Sunday, July 4, 2010

Involuntary Vandals




La Paz is a city that comes alive when the sun begins to set. Human self-preservation has taught the population to lay low during the heat of the day but as they sky begins its alchemy to golden hues the beachfront Malecón springs to life. Artists, vendors, and street performers take their stations as families stroll and the Mexican youth practice courtship encounters. Rollerbladers and bikers of varying skill level keep things interesting. Packs of street dogs dart in and out of the feet, strollers and wheels passing by.

We stop to watch a group of highly flexible teens demonstrate the core strength required for break dancing to “Eye of the Tiger.” Further down the Malecón, a band of youth playing plastic buckets and a make-shift tuba-like device thrilled a growing crowd with surprising talent.

We had about 20 blocks to walk but it took us nearly two hours to make our way back toward our hotel. As we enjoyed the festivities along the route the sky moved through stages of coral to orange and eventually left us to complete our way in the dark.

Since crossing the four-lane main boulevard is taxing in the light of day, I search the median for a place to cross midway before we reach the curve that obscures a view of oncoming traffic. A road crew had been working in the median for days but a section of the orange hazard fencing was removed so we froggered our way across the eastward traffic to the center divider. There we found a newly poured sidewalk – because a 10 foot wide median is a perfectly logical place to encourage foot traffic in Mexico. I tapped the new cement with the toe of my flip-flog. Satisfied that it was well-cured by the La Paz sun, Celia and I began skipping in yellow-brick road fashion, inspired by the glee of being first to use the new path.

Approximately 20 yards down the path with Club El Moro's white façade beaming in the distance, Celia and I simultaneously transitioned from skip to slide into a low-slung crab posture. With our toes and fingers buried deep in wet cement we starred at each other, mouths thrown open by the shock. With every attempt not to further deface public property, we crawled from the cement overtaken by fits of laughter. Amazingly, it seemed that no one witnessed the spectacle. We slipped into the resort complex by a side gate and tip-toed into our room to wash the concrete from our digits and shoes.

In the morning, once again passing along Malecón on our way to the bus station, we reminisced on our wonderful new impressions of La Paz, thankful that we gave her a second chance. Passing by the crime scene of last night’s involuntary vandalism, we giggled in shared appreciation that we too have left our impression on La Paz.

Into the water with wolves

The highlight for many visitors to La Paz is a visit to the legendary Isla Espíritu Santo, a jagged island just off the peninsula replete with innumerable turquoise coves rimmed with white sand beaches. John Steinbeck spent weeks exploring the waters in this area just prior to World War II in a trawler with a scientist friend creating a collection of marine life that formed the basis for the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Among the hundreds of species of marine life discovered, captured and preserved was a small fish that spent its entire life with its head up the anus of a larger host fish. (You can’t make this stuff up!)

Yet, bio-diversity not to be outdone by fishy perversity, the abundance of life on and around the island would thrill even the most experienced travelers. On our one-day sojourn, we watched bottlenose dolphins frolic in our wake, a manta ray heft its enormous belly into the air, handled intricately decaled sea snails and vibrant starfish, and observed, from a safe distance, lolling puffer fish and a black and white stripped moray eel. Countless sea birds dotted the skies, rocks and beaches to add a touch of feather to fin. Yet the most compelling reason to venture to this absurdly idyllic island rests at the northern most point, Los Islotes. Draped on the rocks and bobbing in the surrounding sea are the island’s largest permanent residents, a colony of sea lions or sea wolves as Spanish-speakers would have you believe.

We tie our guide boat to an anchorage on the leeward side of the rocky crag jutting up from the seabed below. On our tour there is just Celia, me and one Japanese tourista who will be diving while we snorkel. As we tug on our wetsuits and fins, the lobos marinos bark from the rocks and pop from the water all around us. Carlos, our guide, tells us that we will not be going off to the right of the rocks because the colony is recently blessed with many new pups which are being tightly guarded. He got no argument from me. As Carlos drops into the water, and I prepare Celia to do the same, my mind momentarily evaluates the logic of the situation. There is a reason, I assume, that our esteemed swim mates carry monikers of lion and wolf. Afterall, they are not Sea Dogs or Sea Bunnies, now, are they? But with a splash my one and only child is bobbing just a few yards from a curious whiskered snout so I have little choice but to join her.

I have to confess that while the schools of tropical fish, rock walls teaming with life and silvery towers of itty-bitty chum were something to behold, it was all scrim for larger thrill of a silky brown torpedo gliding by you just feet from your chest. Black inky eyes playfully scanned my floating form with curiosity that seems equivalent to my own. I was so enraptured by the novelty of the experience that all rational fear vanished, replaced instead by surges of adrenaline triggered by closer and closer near-contact with the lobos. Even with teeth chattering and toes blue as the water, Celia and came back aboard the boat with wide-eyed perma-grins on our mask-lined faces.

Keeping the Peace in La Paz

You may recall a solemn vow made in a blog post a couple years back in which I swore to never again leave the easy-breezy green paradise for the allure of La Paz. Burned once, literally, by the blazing inferno by the sea, I had all but written off one of Baja’s most popular tourist destinations. However, since we became nomads displaced from Casa Bentley by a wedding party, we dared to venture back into the shades of hell on the promise of an air-conditioned room, pool and three days of water sports. I fully expected the trip to present some adventure – pleasant or otherwise – but I would not have expected that we’d leave La Paz having come to love the town.

Arriving at the surprisingly lush and beautifully appointed Club El Moro at the far end of La Paz’s famed Malecón promenade, the desk clerk abashedly apologized for the cool temperatures. Indeed, the ocean breeze which kept the palm frond canopy in constant sway was near perfection. It took Celia only a moment to appraise the azure blue waters of the figur eight shaped pool which could be transversed by a rope and plank bridge. My eyes spanned beyond the pool to the cabana bar. For a whopping $90 a night, this would do nicely.

Our first night in town we ventured out, as tourists do, for Chinese food. Tipped off by Bob, we chirped “Donde?” until we found ourselves ordering Pollo al Limon and Arroz Fritas in a second story corner restaurant that afforded us an excellent vantage point for people watching. Since we are well past tourist season, the passersby were largely locals – and I do mean largely. Cultural norms aside, aye carumba, lay off the carbs! I decide to forego the rice and stick with the chicken for dinner.

We decided to make it an early night since we’d need to wake at the ungodly hour of 7:00 am for the next leg of our adventure. I drifted off to sleep with a silent prayer to the universe to keep the breezes blowing.