Our last day in Cabo started out extremely relaxing, and ended on quite the interesting note. We took the school bus into downtown San Jose del Cabo, and got settled in for our 10am booking with Six Senses Spa, located in Tropicana Inn. This hotel was not as big as our resort, but everything was extremely exotic and intricate. Brightly colored parrots peered out from their golden cast cages over the pool, while unique stone statues were artfully placed around the facilities. At 10, Rossy came to find us and ushered us into our room. The room was also decorated with extreme detail, from aromatic candles, artfully selected buddha paintings, to pretty green flowers in our bathrobe. Everything came together to created the perfect environment of zen.
Farrah opted for the Honey Massage, and I opted for the Mango and Mandarin. Tripadvisor’s raving reviews were certainly spot on with the massage quality, as this massage might have been my most relaxing massage yet. However, the reviews are also quite outdated in terms of pricing – as of August 2012 the prices have doubled from 30 USD per 50 minutes to around 60-80, depending on the service. They are comparable to US prices, but the extreme attention to detail and utmost concern for spiritual relaxation is almost unparalleled.
We were running a bit behind schedule, so I asked Tropicana to call us a taxi directly to rush us to the airport. We made a mad dash to the airport, and arrived about an hour before our flight. Here’s when sh*t went down. The hotel charges 200 pesos, which is about 15 USD for taxi transportation to the airport. We only had a 20 dollar bill, so we gave that to him. He blocked the door and asked for 30 USD. WTF. We argue with him and tell him to do the conversion in his mind. His English was nonexistent and our Spanish was minimal. We hopped out of the car while continuing our old argument, and the Security Officer that came up was no help with his lack of English. I dragged our luggages out of the back while he vehemently demanded for 10 more USD. It was ridiculous. Thankfully, another Mexican guy came by and served as our interpreter. By this time, we were pretty riled up and time was ticking. After a few more minutes of back-and-forth, Farrah and I huffed and puffed, and left to catch our plane with his death glare boring into the back of our heads.
Check-in was smooth and we chilled in the Cabo airport’s extremely tiny terminal, snacking on Mexican hot cheetos. Tick Tock. Boarding time came and passed. The earlier flight to LA was still boarding after what seemed like eternity. Suddenly, Farrah heard something over the intercom. Sensing something was off, I took another look at our boarding pass and realized we were waiting at the wrong gate! Sh*t!! We made a mad dash for it. Thankfully, we made final call. We dragged our luggage and ran on the tarmac, up the rank, and then slinked through the plane in shame as two of the last passengers to board.
Phew. Cabo, it’s been quite a ride. 🙂