Once more, we spent the morning by the pool. The ocean here is gorgeous. The beaches that face directly out to sea are dangerous, with strong undertows and big waves. But everywhere there are coves with protected sandy beaches. The water, though, at this time of year, is a bit chilly, and snorkeling is best done from boats over the reefs.

We drove over to Las Ventanas for lunch. This is the most expensive resort here. We had a delicious lunch of a great assortment of breads, wonderful salmon carpaccio with pistachio nuts, black bean soup with a decorative sour cream pattern on top, and a mushroom tartelet that was overdone.

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Here are eight reasons not to stay at Las Ventanas:

1. It's not that pretty. In an effort to be classy, they have opted for stark white desert simplicity.
2. It's too expensive. Lunch was $75.
3. It's too pretentious. Carol put her handbag down beside her on the ground at the table, and staff rushed over with a stool to put it on (a three-legged stool...not merda).
4. No goyim.
5. Staff are too obsequious. They won't answer you in Spanish, even if you speak to them in Spanish. So I ordered in Yiddish. And they understood it.
6. The chaises at the pool lie right on the ground, with no legs. If you lie down on one, you will require a pool boy to help pull you up.
7. If you do lie down on a chaise, you will look to your right, and next to you will be Harvey Weinstein of Miramax.
8. If I tell you this is the place for you, I am insulting you.

Friday night was Fiesta Night at Palmilla, with vendors lined up at tables at the entranceway.

So we fled into San José del Cabo for dinner at Fandango, a restaurant run by a woman from Seattle. We wandered through the narrow streets trying to find the place. No one in town had ever heard of it. No one knew the street by name--even the police. Shopkeepers tried to draw us in, singing snatches of songs:

We all leev in a jello submarine,
A jello submarine,
A jello submarine.