Within the first five days of my one-week stay in Todos Santos, on the Pacific coast of Baja California, I held deep personal conversations with four different women. And a total stranger bought my lunch because I was short of pesos.

What is it, I wondered, about this place that allows such easy intimacy? The tiny town is populated by Mexican fishermen, farmers, small-businessmen and foreign expatriates and offers art galleries and artists, excellent dining, a range of accommodations and a degree of instant friendship unknown north of the border. Nearby white sand beaches edging the dun-colored desert and wild and colorful Mexican adobe architecture add to its charm.

Todos Santos is set in a green oasis in the Sonoran Desert just above an hour by car north of its richer resort relative, Cabo San Lucas. It's worth the dusty drive from the Cabo airport, as either an interesting day trip or a short stay to savor the town's particular ambiance. The town seems to pop up out of the desert landscape of jojoba bushes and calderon cacti. Tall Washingtonian palms and green organic farms beckon from a fold in the desert's hills. Before you realize it, you are driving along the wide sandy street that goes through the town's center and continues up to La Paz on the Gulf of California.

Our first guide was Tommy Lewis, my friend Gail's ex-husband and a lifetime surfer dude and board shaper of local renown. Tommy barely gave us time to get a drink of water before we were off to the fisherman's beach and a private palapa (any structure built with a traditional fan-palm-frond roof), built by an anonymous millionaire as a beach-party retreat. We drove to Punta de Lobos, a long white sand beach with pangas, local fishing boats, drawn up on the sand and an orange shrine on the nearby hill. The locals, fishing from the shoreline, barely gave us a glance, but frigate birds swooped overhead and a school of mackerel just offshore turned the water deep blue and frothy. The palapa soared three stories with a view of miles of sandy coastline and soft blue sea; a perfect place from which to watch California grey whales along the coast.

Back in town, I settled into my tree-top casita at Las Palmas Casitas, a meditation and yoga retreat. My one-room studio with kitchen and bath provided an overview of well-tended gardens and yet another palapa, the outdoor yoga studio of Janel Beeman, my host. Beeman, an expat American, has converted a forlorn empty lot into three serene, individual rentals. The centerpiece is a fountain that lures hummingbirds to its sparkling waters and the wood-floored palapa, where she conducts free Saturday yoga sessions for her guests.

She also leads free nature hikes and is a good source of local knowledge, sharing some juicy stories and becoming my first intimate. She gave me a copy of the free El Calendario de Todos Santos, an indispensable compendium of low-key ads, maps and town social news, where I read about a fund-raiser for the local animal refuge and efforts to keep people from driving on the beaches in order to protect the sea turtles.

SHADE AND SALSA

Walking to the town center, I discovered two main streets of restaurants, art galleries, craft shops, clothing and blanket stores, Mexican silver, glassware and — of course — sombreros. The hand-embroidered blouses and long lacy white dresses are beautiful and a good buy. At the well-stocked bookstore, I got into a conversation with a Colombian woman, and seeking shade at a nearby restaurant, fell into my second intimate friendship over a glass of fresh lemonade.

The restaurant, Fondo El Zaguan, a narrow outdoor court serving fresh fish, (which the fishermen bring in daily from Punta de Lobos), shrimp and organic salads, became my lunch place of choice — partly because it was cool and comfortable, and the waitress tolerated my baby Spanish and partly because the food was fresh and delicious. It was here that an American lady violinist and writer, who I chatted with briefly, paid for my lunch because I happened to mention I was short of cash.

Streetside stands serve inexpensive fresh tacos, a handful of meat or fish on a flat tortilla. The accompanying salsas are usually hot enough to send you flying. All restaurants serve tortilla chips and fresh mild salsa as soon as you sit down, a civilized nicety. It was a pleasure to eat tortillas that wouldn't last a century, made with water and cornmeal and little else.

ART FOR ALL

Resting in the town's plaza across from the church, I watched a funeral procession walk past. Grieving women followed the coffin, with the men, who were looking around and laughing, bunched behind them. Alfonso, an engaging seventh-grader, came up while I was sketching an astonishing building painted half brilliant pink and blue and half green and gold, and we limped along in my high school Spanish. He politely corrected my pronouns.

Down the main street is the Centro Cultural "Prof. Nestor," a combination cultural center, museum and library. A long cool white corridor is flanked by billboard-size posters of poetry by famous Latin poets, and side galleries hold a helter-skelter collection of local photographs. The photos had exquisitely tactful captions, such as, "The lovely daughter of _____ on the occasion of her happy wedding to the dignified and distinguished ____" under a photo of a miserable-looking, stiff couple. Hundreds of photographs offer an unadorned history of the town, as well as insight into the manners of its inhabitants, while the art gallery lumps together just about anything anyone ever donated, including some really awful work next to some rather fine things. In the large courtyard is an exhibit of two traditional dwellings made of strong and flexible palo da arco twigs, which are still used for walls and fences, providing shelter while letting in light and air.

My second domicile, Las Casitas Art Glass Studio, is a compound of bed-and-breakfast rentals presided over by Wendy Faith, a glass artist from Canada, who became my fourth intimate. We discussed love and marriage in an outdoor courtyard over her gorgeously prepared breakfasts of fresh fruit, eggs, salmon chorizo and tortillas, served — in the Mexican manner — "any time between 8 and 11 that suits your fancy."

I wandered into Brilante, an upscale shop selling quality recreations of silver work originally made by Victoria Brilante in Taxco during the 1940s. Victoria was a respected silversmith and was commissioned to create an original necklace for Eleanor Roosevelt. Gregorio and David Brilanti, her friendly and funny grandsons, run the shop, which sells her Art Deco designs on Mayan and Aztec themes in heavy Mexican silver. They assured me that the earrings I had chosen were "just perfect for you!" Prices range from $50 to $300 — very reasonable for such pieces.

The cathedral-like gallery of Baja artist Gabo reflects his belief that the artist's job is to rise each morning and paint what is original and interesting. He agrees with Picasso that an artist must constantly rediscover themselves, and the high white walls were hung with his paintings in varied styles and on varied subjects. A brilliant orange, yellow and blue courtyard at the far end of the gallery drew me inside to converse with Gabo's wife, Christina Caldera, who summed up the artist's life for me: "It's not ma–ana, its ahora — not tomorrow but today," Christina explainsed "We care about the how, not the how much." It didn't take long before she was my fifth intimate friend.

SUCH A LOVELY PLACE

It was time to check into the famed Hotel California, which, I found out, never had anything to do with the band, the Eagles, despite their famous song. But the 1950s classic hacienda was remodeled by Canadians Debbie and John Stewart, who came, says Debbie, "because somebody had to open up the Hotel California." The Stewarts have transformed it into a virtual museum of Mexican art and a shrine to that luscious deep color that makes Mexican architecture good enough to eat.

Walls of deep blue violet, golden green, glowing orange and deep scarlet; paintings, artifacts, curious furniture, a glistening cobalt blue swimming pool, a fanciful open restaurant and a red velvet tequila bar all provide an atmosphere opulent enough to satisfy the most jaded hedonist. Chef Dany Lamote, who was trained in Belgium, has devised a menu with moderate prices and world-class food. His roasted pear pizza, with fresh basil pesto, pine nuts and gorgonzola cheese, was savory and original, an absolute winner. I loved the Hotel California and would be content to spend months there continuing my quest for intimacy. But it was time to drive back down the dusty road to Cabo and come on home to Lana'i.

Adios, Todos Santos, hasta la vista — see you again.

Traveler and writer Joana Varawa lives on Lana'i.