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		Introduction I'm going to try to describe the indescribable, to show the unshowable. It's not that I don't think you're smart enough or sensitive enough to understand. It's just that the experience was so extraordinary that I don't think my words and my pictures are adequate. I'll try though. The trip Having spent the last year travelling back and forth between Portland and Westchester County, New York, the trip to San Diego was a breeze. One plane. Short flight. Easy. We left in the afternoon and got to our destination on the same afternoon. Before dark. Amazing. Okay, maybe only to me. Anyway, we stayed a night in a hotel in old town and met our group in the lobby for the start of our journey. On a bus. Yikes. I knew immediately that the rest of the trip was going to make up for the ease of the first leg of the journey. The bus took us through the border into Tijuana on our way to Ensenada. There's not much to say about the drive between the two cities other than this: in general, American zoning laws are a decidedly good thing. Okay, that's too simple, but the "architecture" surrounding that highway is downright scary. I've probably led a sheltered life. In Ensenada, we drove past the port (past an apparently steroid-engorged cruise ship) and turned into the Mexican Air Force base on the edge of town. Two nice young men with automatic weapons on their backs searched our bags. They left the guns on their backs. The weren't apparently threatened by our four bottles of SPF 45 sunscreen. Okay now take a look at the picture on the right. That's the plane that we boarded once cleared by gun-toting young adults. Thinking back, maybe that's why they had the guns -- to make sure we got on the plane. Strangely, all twenty of us ended up boarding willingly. Huh. I guess we all really wanted to get to San Ignacio.
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