La Bufadora

Posted on by

The La Bufadora Blowhole South of Ensenada

There aren’t really too many tourist sights near Ensenada, unless you feel you must include Hussong’s Cantina on the list. Neither Dan nor I wanted to visit that particular institution, however, so we drove south to the Punta Banda Peninsula 17 miles (27 km) south of Ensenada.

According to Wikipedia:

La Bufadora is often considered a marine geyser, however, it does not have a thermal source or cause, as geysers do. In this case, the spout of sea water is the result of air, trapped in a sea cave, exploding upwards. Air is forced into the cave by wave action and is released when the water recedes, ejecting water up to 100 ft. [30.5 meters] above sea level. This interaction not only creates the spout, but a thunderous noise as well.

The interval between eruptions is fairly constant, and matches the dominant swell, confirming that the activity at La Bufadora is determined by surface ocean waves. Between 2005 and 2011 the recurrence between eruptions was between 13 and 17 seconds.

La Bufadora is one of the largest blowholes in the world.

Normally, on a busy day, visitors must run the gauntlet from the parking lot to the blowhole, bypassing a slew of souvenir stands, food vendors, highly suspicious pharmacies, and bars. But, as we were there on a day when there were no cruise ships in the Port of Ensenada, most of the businesses were closed. On the day after, I am sure the place was hopping.

La Bufadora Between Upswells

In a word, La Bufadora was an interesting place. I did get tired of telling importunate vendors on the way to the blowhole, however, that I was a cheap bastard and wasn’t interested in souvenirs.

Mercado Negro

Posted on by

At Ensenada’s Seafood Market

It is generally referred to as the Mercado Negro, the Black Market. Not because its contents are smuggled in illegally, but because the market used to be on the dingy side. In yesterday’s post, I mistakenly referred to it by the name Mercado de Pescados. Actually, it is more properly called the Mercado de Mariscos.

I love visiting Latin American seafood markets. Perhaps the most impressive I have ever seen is the one in Puerto Montt, Chile—mainly because so much of what was on display was totally unknown and strange to me. That was not the case in Ensenada.

As my brother and I wandered down the aisles looking at the seafood on offer, one enterprising young salesman suggested I buy one of the large fish and have one of the local restaurants prepare it for me. I had this picture of myself hauling a smelly and dripping 10 pound (4.5 kg) salmon from one restaurant to another begging they would take it off my hands and filet and cook it for us. Nice try, kid!

Given all the seafood stands and restaurants in Ensenada, I was surprised that the mercado de mariscos was so small, but then Ensenada is flanked by a number of small fishing villages which probably also supply it. Some of these villages, like Puerto Nuevo and Popotla, have developed reputations of their own for seafood.

Street Grunting

Posted on by

My Brother Dan at Lily’s Tacos in Ensenada

The city of Ensenada is full of fascinating street carts and little hole-in-the-wall restaurants specializing in fish and shrimp tacos and other seafood dishes. The first one we went to, Lily’s Tacos, is right by the Mercado de Pescados (aka the Mercado Negro). It was visited by Anthony Bourdain on a show in his “Parts Unknown” TV series. In fact, there is a picture of Bourdain on the wall behind my brother’s hat.

I had two fish tacos and a Corona. As is the custom, we were given the warm corn tortilla with a plain piece of lightly breaded fish. In front of us were various salsas, crema, pickled onions, chiles en escabeche, shredded cabbage, salt, and other condiments that we spooned onto the fish tacos. We were in hog heaven.

Guero’s, Another Fish Taco Vendor

Whereas Lily’s Tacos had a few tables for customers, many of the taco stands were for standees only, such as Guero’s and Fenix. I tended to prefer sit-down places, as I had to take medications with my meals, including a shot of insulin.

Dan and I actually did go to Ensenada mainly to eat fish tacos, and we were not disappointed in our quest. Fish tacos in the U.S, usually are too heavily breaded, made with frozen fish old enough to vote, and minus the rich condiments that made an Ensenada fish taco a culinary treat. Yes, I mean you, Rubio’s Fish Tacos. May you shrivel up out of shame!

Mexico has a rich tradition of street grunting. Don’t feel like a heavy meal? Just get a taco or a quesadilla or chicharrones or carnitas or a tostada. It won’t set you back too much; and it can be an amazing treat. Of course, you have to be able to judge which carts are good and which are unsanitary traps. One easy method: Check out the number and type of customers waiting in line.

Fortunately, all the places we tried in Ensenada were strictly A-1.

Back from Ensenada

Posted on by

Ensenada Sign at La Bufadora

Yesterday afternoon I returned from Ensenada, where I spent a couple of days with my brother Dan. Unfortunately, the long drive left me with a bit of a sore throat, which I fought by sucking Ricola lozenges. It made me think that I have to scale down some of my travel ambitions, as I am no longer as young as I used to be. But that doesn’t mean that I am falling out of love with travel: It just means I have to do everything more slowly, in stages.

I met my brother in front of one of the San Ysidro parking lots by the border crossing. He drove down I-15 from the Coachella Valley, while I took the I-405, the I-5, and the I-805. Because of heavy traffic and several accidents on the highway, it took me four hours to reach the border.

At that point, Dan took the wheel to cross the border and take the scenic 1-D Quota Road past Rosarito Beach to Ensenada. I was relieved to be just a passenger for that final leg of the trip, as driving in Mexico could be a challenge.

Fortunately, the weather on Tuesday and Wednesday was perfect: breezy and in the low 70s Fahrenheit (21 to 26° Celsius). For some reason there weren’t many American tourists in town, so it felt as if we had the whole place to ourselves. We were surprised to see that a lot of the businesses were closed, until we realized that most of the Yanqui invaders came from cruise ships like The Navigator of the Seas and various Carnival Cruise liners. In fact, only as we were leaving town yesterday morning did we see a liner loosing boat people on the streets of Ensenada.

For the next few days, I will describe in some detail about what we did, what we ate (hey, we went down there for fish tacos—and we were not disappointed), and what we saw.

Tres Días en Baja

Posted on by | 2 Comments

The Port of Ensenada, Mexico

I will not be posting again until Friday, when I return from three days in Ensenada, Baja California. Early tomorrow, I will be driving down to the San Ysidro border crossing and meeting my brother there. (He will be coming down from Palm Desert in the Coachella Valley.) At that point, I will hand over the wheel to Dan, who will drive us in my car down to Ensenada, which is something like an hour’s drive south of the border.

Although Ensenada is a major cruise port, we will not have to fight our way past boat people until 8 AM Thursday, when the USS Navigator of the Seas will begin disgorging 3,100 passengers right around the tiome we will be heading back to the border.

Why are we going to Ensenada? Why, for the fish tacos, of course. The city has a reputation for the best taco carts in Mexico, especially where seafood is concerned. When I return home, I expect to have developed gills to aid in my breathing.

Icelandic Mystery

Posted on by

The Town of Akranes, Setting for Eva Björg Ægisdottir’s Novels

It’s difficult to think of Iceland as a “scene of the crime” involving murder. The entire nation has a population under 400,000, with approximately half living in or near the capital of Reykjavík. Yet I know of three mystery authors who write about more Icelandic murders than could have occurred within the last half century..

The writers, in the order that I discovered them, are:

  • Arnaldur Indriðason
  • Yrsa Siguðardottir (who also writes children’s books)
  • Eva Björg Ægisdottir

All three are excellent writers. Below are my favorites among their works:

  • Hypothermia and Reykjavík Nights by Arnaldur Indriðason
  • Ashes to Dust and My Soul to Take by Yrsa Siguðardottir
  • Girls Who Lie and Night Shadows by Eva Björg Ægisdottir

These are just some of my favorites, but I haven’t read a single stinker by any of these authors.

Shakespeare on Lust

Posted on by | 2 Comments

William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 129 is one of those poems which I have read again and again over the decades. The subject is lust, a frequent topic in the Bard’s poems and plays. When I first encountered it, I thought it was a bit on the ugly side; but as time went on, I began to see a certain beauty in it. Tell me what you think of it.

Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murd’rous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight,
Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had
Past reason hated as a swallowed bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so,
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

Winning

Posted on by

I have never been one of those smiley-faced individuals who always have to be on the winning side. It’s even got me into trouble when I was a Director of Corporate Communications for a computer software company. I always saw things from both sides, unlike those corporate marionettes who advertise “ask your doctor” pharmaceuticals on television.

It’s probably due to my Hungarian ancestry. Hungary was on one of the two main invasion paths from Asia into Europe (the other being Poland). I have perhaps an ancestral memory that pretending to have happy thoughts will not prevent Attila and Genghis Khan from their accustomed pattern of rapine, looting, and murder.

Winning is nice when it happens, but it’s not a permanent condition. After all, we all will eventually sicken and die. If you live long enough, your skin will resemble the craters of the moon; and your days will be accompanied by bouts of pain and even suffering. Oh, and you can forget right off about drawing admiring glances from hot young women. Unless you pay them well.

So if your days, like mine, are a strange mix of winning and losing, you can find some fleeting happiness in small pleasures. In my retirement years, I feel gratified in not having to spend 40+ hours a week dancing to the tune of some megalomaniacal boss, of which I have had several. I read books; I cook; I do chess problems; I travel when I can. Maybe that’s as close to winning as one can get in this life.

Standing Tall at the Podium

Posted on by

Height Is the Only Advantage for This Mental Midget

Today I watched the debate between Vice President Kamala Harris and her opponent. There couldn’t possibly be two candidates who were more different from each other.

Trump’s only advantage is that he is almost a foot taller than Harris, and America is a country which tends to over-reward candidates who are tall. I myself am of medium height (5 feet 8 inches, or 1.75 meters), though because of a pituitary tumor I had from an early age, I was the shortest male in class throughout my elementary school years. It was only after the tumor was removed at age 21 that I grew to my present height.

There have been statistics to the effect that greater than average height is a clear advantage in politics, business, and wooing. My own thinking is that the height advantage, while real, is no guarantee of success.

At today’s presidential debate, it was Kamala Harris who stood tall. She was quick to react, made frequent eye contact, and even began by going to Trump’s podium and shaking his hand, which no doubt surprised the ex-president to no end. Trump, on the other hand, looked like the grumpy old man that he is, wanting to chase all the darned kids off his lawn, and speaking with a cold, constipated rage that made me think we probably wouldn’t live out his term if elected.

The Heat Wave Continues

Posted on by

Today was the fourth (or was it the fifth?) day of a brutal heat wave. I haven’t been able to accomplish much, and I refuse to cook any meals, as long as my living quarters resemble a sweat lodge.

If there are still any climate change deniers out there, I invite them to ascend a podium in the middle of the afternoon wearing a winter coat and explain their position in a hours-long speech without dropping dead.