To Share Time...or Not To Share Time....

Pretty much everyone knows that when you go to a popular resort area in Mexico, you will be subject to any number of creative and persistent sales pitches. For everything. From beach vendors selling clothing, toys, trinkets, etc. (often made in the very Mexican location of CHINA...) to the onslaught of real estate moguls hiding in every taxicab line at the airport...one needs to practice the finer art of the words "NO GRACIAS" before you depart the plane.

We're pretty committed to riding to the hotel in a sales-pitch-free taxi, after we fell for the ride-along timeshare salesperson deal in Mazatlan. However we keep hearing from various sources, both known to us and online, that listening to the pitch at the resort is worth the pain and torture of having to repeatedly refuse to cough up thousands of dollars on the spot. We've heard and read you can invest anywhere from 1-3 hours getting pitched to and in exchange you get a few hundred dollars off your beer bill (yes, our beer bill will likely be in the hundreds), or tickets to a surfing class, or some other such loot.

So what's the real story? Do we give up a precious few hours of our deck chair dozing time to endure this? I happen to suck at being aggressive about "no" but I am counting on the fact that if we do decide to succumb, Dan will pull out his grouchy Irishman.

Timeshare sales experienced people, do tell....what's the real deal?

The Countdown Continues

Don't tell our bosses, but we are kind of obsessed. Especially Dan. We have live webcams open all day long to shots of the beach from various hotels, and look what I managed to capture on the countdown google widget:

Can't wait till it's all 1's....

25:18:04

Days-hours-minutes till we board a plane for sunnier places. We're headed to Los Cabos - Cabo San Lucas for 7 days and San Jose del Cabo for 3.

Currently the plan is to arrive in Mexico, get through immigration, get a Timeshare-Salespitch-Free taxi to the first hotel (Pueblo Bonito Sunset Beach), check in, remove the heftier items of clothing (hush, this will be a clean blog I promise), and find a deck chair within shouting distance of the bar. If we accomplish nothing beyond that, the trip will still be complete.

The purpose of blogging this whole deal is, well, to distract ourselves from the millions and millions of seconds that remain until we leave. Chances are good that I'll write plenty leading up to the magical July 10, and then I might go a little quiet for a few days. I'll be busy. Shouting at the bartender.