A few years ago, Lee and I did something we had never done before—spent Christmas away from our families. On December 7, we traveled with a small caravan from Yuma Lakes Resort to a sister resort in El Golfo, Mexico. Although the trip covered a mere 100 miles heading south from Yuma, Arizona, we were four hours en route. The two-lane road was hard-surfaced, but under construction in some places. We detoured on a rutted dirt bypass. The landscape stretched for miles with nothing but sand and scrub. To our right, a mountain range stood in the distance. Our wagon master said it began about San Diego and followed the Baja. As we neared El Golfo, more sand dunes cropped up, and in the distance, we could see tidewater from the Sea of Cortez.

The little town of El Golfo is small and appeared to be working on improvements such as street lights and a city park bordered with trees and a sidewalk. But the houses, for the most part, were hovels or shacks, although some looked more prosperous than others. Trash littered the roadways and streets. The constant wind scatters paper and plastic bags throughout the town and onto the beach. We drove through El Golfo’s main asphalt street connected to a sandy road that took us to the gates of the American-owned resort perched at the top of the Gulf of California (Sea of Cortez). We parked right on the beach, but the sea had no waves—just the continuous ebbing of the tide. I missed the ocean’s roar.

Spot and I took walks morning and evening on the beach. The sand stimulated him to run in circles, romp, leap, and flop to his belly as though stalking a prey. Then he jumped up and dug holes until he tired out. He is an adaptable dog. There were no bushes, so Spot simply "marked" every plastic bag on the beach.

The first morning of our stay, a guide from the park led a walking tour to town and to a restaurant for lunch.  Fishermen or fishermen helpers fill most of the jobs in El Golfo. A majority do not even have trailers to launch their boats. At dawn’s early light, we could hear the scrunching sound of boats being dragged by manpower over the sand to the shoreline. We were told that fishermen earn about $600 a year and support wives and several children. The families live in everything from old buses and worn-out RV trailers to shacks with slabs of board or metal for walls. Some of the better houses were constructed from garage doors imported from the United States. Many structures have thatched roofs. I saw one box trailer in which windows and doors had been cut in the sides. The summer temperatures reach 118 degrees. I could not imagine how a family survived in that metal box.

Our guide showed us the nets they use to fish for shrimp and how they pick out each shrimp individually. He said at the end of the day, they might have only an ice chest full of shrimp for all that work. He also said that the town was deserted during the daytime because the fishermen were out, the kids were at school, and the women were busy in their homes.  But at night, the town comes to life!  He told us that at 3:00 a.m. the stores would be packed with people doing their shopping and fishermen buying food to take on their next day’s run. We never ventured downtown in early morning hours, although the guide assured us that El Golfo was safe.

The town was settled in the 1920s and the business buildings are old and run-down.  Many I would not have considered a store if our guide had not told us. He pointed out one very "shacky" building and said amazingly, there was probably $50,000 worth of inventory inside. He took us to Los Conchos, a plain, but very clean restaurant, which quickly became our favorite in town. Owned by a man named Ramon, one of the most prosperous persons in town, he invited guests from our resort back for a “fiesta” later in the week. I ate my first fish taco and it became my choice on his menu. Before returning to our resort, we stopped in a bakery and bought a sack full of cookies and turnovers for $2.20.

We were pleasantly surprised to discover a Christian church service in our resort every Sunday, led by a seasonal American pastor. People from every denomination gathered at the club house. After church, we were invited to join some for a brunch at Los Conchos. The "congregation," as they called themselves, had several projects, one being feeding the poor people in El Golfo. We joined other volunteers to bag flour, rice, and beans for families and small toys, pencils, and coloring books for children on Christmas morning. The woman in charge said she had $600 of donated money yet to spend and she planned to buy soccer balls. Any gifts were more than the children would have had.

Often in the evenings, we went to the club house for karaoke. Lee "wowed" them with his rendition of “Chantilly Lace." A few of the people who participated could sing; some could not. But it didn’t matter. The beer flowed abundantly. Lee and I were possibly the only people in the room with a Pepsi in hand, but there was a lot of laughter. We had fun.

One day flowed into another, and we often forgot whether it was Monday or Wednesday.  Lee packed Christmas movies and we watched in the evenings and played Christmas music throughout the day. I joined an exercise class in the mornings. We often went to parties outside the rigs of our neighbors in the afternoons. Sunrises and sunsets were glorious paintings of coral and lavender streaked with gold. Some afternoons, dolphins played within sight of our motorhome. A horn sounding at the gate alerted us to fresh vegetables for sale on certain days. We ordered bakery bread that arrived still warm from the oven. Every Saturday, a local woman stood at the gate with homemade tamales. They sold fast!

Many residents in the park decorated their rigs with Christmas lights and small trees in the windows. On Christmas Eve, we had a church service, and then went caroling throughout the park. Christmas Dinner happened at 3:00 on Christmas Day in the beautifully decorated clubhouse. The park provided ham, and each person brought a covered dish for a small group at assigned tables.

We enjoyed our month in Mexico. It was quite a different Christmas for us; yet Christmas, we believe is in our hearts. So no matter where we are or what traditions we experience, the reason for celebration is, for Lee and me, the birthday of Jesus Christ. We will always remember the friends we made, the gracious people of El Golfo, and the beauty of the Sea of Cortez in December.