Friday, September 25, 2009


I was agitated; the Atavan hadn’t kicked in. I prayed my family would forgive my stupidities. I missed the sky. I slept too deep and decided to drive down to the Baja to see Duncan Blitz.

I picked up a 1-week Mexican insurance floater, packed the cooler and an extra pair of jeans, and drove. In Tijuana I filled the cooler with Tecate, Corona and Negra Modelo, bought a couple of tiny tacos de carne asade from a street vendor, noticed the Prius was neither stolen nor smashed, got in and drove. In Rosarito I stopped for camarones a la plancha and a cold beer. I skipped Ensenada, and took the highway through Maneadero, past the spot where I hit the dog. That was thirty years ago and I still feel bad about that dog, but terrible about Hal, who I won’t see again till the afterlife, if.

After the turnoff to Punta Banda I stopped at a roadside stand for 2 jars of olives, a dozen tamales of pork with red chile (an olive buried inside) and a half dozen sweet tamales of corn (cinnamon and a raisin inside). Behind the table the heavyset girl with the glasses and the business smarts had given way to a new heavyset girl with glasses. Probably her granddaughter.

I cranked up a Norteno station on the AM radio, and popped open a cold one for the 20-minute drive to the cove. Punta Banda was still undeveloped, so it was easy to spot the VW next to Duncan’s cabin.

“Hey!” from the opening door. “I was just listening to the game; it’s seventh inning siesta,” he said. I brought in the cooler, and my spare jeans. The cabin was tidy and neat.

The Dodgers lost, improbably, to the Nationals, who won with a sac fly to right in the bottom of the ninth. We decided to check out “La Bufadora,” the blowhole that snorts a tower spray of water from between the rocks. I bought a chocolate con churros but resisted ashtrays, tshirts, painted guitars, ceramic Porky Pigs and Wall-Es at the souvenir stand, and thought about getting my stubby hair braided.

I was still thinking about hair braiding when we decided to walk back from La Buf, to Gordo’s. We sat on the patio, sipping margaritas, and watched the sparkling sea. “Toss a bit of me in the bay, when I’m hay, will you, Dunc?” “Sure,” said Duncan Blitz, looking out at the clear blue swell.

Dinner at Gordo's:

margaritas, frozen, salted rim
guacamole with fresh salsa
dos coronas, with lime
fish tacos, rice, beans, salad
otra cerveza, por favor

dessert: tequila, with salt and lemon

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