Baja Blues

In Mexico recently to attend a wedding, my first impression was the impossibility of the landscape to support the amount of life and rampant development occurring upon it. Water has to be trucked into this place, by a daily procession of (I'm guessing) scores of tanker trucks...I didn't get a precise count. In conversation with a wedding guest, I learned this comes from a regional aquifer that is being depleted faster than it is replenished. Great.

The arroyos, visible from the flight to San Jose del Cabo, were broad and dusty. Rain comes...when? How often? "But they have plans to build a desalination plant," wedding guest said.

Meanwhile, all these interlopers and locals depend on water trucks to drink, cook, shower, wash dishes and clothes, and fill pools. And the uber-wealthy water their palms and tropical gardens as well. There is not a native tree in sight.

Every empty lot is for sale, half-built condo complexes dot the landscape, backhoes flatten hilltops for new dream homes, the hip real estate office shack sits prominently between surf school shacks on the beach.

This Pacific Ocean rimmed desert is where former Airbnb exec Chip Conley decided to locate his Modern Elder Academy, a lavishly landscaped and watered big-ticket retreat center "helping Silicon Valley executives and others tackle their midlife crises" and likely using a lion's share of local resources.

Hey, might I suggest that we need Modern Elders with wisdom and sensitivity around environmental crises and structures of privilege? Just a thought. I'm all for mental health care, but the contradictions here are suffocating. Is that dust or disgust in my throat?

And I haven't even gotten to the racial critique. This Mad Max apocalyptic pot-holed dirt road dustbowl is the rich white escapist's cheap, seemingly lawless, slumming paradise. Brown-skinned people in this place work in service roles; white people shop in fancy health food stores, take surfing lessons, eat in tiki bars with hamburger menus, and drive pricey dune buggies.

At this wedding, I also learned for the first time about the "trash the dress" trend--a day-after wedding photo shoot in which the bride (and groom) "may effectively 'trash' the dress in the process by getting it wet, dirty, or, in extreme circumstances, tearing, cutting, or destroying the garment" (wiki).

In other words, the $X,000 wedding dress is essentially destroyed in order to get some irreverent glam pics for your socials. (One bride in Montreal actually died getting these photos!)

The Baja bride told me it took a lot of convincing by her mother to buy a designer wedding dress. It didn't "align with her value system" to spend so much money on a one-day outfit, but she relented for such a special occasion (which also included a 6-man paparazzi crew shooting still, video, and drone footage of the wedding and day-after dress trashing).

What also didn't align with her value system was the idea of donating her worn-once dress to a local bride who might not be able to afford a wedding dress(!?). The wealth disparity in this place is glaring; impoverished local living conditions are evident all around.

Where is the value in trashing a high quality garment that could bring joy to another bride just for one more glam shot of yourself? This is the epitome of unexamined privilege.

Value systems. We only see what we can (or want to) see, right? And sometimes, we're just not able to see the crises and contradictions that are staring us in the face. We are limited by our own subjectivity; it can be really hard to see outside of that frame.

Without certain eye-opening life lessons and experiences, I might be right there with the ex-pats who think this drought-plagued Mexican beach village is the most amazing place. Many seem tempted by the cheap "investment" properties and boho lifestyle without seeing the social and environmental costs.

In truth, the pristine Pacific Ocean and playa were glorious and reason enough to fall in love with Baja. But the rest I just can't unsee.