This weekend was all about a house. The gorgeous, Spanish-style, 4000 square foot Casa Los Suenos. We arrived on Friday afternoon around 2:15pm. It was everything we imagined and more.
I was a little nervous after our last adventure renting a house in Rosarito when we went with one of my best friends, Jocelyn. The owner told me to pull up to the gated community and let the security guard know who I was and he would let me in. To let me in, he had to go to all of the trouble of lowering a metal chain so I could drive over it. Sure it works as well as the fancy automatic wood bar, but just doesn’t have that same feeling of accomplishment of getting through the gate. I hope if I get to Heaven, Saint Peter won’t just lower the chain so I can drive my wheelchair over. With my luck, the tire would get stuck and I’d get hurled out of my chair with a face full of Heaven’s dirt. I wonder if it would be like magical fairy dust instead of the “hay” dirt on the Arroyo horse trails I run on every day. Ok, once a week if I’m lucky, but anyway.
To continue with the Rosarito story, we drove to the house on a dirt path that would have been better suited to a ATV rather than my new Toyota Camry SE. We searching for house number 79 and as we get closer, we realize that were running low on block. The numbers go from 75, 76, 77, and 78 should be the end corner house. I was mortified. I dragged my friend to this dirty development for our resort adventure and got taken by an internet scam. We were going to end up sleeping in the sand at Papas and Beers. Our heart sank as we tried to see if maybe there might be a mistake. Maybe the nine got turned around and 76 was really our beachfront property. Finally, through the trees in the cul-de-sac island, I saw a house, out of order standing on its own. There it was, our number 79. An original nonconformist who provided us a vacation get-away like no other.
So luckily, no hidden secrets with Casa Los Suenos. We saw the pictures and there was no way that a house so decorated with such care for detail could possibly be a scam. From the bougainvilleas framing the italian-style pool to the kitchen that the whole family can be in at the same time and avoid running into each other, everything was perfect. Well at least my husband and I thought so because we got the grand master bedroom. The room itself was larger than any hotel room we could have gotten. The two person shower alone could have been an ideal place to put the queen size air mattress we were going to use for the kids if more people had come. You could still clean up in the footed bathtub encased in another tiled drain. It was like a tub for a tub!
We had no desire to leave the house, although we did on limited occasions. I don’t think I had one good meal, even the “exotic” sliders at Hamburger Mary’s lacked any appeal although they initially intrigued. The house gave us the opportunity to cook most of our meals and eat like a family, which we don’t do very often even though we live 20 minutes (or at least less than an hour) from each other in Los Angeles. Besides giving us too good of an idea of what it’s like to live with two rambunctious kids under five who love getting up at the crack of dawn and screaming at the top of their lungs in glee to be alive. I guess we should all be so lucky. I was a little more enthusiastic around 10am, after my morning cup of tea.
