On Tuesday morning, Carol gave her paper at the conference, "Anna Nicole Smith and Anna Grossman Sherman: A Dialogue on Jewish Moral Education." It was received with enthusiatic plaudits. We flew out of the hotel to catch a noon flight on Alaska to Cabo. Takeoff was a comedy of errors. Everything was going wrong. Memories of Alaska Airlines planes falling into the ocean began to haunt us. At least we had the exit row, with lots of legroom. While stuck on the runway for an interminable time, a stewardess lost it, and started yelling at a lesbian couple with a baby seated in front of us that they would have to move their baby seat to another row. She was so loud, imperious, and rude, that we asked her to back off, lower her voice, and keep her cool. She then turned on us, telling us that we didn't need to tell her how to do her job. A mistake, Gretchen! You have fucked with Farklempt! You are getting a letter.

In planning our trip West, we looked for somewhere in the sun for a few days. The most strategic place seemed to be Cabo San Lucas. We had been twice before. The first time, twenty years ago, it was totally undeveloped with only a couple of hotels, a dirt road, and one telephone in the town, a pay phone with a line in front of it in the village square. The second time we went, with the kids, they were selling time shares, and high rise hotels were going up. We knew that this time, it would be looking like Cancun, so we chose a luxury resort just out of town on the beach, the Pamilla Resort & Spa. The price was right for a package from Expedia.com. After making the reservation, I wrote to Sr. Gonzalo Gonzalez-Franyutti, the General Manager of the hotel, informing him of our arrival, enclosing in the letter my business card as Food and Travel Editor of The Farklempt Page.

What a change at the Los Cabos airport, with a new terminal, an expeditious zip through immigracion with four lanes, and an instantaneous pickup of a brand-new Nissan Platina from Hertz. All of this is a far cry from the dusty unpaved thatched hut that they called a terminal 20 years ago, and the expensive car rentals of ancient Mexican VW Beetles. Now there is a straight high-speed toll road between the airport and Cabo San Lucas--no more curvas peligrosas.

And what a change in Cabo San Lucas! Wall to wall hotels along the beach, tacky shops and bars. A nightmare beyond what we expected. But the Palmilla is unchanged. It's surrounded by new condos surrounding its 27-hole Jack Nicklaus designed golf course ($300/round), but on the beach, it sits quiet and alone, elegant old style Mexico, unhurried, hardly anyone in sight, except staff, who magically appear to anticipate your every wish. The desk clerk welcomed us by name, and guided us to sofas where he served us margaritas and checked us in. He told us that Señor Franyutti had given us an upgrade. When we got to our room, it was clear that Sr. Franyutti had gone all out. It was a huge suite, with a balcony looking out on the ocean, the waves crashing on the rocks just outside.

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The bathroom had a two-person shower. Free internet access, cable TV with pay channels, gorgeous manicured grounds. A plate of fruit awaited us on the table, along with robes and slippers for both of us.

We went to La Paloma, the hotel's restaurant for dinner. Although it's a gorgeous outdoor setting, the food was quite ordinary and overpriced. No more of la caille that Andy had years ago here. Wine was out of sight--a bottle of Fetzer Chardonnay was $48. Brunello di Montalcino was $158. We had a bottle of Mexican Chenin Blanc that wasn't bad. Bread is never good here. We split a decent Caesar. Carol had a filet of snapper that was overpowered by a heavy chili sauce, and I had a risotto with seafood that was overcooked. Service, however, was superb, as the restaurant (and the hotel, for that matter) seemed to be almost empty.

In the morning, we awoke to a gorgeous view of the ocean and had a continental breakfast in the room.

We hung out at the warm infinity pool, caught some rays, and drove into San José del Cabo.

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We had lunch at Damiana, a lovely courtyard restaurant--guacamole, salsa, and chips, a chayote salad, and some baked mushrooms on tortillas.

Then we shopped for some vanilla (very cheap here), some Damiana liqueur for Jonathan, and some clothes for Josie. The town was just about empty, as was our hotel. There were at most twenty people at the pool.

In the evening, we drove into Cabo San Lucas and dinner at Mi Casa. Coming into Cabo San Lucas at night is terrifying. Gone are the days of the quiet Hotel Solmar and breakfast at Señor Frog's. The town has become huge. A four-lane high speed road goes up and down the peninsula, leading into the most crowded, tackiest town you ever saw. Worse than Cancun! Bars like The Giggling Marlin, The Shrimp Factory, Squid Roe, all offering bad food and lots of beer. Mi Casa was autentico, with real Mexican food. But, why do I always forget? I hate Mexican food. I do like ceviche, guacamole, and chips, but that's about it. I also like goat, but no self-respecting restaurant will serve it here, since they regard it as food for peasants. We split a decent ceviche, and then a nice red snapper with 3 dipping sauces and Chicken mole poblano. A flan for dessert. Eh.