After a long and hot drive, we struggled to find Rancho Costa, the quiet campground [with a swimming pool and internet] recommended by Gloria Brandt, the owner of our house in Bahia Kino. Her sparse directions were “across the arroyo, and behind the cemetery.” Confused wonderings through narrow colonial streets caused Philomena to over heat and Dave also, saying only: “You drive.” We had crossed the arroyo once (the road that goes right through the river) and thought “surely this can’t be the way.” Circling back, we managed – with sign language and stumbling Spanish – to decipher that, in fact, we had been going the right way. Road signs, such that they are, confirmed we were getting closer. Eventually, we breathed a huge sigh of relief, turning off the hot engine in the resort-like – albeit slightly run down – Rancho Costa RV Park on the edge of town. Surrounded by flowering shrubs and tall palm trees, this is our lovely home for the next four days.