We spent two days in Santa Rosalia. As most Mexican people will tell you, two days is a long time to spend in Santa Rosalia. There's not much to really do. Mainly we hung out on the front porch of the Hotel Del Real, reading, playing ukulele. The ukulele seemed to impress passersby, including a policeman who was at work checking car registrations. He told Stefanie that most cars didn't have one, and there wasn't really a lot he could do to make them have one, except ask nicely. He was also upset that he didn't get to carry a gun.
One of the most exciting things we saw in S.R. was a plaque on the building housing the 'Thrifty' ice cream shop. It explained how, in some long ago year, the Police Chief of Santa Rosalia had arrested William Somebody, a U.S. citizen wanted on ten charges of murder. Maybe this was what our policeman had dreamed about when he signed up for the force.
We took a night bus to Ensenada. Twice they stopped the bus at military checkpoints, and made everybody get off the bus and open their luggage. They have sun-faded photos up of some of the drug shipments they've found. I have to say, people say horrible things about the corruption in Mexican officials, but we've had nothing but friendliness. Maybe it's because we're female. Actually, Mexico is a lot less scary than I'd planned. Although men in Loreto had a weird habit of lurking down dark streets. They didn't rob us or anything. They just seemed to be hanging out, looking sketchy.
So we got to Ensenada about 7.30am. We were unsure where to stay; got to the only backpackers hostel and the door was opened by an Australian guy with no pants on, scratching his head and yawning at the hour of day. 'You've come to the right place,' he said. We're certainly having a nice time here, hanging around, drinking coffee, talking to the owner, Carlos, a soft-spoken dreamy Mexican guy who seems to know at least four languages. There aren't many others staying here (read any, apart from Peter, from North Carolina). In fact, Carlos is out at the moment. He left us in charge, with strict instructions not to open the door to anyone. Hopefully he'll be back before anyone wants to get a room.
Ensenada's an interesting place. Lots of cruise ships stop here, so along the waterfront is this touristy stretch of souvenirs and restaurants, and bars that were already getting started when we went down at 11am. But you go one street away from this, and the tourists just disappear. I'm immensely thankful to Stef for speaking Spanish; not only is it sometimes essential, it's allowed us to connect with Mexican people.
Last night, on our way back from wearing out our shoes all over the city, we heard the opening strains of John Lennon's 'Imagine', as sung by a young band of Mexican teenagers (you have not lived until you've sung 'do, do, do do do' as the sun sets over Ensenada). Intrigued, we returned, to find another band playing amidst food tents and dancing. We had a feeling this might be connected to Mexican Independence Day, coming up on Tuesday, but were still a bit confused. Even more so when I was given a free pina colada, and free food. Were these people religious? I started to think this was just the Mexican way, but my thoughts about the inherent goodness of all of humanity were interrupted when the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place: the speeches, the signs for something called PAN, the words action, national and political. We had walked in on a fiesta for the political party currently in government. We got out of there.
Today we finally got to a beach. The beach was sandy. Very sandy. There is still sand on me after a shower. Sand... Oh, sand...
We took a night bus to Ensenada. Twice they stopped the bus at military checkpoints, and made everybody get off the bus and open their luggage. They have sun-faded photos up of some of the drug shipments they've found. I have to say, people say horrible things about the corruption in Mexican officials, but we've had nothing but friendliness. Maybe it's because we're female. Actually, Mexico is a lot less scary than I'd planned. Although men in Loreto had a weird habit of lurking down dark streets. They didn't rob us or anything. They just seemed to be hanging out, looking sketchy.
So we got to Ensenada about 7.30am. We were unsure where to stay; got to the only backpackers hostel and the door was opened by an Australian guy with no pants on, scratching his head and yawning at the hour of day. 'You've come to the right place,' he said. We're certainly having a nice time here, hanging around, drinking coffee, talking to the owner, Carlos, a soft-spoken dreamy Mexican guy who seems to know at least four languages. There aren't many others staying here (read any, apart from Peter, from North Carolina). In fact, Carlos is out at the moment. He left us in charge, with strict instructions not to open the door to anyone. Hopefully he'll be back before anyone wants to get a room.
Ensenada's an interesting place. Lots of cruise ships stop here, so along the waterfront is this touristy stretch of souvenirs and restaurants, and bars that were already getting started when we went down at 11am. But you go one street away from this, and the tourists just disappear. I'm immensely thankful to Stef for speaking Spanish; not only is it sometimes essential, it's allowed us to connect with Mexican people.
Last night, on our way back from wearing out our shoes all over the city, we heard the opening strains of John Lennon's 'Imagine', as sung by a young band of Mexican teenagers (you have not lived until you've sung 'do, do, do do do' as the sun sets over Ensenada). Intrigued, we returned, to find another band playing amidst food tents and dancing. We had a feeling this might be connected to Mexican Independence Day, coming up on Tuesday, but were still a bit confused. Even more so when I was given a free pina colada, and free food. Were these people religious? I started to think this was just the Mexican way, but my thoughts about the inherent goodness of all of humanity were interrupted when the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place: the speeches, the signs for something called PAN, the words action, national and political. We had walked in on a fiesta for the political party currently in government. We got out of there.
Today we finally got to a beach. The beach was sandy. Very sandy. There is still sand on me after a shower. Sand... Oh, sand...
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