Right after the recent presidential election, Russel and I started talking about Baja California, the city of La Paz, specifically. “Remember the open market?” one of us would say, while we shopped. “I could use some of that tropical heat we used to complain about,” I would say, teeth chattering as I walked along a dewy trail on a misty morning. “Those sunsets on the embarcadero were incredible,” he’d murmur, as the sky slowly faded from blue to gray.
Late in November, a friend mentioned a newish airline, Volaris, so I went online and started looking at plane fares. It was cheap to fly down to La Paz from San Diego, and the new Cross Border Express (CBX) made it easy. Our friend Peggy in La Paz promised to put us up in her guest casita, so we had no reason not to go. Soon we had our reservations in hand—on on our phone screens, which amounts to the same thing.
Image Credit: MattGush / iStock.
Flying Out
Our departure day was, not coincidentally, Inauguration Day. Seeing our flight south as a silent cry of resistance, we spent the morning with our eyes and ears averted from the news. A friend dropped us off at at CBX in San Ysidro, a friendly employee guided us through the printing of our FMM/visa forms, and we were walking through the tunnel toward Tijuana International airport minutes later. A smartly dressed young woman in immigration showed me how to use a debit card at a kiosk to pay our tourist tax (you pay this extra fee if you are staying more than 7 days, we were leaving on the eighth day). With nothing to declare, we walked through the third baggage X-ray machine holding our passports and visas and we were in the airport.
Lunch was a club sandwich we bought at a market booth in the waiting area, then we took a stool at the nearest bar, where Russel had a Bohemia Oscar and I had a zesty mojito. There was nada to do after that but watch our Volaris flight number climb up the LED departures sign until it was time to get in line and board. The takeoff went without a hitch, and the clouds parted a few times just long enough to see glimpses of the blue Sea of Cortez as we flew down the 1,000-mile long peninsula. As we swung toward the Pacific and then banked back toward the sea, long rays of papaya-gold sun broke out from under the gray clouds as the turquoise sky peeked through.
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Peggy & La Paz
We called a Didi, the local Uber, and soon were racing through the dark streets toward a brightly lit city that seemed ten times bigger than we recalled. In fact, La Paz had over 250,000 residents at the last census, and some say the population is closer to 300,000 by now. Peggy opened her gate when I texted and we three came into the main house to be greeted by her other friends, a family visiting from Mexico City. The big round table was set with colorful linens and a choice of wine or tequila was poured. We chatted in Spanglish through a delicious dinner of fresh fish in garlic and butter with grilled vegetables. Not long after dinner, we went out to the back garden where our tiny brick casita beckoned us and we soon sunk into our cozy bed.
The next morning we had coffee with our friends and set off to see the city. We walked north all the way into the old Centro neighborhood. Our path took us clear over to Cinco de Mayo, one of the long avenues that runs alongside the central plaza, where the cathedral Nuestra Señora de La Paz stands guard over the populace. Large stone pavers cover the plaza and leafy branches cast shade onto wrought iron benches where people sit to chat, watch children play on the gazebo steps, get their shoes shined, or sip a cool drink. Russel posed for me in his new sombrero de vaquero (cowboy hat) by the cathedral and I snapped him relaxing under the trees.
Image Credit: WomanCake.
Manta Ray Tacos
Walking two blocks brought us to the Malecon, the beachfront road that is the most popular tourist area in the city. Its wide walking path, dotted with kiosks, gazebos and statues large and small, wraps alongside the calm bay for miles from the hotels at the north end of the city, all the way south to Marina de La Paz, which is where we were headed. But first, we needed lunch. We soon found Claros Fish, a welcoming palapa just off the waterfront that looked like an oasis for the footsore and hungry. We plopped into comfy chairs and ordered a cold beer and a Paloma (tequila and grapefruit juice). The taco menu ranged from the familiar to the unusual. We tried one manta ray but decided the grilled shrimp tacos were the best.
Rested and ready for more we wandered another mile along the white sand beach, admiring the many new businesses and mourning the old Hotel Los Marcos, now boarded up and awaiting a new lease on life. We walked past the marina down a side street and finally found the new-to-us house of some old friends who’d texted the directions with no house number (apparently they’ve never known it by heart and had to go out and check what it was). We sat on their patio as the sun sank lower and soon it was time for dinner at The Dock, the waterfront restaurant at Marina de la Paz. Chile Rellenos were my choice and it was a good one, as the toothsome battered and fried chiles were served with a plate of yellow rice and stewed beans.
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The Company of Friends
The next morning we found ourselves at The Dock again, just in time for the breakfast special, a machaca omelet, served with beans and tortillas. The spicy dried beef omelet was succulent and gave us the strength to do another walk into the city. Our chief destination was the wonderful Allende Books where we met Sylvie, a midlife woman who has created an oasis of literary culture on a cobblestone street flanked by stands bearing every type of souvenir.
By mid afternoon we retired back to the shady casita for a nap and woke to find a fiesta in progress. Peggy’s friends had brought fresh oysters and ceviche for a comida (afternoon meal) and the meal was as diverting as the chat we shared in three languages. The party included Peggy’s Mexican friends—two men and two women—who were all about my age and one’s mother, a captivating beauty of 90, who spoke Spanish and some French. A recurring theme was how each of them had found their place—in Mexico City, Ensenada, or here in La Paz. The conversation sparkled for hours, with everyone adding a story, poem, or verse of song.
Image Credit: WomanCake.
Friendly Neighbors
Walking out the gate the next morning in the pre-dawn twilight, I could hardly see to navigate the uneven sidewalk. But as I turned onto the avenue, I could see a dozen people out and about in the half light—sweeping their store’s stoop, wiping down tables at coffee stands, walking to work or to church for morning mass (the bells had been ringing). As I walked along the nearly dark street, each person I passed murmured a buenos dias or buen dia with some men touching their hat brims or nodding gravely as they greeted me. I responded in kind. As I stepped onto the malecon and the sun lightened the sea, I realized that it hadn’t even occurred to me to be afraid of walking at that early hour through a “foreign” city. La Paz felt comfortable, homey. And I felt seen, and respected, by all I encountered.
Saturday featured a road trip to El Triunfo, an old mining town that’s been transformed into a bustling destination location without losing any of its charm. We visited two excellent museums where young women welcomed us and explained the exhibits, and took a break at a world-class bakery whose sticky buns were a work of art. Our day trip included a long drive over bumpy roads to the coast of the Sea of Cortez. There we had a late lunch at a palapa restaurant alongside Bahia de los Muertos, where the balmy breezes blew. I ordered shrimp fajitas which were served with fresh corn tortillas and freshly sautéed vegetables.
Image Credit: MattGush / iStock.
Saying Adios
Sunday Peggy drove us to Playa El Coromuel, a lovely spot just north of La Paz. The sun shone and the Sea of Cortez was perfectly clear, with just a tint of green like sea glass. I walked right into the cool water, and after I dove in it felt quite pleasant. The temperature was in the high seventies and the water in the high sixties. We dined that afternoon at Nim, located in a lovely old building in the Centro, which more than lived up to its reputation of serving great food.
We ended the day, and our week-long vacation, at Hotel Blue, up at their modern glass-walled rooftop bar, complete with an aquamarine wading pool and blazing fire pits, overlooking the sparkling city and the gleaming bay by the light of one of those famous La Paz sunsets.
This article originally appeared on womancake.com and was syndicated by MediaFeed.org.
Image Credit: MattGush / iStock.
