomudo, a home and school for deaf children, on our last full night in Mexico. On their website they list items of desperate need, and many of us picked up stuff from the list. They are going to get a lots of ketchup and canned corn!

On our first night we were all happy to relax and hang out at “home.” I was invited to a potluck dinner, and then I invited Scots Alan and Debbie over to play Cards Against Humanity. Hearing some of those vulgar cards read with a Scottish accent made me giggle.

On the second day we toured La Paz, which was familiar to me because I accompanied Maria to buy her bus ticket only a week before. Alan and Debbie and their dog Bill and I walked the malecon. As it was a Sunday, many locals were out enjoying their Sunday afternoon. There were also many Mexicans who appeared to be tourists themselves, visiting La Paz for the weekend. There was more brown skin in the souvenir shop than white. Students practicing their English skills stopped us to record interviews on their phones. It was hilarious to watch a young Mexican girl interviewing Alan, both of them speaking heavily-accented English, to the point they could barely understand each other.

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There are many lovely sculptures along the malecon in La Paz, but my favorite is an old, leathery man with a paper boat around his waist. Here is the poem written by the sculpture:

I have a paper boat
It’s made from a page
On which I have written my dreams
It has neither anchors, nor mooring ropes
I want to sail in it
On the seven seas; in the eighth
Where I know I will run aground in the port of my desires
… Has someone ever seen the light shining from his lighthouse?

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