floorpie

Roadtrip Travelogue, Part II

3.17.03
Still in la Fonda…
Having seen Rosarito, and its dirtiness, we opt to stay in la Fonda, assuming Ensenada to be largely the same. We are somewhat enamored with our chilly room with the slow drains that nevertheless continues to tantalize with its amazing and romantic views of el Sur Pacifico.

Ensenada is a bustling port town, part industrial, part slum, part tourist, all “depressed”. There are not many signs of wealth here, which is its charm, and I am glad that I have an already beat-up pick-up truck to take into Baja. I blend in like a local. Driving through the main part of the city, I count some half dozen auto-parts stores. This is, possibly, a good sign (indicating modern convenience), but then possibly a bad one (indicating the obvious). Do they need all of these stores, and if so, what is going to happen to my truck?

The few signs of affluence are regrettably in the form of McDonald’s Burger King, and KFC, all with Playlands bigger than I’ve had experience with; and all in blazing stark contrast to their soiled surroundings.

We make our way through the town and the surrounding countryside (reminiscent of what I think of Vietnam… green everywhere, low trees, hovels and sad farmland) to La Bufadora, the northern peninsula�s main claim to fame.

Tricked into parking at the head of the calle, we are subjected to a walk through the knick-knack quarter with shouts of “Come in, Amigos, give me a chance to rip you off! Let me sell you something you don’t need!” before we make it to La Bufadora., a natural blowhole in the side of a cliff that spews water hundreds of feet into the air in response to the waves. It is beautiful. It is also somewhat sad, this being the best Baja Norte has to offer, other than the surf spots and discotecas, that is.

Aterwards, back into Ensenada in search of the best Margarita in town. While there, President Bush comes on the television to tell the world he is taking the US to war. The few gringos in the bar all crowd around the television while the native Mexicans show no interest. This is another world.

Well, no one’s obviously interested in the travelogue, so perhaps something with a little more mass appeal? How about I was just at the beach and saw Owen Wilson and Ben Stiller shooting scenes for Starsky & Hutch? Ah, L.A….

If only it coulda been Snoop Dogg playing Huggy Bear, instead…

Roadtrip Travelogue, Part I

A while ago, I went on a road-trip through Baja. I didn’t mention it at the time, but I had been writing a little travelogue along the way with the intention to post it. I also intended to illustrate it with pictures from the trip, but bleh. Here’s some of it:

3.14.03
I rock at Chicken-Foot

3.15.03
I suck at Spades

3.16.03
La Fonda – Hotel la mision
The room is actually much nicer than expected for US $35 per night. Spanish tile throughout, and a sliding glass window the width of the room that affords us an inspiring view of the wide Pacific. It is this view, in fact, that you see before anything else. Before the aforementioned Spanish tile, before the king-sized bed, the efficient bathroom, or even the (non-functioning) fireplace in the corner of the room. The view of the Pacific is the stuff of magazines, and makes the other more than worth it. It occurs to me, however, that in turning this room around, perhaps to face the muddy highway, or the muddy side street, or the muddy mud, reduces it’s intrinsic value by thousands. Then, US$35 seems a rip-off. Then, the threadbare curtains really show their age, the broken down RV next door it’s proximity, and the previously efficient bathroom its squalor. Luckily, though, the room is facing the best possible way, and we are indeed in paradise.

Upstairs, in the expansive bar and restaurant associated with the “hotel”, we sit at seats to the left of the bar that offer a view of the setting sun. There, we are served strong and good margaritas for a mere $1.25US each, and eat fresh salsa with totopas. Francisco, with his eager, though halting, English, is an animated conversationalist with a passion for his home town in Michocan. He came here, far from his roots, to pursue a career where good knowledge of English was highly valued. “Lo ciento, I doan know everything about here. I not from here, I from Michocan. I know everything about Michocan! And the place right next to Michocan? There, too!”

3.16.03: “I want to pay for most of our trip.,, Like 51%, I wanna pay for it.” – ADG

Later, falling asleep to the sound of crashing waves, it feels as if the ocean washes and cleanses the mind as well as it does the sea. I reach a kind of trance state, where the only sound I hear is the gentle ebb and flow of millions of gallons of water, and my thoughts drift, as if buoyant…

Dinnertime…
Dinner (cena) was had in Puerta Nueva, a small fishing village renowned for the best (and cheapest) lobster dinners on the Pacific coast. It did not disappoint. For some $12US we shared a 1.5lb Lobster served with mantequilla, tortillas, frijoles, arroz, salsas, quacamole, ceviche, and probably a few other things I can’t remember. The menu was not extensive, they knew why you were there. You had the choice of lobster, or alternatively, lobster.

Note: The salsa here (whereby �here� I mean “Mexico”) is amazing. I must try very hard to recreate it at home.

In on or around my truck, I found three copies of the Alamo Christian Ministries World Newsletter. Obviously, I am such a fervent sinner, that I need multiple copies (at 24 pages each) if I am to be saved. An excerpt from Pastor Tony that I think says it all:

After I had been greatly lied about in the courtroom and imprisoned on false charges of tax evasion, I met several of the Branch Davidians in prison.

Though I think this is pretty funny, too:

Did the destruction of both the Federal Building in Oklahoma City and the World Trade Center in New York really happen without some of our government officials being greatly involved? The answer is no! Hundreds of witnesses say that government agents were not only involved, they placed several other bombs in the buildings as well. These witnesses say that it would have been impossible for the Federal Building in Oklahoma City and the World Trade Center buildings to collapse as they did without there being many other bombs in the buildings.

This is just the worst kind of religious zealousness. Reading/skimming through the whole of the newsletter, I see that we are near The End of Time, perpetrated by Vatican Communist soldiers from Rome, amongst others. That mass conspiracies have been committed by Satan’s lieutenants in the government such as 9/11, both Kennedy assassinations, Waco, the Jonestown suicides, and any Jerry Falwell indiscretions. Beware that we are indeed close to the coming of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, the Creator and Savior of all those who come to Him for repentance and salvation.

And people wonder why there are so many atheists in the world. I can say to their credit, though, that there are at least no visible signs of asking for money… just my soul.

While discussing The Greatest American Hero (which, of course, we often do) while waiting to be seated for dinner, we were interrupted by a person in similar stasis waiting for a table for three as opposed to ours of five, to be told that:

.: The Greatest American Hero was the best show in the world… period
.: TGAH’s character name, Ralph Hinkley was briefly renamed Ralph Hanley after John Hinkley attempted to assasinate President Reagan.
.: should we have any other 80’s trivia questions, this guy… this guy was the guy to ask

You know, sometimes you do feel like a nut, and sometimes… well, not so much.

New apartment that I’m treating as house projects to do:

.: add new electrical outlet in kitchen and plug in associated under-counter lights
.: get pulleys and what not for bike hanging apparatus in garage
.: paint this mother
.: replace wall switches with sexy dimmer switches and fan controls
.: go to the beach, foo’…

You know, the thing about moving is, is that when you’re packing you say to yourself, “Never again! I don’t need any of this crap, and I vow that I will once again be able to fit everything I own into the back of my truck… just like in college. I need to be mobile. I mean, what if there’s a slow-moving fire, and I need to get everything out?!”

But see, when you get There, after moving all of that crap you don’t need, and you start to go through your possessions in order to purge like you promised yourself you would, you start to sound more like, “This? I can’t throw this away! First of all, where am I going to get another Guns ‘N Roses, Use Your Illusion Tour t-shirt? Sure it’s too small, faded, and has battery acid holes in the logo, but I need it… for sentimental value.”

Pardon my absence, I’m buried under yearbooks and unredeemed soda prize-tops.

The Eagle has landed

Well, I’m moved in and back online (whereby “moved-in”, I mean “stacked all of my belongings in precariously balanced piles in various corners”)

By the way, about the City of Santa Clara Public Utilities on-hold music? Worst ever. Two words: repetitive 80’s electronic keyboard.