TravelStream™ news feed for member jeznkez on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/jeznkez en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Thu, 26 Nov 2009 09:44:41 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1252855806/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1252855806/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1252855806/tpod.html Thu, 26 Nov 2009 09:44:41 -0500 Break for the Border!

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Topolobampo, Sinaloa, Mexico

As the sun rose over the industrial port of Topolobampo the night ferry a.k.a. our purgatory, docked. An exhausted Kez and Jez loped off the back of it, hastily picked up their luggage and like lambs to the slaughter walked straight toward a group of taxis, looking for swift transportation the 3 miles to the Los Mochis train station.

We were too mentally weakened and in too much of a hurry by this point to argue with the vastly inflated price, and there would have been little point haggling with this taxi cartel, especially as we didn't speak the lingo. The only other option was to shoulder our bags, walk through the port and start hitching on the main road, and they were savvy enough to tell that a haggard looking pair like us weren't up for those kind of shenanigans.

We had 25 minutes to reach the train station, book a ticket on the Chihuahua al Pacifico (Copper Canyon Railway) to Chihuahua and get on board. A tall order indeed and with our lackadaisical taxi driver whose gender we couldn't readily discern it was looking mighty unlikely. Furiously flicking through the Lonely Planet's Spanish phrase book pages for "Step on it!" we simmered in the back, knowing that make it or not we were gonna get ripped off.

We pulled up at the deserted looking concrete train station at 7.02am and after a lot of hand signals and broken english discovered that the Classe Economica (Cheap) train no longer goes on Sunday mornings. Bastard.

So back in the rip off cab and charged another £rinsed to get into Los Mochis town where we found a random hotel and paid for a double room. CRASSSSHHHHH.

Somehow we awoke from our sleep of the dead to get up and have a walk around Los Mochis. Pretty drab place overall but with one redeeming quality in the leafy public square with a large and well attended colonial church at one end. Here we sampled another Mexican oddity.
Fresh coconut, hacked open with a machete, the milk poured out into a plastic bag and handed to you with a straw. The flesh inside cut into a pile inside the nut and laced with tomato sauce, chili sauce, salt and.... you guessed it! Lime juice. All a bit dodgy really and not to our taste but I can tell you people were queuing up at the stall next to the church.

We went to a really good seafood resutaurant. Consumed some ceviche whole sea bass, a couple of HOOJ tequilas and some beer chasers and retired for the evening.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1252239168/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1252239168/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1252239168/tpod.html Wed, 25 Nov 2009 04:53:23 -0500 Break for the Border!

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Cabo San Lucas, Baja California, Mexico

We were becoming a little too accustomed to the creature comforts of the Suite Mision. It was time to penetrate deeper into the rugged landscape surrounding us and blaze a trail right through this damn desert. But before we left the beaten track behind we needed a more inconspicuous vehicle to perform a day long recon mission. We chose a small Nissan saloon and set off into the arid and desolate landscape, punctuated only by fields of enormous cabron cacti. We drove for an hour diagonally across to the Pacific side of the peninsula in the direction of surfing mecca - Todos Santos.

Todos Santos is a quiet little backwater that was originally a large producer of sugar cane but in recent years has seen an influx of US expats buying up the real estate here, drawn by the towns coastal location and the many well restored Spanish colonial buildings.

Nowadays the area produces mainly chilis and avocados and also claims to be home to THE Hotel California that the Eagles were going on about. I don't know about that but it's a lovely place, with a restaurant and lovely internal courtyard with a fountain an that. We hung around a bit, almost passing out in the heat and then had an amble around the small town. Got chatting to an American woman selling jewellery on the street who warned us not to try swimming on the beach as three people had recently been taken out to sea by the strong currents never to return. She also told us where to find the best taco de pescado stand in town which we duly sought out and WOW, just a simple food stand on the roadside called Georges selling hands-down the best fish taco's we'd tried so far. 20p each! and some serious chili accompaniments.

Back in the car to find this scary beach the US lady had been going on about we ended up driving out of town into the sticks and down a dirt track that became more and more sandy until the smallfry Nissan could go no further. I opened the car door, stepped out of the A/C, into the oppressive heat and harsh sunlight and trudged through the bone dry, deepening sand in my flip-flops. As I came up over the bluff, I began to hear a growing noise of the waves. The moment I saw the totally deserted beach I understood that the advice we had been given was valid. This was no swimming beach. The power of the waves was clear. Not that the seas were high, just malevolent in intensity. The riptide was clearly visible even from 40 metres away, and as I got to the shallows was taking my legs and it seemed half the beach from under me with ease. Any attempt to have a quick dip in these particular Pacific waters would have been virtual suicide. I would have been out to sea before I knew what had happened. It was awesome but quite intimidating to be completely alone and within reach of such an unbridled force of nature.
Saying that, it's just the sort of raw power that hardcore surfers are searching for and the danger only drives them on, knowing that there will be some great breaks here. Consequently, a number each year fall fowl of the rip.

Our next stop, an hour further south and right at the very tip of the peninsular was Cabo San Lucas and an altogether different kettle of fish. Packed out with American tourists who fly here or day trip from their offshore cruise liner, the beach is gorgeous but busy with all amenities including sun lounger-side service. We sat there with a margarita and soaked up some rays. The water is like a swimming pool. Calm and really clear. The afternoon passed quickly and after watching some baby turtles being reintroduced to the ocean we packed up and drove in the darkness the four hours back to La Paz.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1255797546/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1255797546/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1255797546/tpod.html Wed, 25 Nov 2009 04:12:42 -0500 Break for the Border!

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La Paz, Baja California, Mexico

We had to leave this godforsaken backwater as a matter of priority. Getting stuck here for the rest of the weekend would see us either led in a gutter with tequila poisoning or walking around with a suitcase full of plastic souvenirs, our heads capsized by the incessant touts. However, trying to book a flight at a small independent travel agency in Tijuana with no Spanish other than 'Dos cerveza por favor' was proving problematic. Anyway, why didn’t these savages speak English? Or maybe they were just plain ignorant, eh?

Either way after a bit of toing and froing back to the hotel to get the receptionist to scrawl our requirements in Spanish, we had two one way airline tickets in our mitts and jumped straight in a taxi to the airport. Two breakfast Modelo’s and a chicken schnitzel butty later we were flying high over the second longest peninsular in the world, heading for the capital: La Paz.

The Mexican state of Baja California is composed of a finger of land that extends outwards from the mainland and runs for some 1200km. The main components are barren desert, huge cacti, awesome beaches, rugged coastline and crystal clear waters on both the Pacific and Sea of Cortez shores. Rather un-staunchly (but very comfortably) we flew over most of it in around two hours, and before we knew it were in a taxi driving into the centre of La Paz.

We really hit paydirt with the hotel; The Suite Mision, selected only for it's location from the Lonely Planet. Slap bang in the centre of the quaint Malecon (seafront walk), our room was indeed a suite, with split level dining and sleeping areas, kitchen, fridge, A/C, cable T.V. and a full ocean view from the balcony. Even the fact that the decor clearly hadn't been changed since the 70's didn't detract, adding a retro flavour. But we quickly came to realise that best thing about this hotel wasn't the facilities or location but the staff. Brenda and Walter who manage the place were absolute gems and intent on making our stay a pleasure. It was definitely a good idea to drop anchor here for a few days.

Like TJ, La Paz seemed to be pretty dead with no western tourists at all, only Mexican families who for all we knew were local. The place was swelteringly hot with only a gentle breeze coming off the sea the afternoon we got there. The rest of our first day was spent exploring the place with a general bent on seeking out A/C to restabilise our unclimatized bodies, and then sampling the vast array of tequilas. This led to an unfortunate incident late on in the evening where I somehow found myself enthusiastically attempting a rendition of Hey Jude in front of Kerry and about three worried looking Mexicans in a karaoke bar. Err, embarrassing and dreadful.

Walter is some sort of uber tourist guide but you can tell he's not got any ulterior motives, he properly gets a buzz out of it. Need internet access? - borrow my laptop ---- Need to rent a car? - Let me make a call, done. ----- Need to try the best fish taco's in town? - Go to the Bismark. Righto Walter! Whatever you say!

Fish Taco's are the best thing ever and as you often find with food, simplicity itself: Take a corn or flour tortilla, add goujons of fresh-as-you-like fish in a light batter, top with salsa, chili sauce and the ubiquitous lime juice, you've got pure snack heaven and all for 50p, get in!
I like a country where they understand the need for condiments and Mexico is definitely one of those countries. There is always an array within easy reach - choice of 2 strengths of chili sauce, salsa, gaucamole and always slices of lime. Limes with everything in fact!! A salted slice of lime squeezed into the mouth in between sips of ice cold lager, or squeezed onto fresh coconut flesh with a dash of chili sauce and tomato juice. They fucking love it.

We led on the beach across from the hotel in the blazing sunlight, stoically damaging our skin for an hour in the hope of darkening it, but the terrific heat and tepid sea water in the bay meant a quick escape back to our almost frosty hotel room (wonder what that puddle on the floor is Kerry? Oh, could it be that we're rinsing the A/C?), a cold Modelo and an hour of Andy Murray in the US open. Now we've got a holiday!!!

When the sun was well down and some of the heat gone, we took a stroll around the bay to the far side where there was a stronger breeze and found a nice little restaurant. With the lights of La Paz in the distance, the moon high over the town and the quiet lapping of the water against the pier we ate a lovely little starter of Tostada (large nachos) covered in chopped chorizo, soured cream, goats cheese and the most exquisite salsa. Followed by a lush filet of Sole. Quality food. We could get very used to this.....



]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1258822510/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1258822510/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1258822510/tpod.html Sun, 22 Nov 2009 15:29:30 -0500 Break for the Border!

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Pichilingue, Baja California Sur, Mexico

It was never going to be pleasant. We sat on the concrete floor of the ferry terminal leant against our rucksacks, sweating in the heat and watching lorry after lorry slowly reversing onto the ferry. Clearly this was primarily a cargo ship. There was no way that gringos like us had eenough pesos for one of the few private cabins, so after waiting for an hour and a half after the scheduled departure time we were unceremoniously corralled into the 'salon' with the truckers, rancheros and ne’er do wells. They even had cattle prods in case of any treachery.

On first inspection the salon looked harmless enough. One might have expected metal benches but we had reasonably soft chairs set in rows with a fair angle of potential recline and a no more than normal level of sweat stainage. Nor did we have to eject any interlopers from our chairs. In fact we had three seats to go at, so no problems there. No, as usual it was the unexpected elements of the journey that turned the crossing into a 10 hour series of torments familiar to inmates of Guantanamo bay, and seemed structured to systematically break us down to the point of bitter frustration and anger.

First on the menu our digestive systems were tenderised by the prison style canteen food. Fearing the need for hasty evacuation of stomach contents we left the restaurant and retired to our quarters for the night. Our bedfellows, the 200 or so other passengers, seemed already lost in a deep slumber. A sea of Stetsons perched over faces in the half light. Unfortunately there was precious little chance of us joining them. One exception to our comatose companions, a guy who clearly wasn’t tired enough to sleep, leaned casually against a column at the end of the aisle, gazing at us with a disinterested, blank expression. You know the kind of look that so often prefaces extreme and unrestrained violence? So as you can imagine the possibility of being woken up by the sound of him screaming and clawing hysterically at Kerry’s face didn’t really help me settle. In fact it was unsettling me quite severely. One woman a few seats down, who in the ethereal glow given off by the fluorescent strip lighting, and the distortions of our by now exhausted and twisted minds, had taken on the appearance a bloated corpse with it’s mouth agape, emitted a continuous blast of unmitigated white noise from her nostrils through her unbroken sleep.

The thing that escaped us was how on earth these people had managed to slip into unconsciousness. Especially considering the two 52 inch plasma screens mounted at either end of the 50 foot wide room, both turned up to ELEVEN. ALL. NIGHT. LONG. What’s more, the programmes, though US drama, were dubbed in Spanish. So as the minutes of the night slowly trickled by, with partially closed eyes set on the screen, the images seemed somehow familiar and reassuring yet the unfamiliar tongue was surely mocking me. "What’s the prob Bob?“ “Can’t get to sleep amigo?" “Shame about that”.

The third and final barrier to any kind of sleep or indeed relaxation of any kind was the temperature. Some joker had set the air con to BALTIC. Sick fucker. So we could either sit there being stared down by a potentially homicidal lunatic, waiting for him to pounce while freezing our respective genitalia off, or walk outside into the force nine sea winds and start sweating from the humidity. Either way not a good deal.

Kerry resorted to lying down in the aisle wrapped up cocoon-like in our recently purchased Mexican rug. I simply sat there with the Ipod on, rocking slowly backwards and forwards. Just waiting the night out.

This was truly the dark side of independent travel.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1258483084/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1258483084/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1258483084/tpod.html Thu, 19 Nov 2009 16:37:31 -0500 Break for the Border!

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El Tecolote, Baja California Sur, Mexico

Well it's fair to say we had given the desert a thorough going over. It was now time to tackle the sea! So, once again with Walter's assistance we chartered a small wooden speed boat with an American couple and sailed from the lovely sandy beach of El Tecolote out to Espiritu Santo which is an island about 15 kilometres offshore in the Gulf of Mexico, inhabited only by a couple of fishermen and a colony of sea lions.

Our compadres for the day, Adrianna and Marco grew up in Tijuana but now live just across the US border in San Diego. They spoke fluent Spanish and were more than happy to translate so that we could understand what our enigmatic captain was saying throughout the day which was invaluable and much appreciated.

We raced through the clear azure waters and across the strait in around 45 mins and began tracking around the rocky island, awesome rock faces rising up sheer from the sea. El capitan taking us into caves through narrow apertures formed into the rock by erosion, where hosts of red and yellow spotted crabs scuttled away as the boat neared them. As we continued following the shore at about 50 metres out the captain suddenly spotted movement in the water as a fin emerged from the surface. Astonishingly we had a whale and her cub just off the side of the boat!!! They moved around the bay and every so often would surface and we would pull alongside to snatch a glimpse of them. What majestic creatures. So huge, but slicing rapidly and gracefully through the water. We were incredibly lucky to see them especially at this time of year which is unusual.

After 15 mins of chasing around after them we sailed on, enjoying the varied colours of the cliff sides. From deep grey to the most vivid peach reflecting the sunlight. Suddenly the captain exclaimed he had seen something on the horizon and said we were in for a big surprise. He throttled up the outboard motor and sped off full tilt in the direction of his sighting. And before we knew it we were amongst a whole school of baby dolphins, literally hundreds of them all diving around the boat. What an extraordinary spectacle and once again we felt enormously privileged. We followed them for a while marvelling at the sight. The sea was thick with them and there were so many that we could even hear them squeaking away to each other. How amazing!

What next? Well we passed by the sea lion colony and then stopped for some lunch in a gorgeous turquoise cove. The resourceful captain breaking out some nachos and freshly made food while we snorkelled around in the shallow perfectly clear water. He served us up some Ceviche which we were new to. It's basically white fish that has been marinated in lime juice. The acid in the juice effectively cooks the fish and it is put together with chillis, tomatoes, peppers and vinegar to make a delicious and zingy salad.

After lunch we jumped back on the boat and the continued around the island checking out the beautiful rock formations. The captain took us to a place he knew was good snorkelling. To be honest it was a bit too deep for any sunlight to reach the coral and the coral itself was very samey so we didn’t stay in long but just splashed around the boat and climbed back on board. While we were messing around the captain has donned his mask and snorkel, dove down the eight or so metres to the sea bed and resurfaced a couple of minutes later clutching a huge clam in each hand! He climbs back into the boat, knifes one of the shells open, then goes on to assemble the holy trinity of Mexican condiments – limes, salt and chilli sauce. Drips a stream of lime juice on the flesh to see if it moves, ensuring the freshness, then cuts the flesh free of the shell with his knife and slices it up still in the shell, laces it with chilli sauce and a scattering of salt and passes it over for our tasting pleasure. How fresh can you get? You know me and seafood, I was almost wetting myself with excitement. The clam flesh was tasty and succulent and the combined juices were a fishy taste explosion with a kick! This guy was a goddamn hero.

We completed our circuit of the island and made it back to shore with just enough time for a couple of well earned Negra Modelo beers and a chat with our new mates.

The boat trip had definitely been a good idea although I had stupidly burnt my thighs, the breeze off the sea misleading me as to the true heat of the scorching sun. A school boy error which meant that we spent the following day hiding from the raging heat trying to find constant A/C. We even resorted to skulking around department stores 'testing' beds out. We also paid a visit to our favorite restaurant in town, a US style TGI Friday type place called Applebees which we liked mainly for it's frosty A/C and free wi-fi. Oh and the ribs weren't half bad either.

But we had to face it, the relaxation part of the vacation was over. Time was fast running out and our ultimate goal was Mexico City which was a few thousand kilometres over yonder. We had to pack the bags and catch a ferry across the Sea of Cortez in the direction of Los Mochis and the Copper Canyon Railway, which would take us from the coast to Chihuahua, 500 miles inland.

The next morning we regretfully checked out of our new home the Hotel Suite Mision, bought a cake for our affable local tour guides Walter and Brenda, had a last sample of the unbelievable fish tacos at the Bismark where we got unsuspectingly but only temporarily hammered on Don Juan tequila and dried out in a coffee shop until it was time to taxi to Pichilingue and catch the ferry.


]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1256666423/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1256666423/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1256666423/tpod.html Tue, 17 Nov 2009 13:37:50 -0500 Break for the Border!

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La Ventana, Baja California Sur, Mexico

But let's face it, we had been pussyfooting around for far too long. It was high time we acquired a vehicle that could tackle the desert head on and get us in amongst it. Thanks to the local contacts of our friend Senor Walter, he merely clapped his hands and hey presto! we had a lithe and wiry Jeep Wrangler, crouched like a coiled spring in front of the Suite Mision, just waiting to open a can of whupass on this so called wilderness. Oh yes. PAYDIRT.

Poyser took the cockpit, stepped resolutely on the throttle and the Jeep responded, roaring off down the road, but bouncing uncomfortably on the smooth tarmac as it railed against the far too even surface, not happy at all. It was looking for something much more meaty. As were we. We quickly left La Paz behind and began to pass newly built resorts. Following the sea the road passed by the port of Pichilingue (which we were going to come to intimate terms with in the next few days) and further on a couple of gorgeous turquoise coves which looked so inviting we almost forgot the mission and dove straight in. But we had no time for this borgeois nonsense, the Jeep was growling away behind us, ravenous and chomping at the bit! Maintain focus!

Soon enough the road ran out completely and we came to a small restaurant and some surf shacks that indicated we had arrived at the outpost of El Tecolote, where Walter had told us to get some up to date gen on the condition of the coastline further south, in light of the recent hurricane. Unfortunately Walter’s friend was proving elusive, especially as we couldn’t ask for him in any intelligible way, so we forged ahead with the only tools we needed: a litre of water, the fearless Wrangler and a pair of massive cojones.

The Jeep lurched forward eagerly onto the rocky terrain, becoming immediately more comfortable to handle as it settled into a much more familiar and pleasing rhythm. The IPOD was switched to off-road mode, currently playing Basement Jaxx in order to amp up the occupants. Very quickly we arrived in the full on wilderness, the elements around us reduced to sea, sand, bushes and cartoon cactus of monolithic proportions. Every so often we would glimpse a couple of vultures circling high overhead or maybe one perched on top of a cactus surveying the landscape. Not much more obvious wildlife to speak of in this beautiful but inhospitable environment.

The rugged terrain varied from 45 degree rocky inclines to boulder strewn ravines to deep sandy tracks and we just bounced and skidded through the awesome countryside finding our way as we went, but generally trying to keep within eyeshot of the sea on our left, so we knew we were heading in a roughly southerly direction. We dropped right down onto the beach a number of times and just drove right next to the light blue sea, not a soul in sight. Brilliant stuff.

As we penetrated deeper into the desert and the track became fainter until we were driving across the untouched tundra through fields of cactus, Kerry started to take pensive glances at our measly litre of tepid water and have premonitions of us breaking down, passing out from dehydration and having our bones picked clean by the vultures. This level of fear became understandable as I gunned the Wrangler to the top of a ridiculously steep rise that had been heavily eroded into a divetted concertina shape by the recent flooding. The Jeep had by now become gorged on about as much off road action as it could handle for one day and balked at this challenge, but to stop now would have been to retreat, defeated, so I stamped down even harder on the accelerator and amid smells of burning from the engine we made the crest, clocked the horizon, saw only mountains in the distance and then started seriously wondering where the hell we were.

The Jeep smelled like it was about to explode but we knew we had to go on. In the absence of any Ray Mears skills and a dearth of common sense we judged purely on instinct which way the sea was and eased our way off the precarious shelf of rock, steadily powering the Wrangler on across the divetted landscape. At length we came to a bunch of six foot boulders which even the Jeep could not traverse so regretfully we turned around and headed inland in the hope of finding a proper track. I must confess that by this point in the adventure I too was keen to see some sign of previous human habitation.

In our eyes the desert had now turned from ruggedly beautiful to featureless and sinister. After bumping and meandering for an hour around we found a rough track which gradually turned into a more well beaten one and we knew we probably weren’t going to die. However that certainty quickly crumbled when we caught a glimpse of an upcoming, ostensibly deserted beach where Kerry spotted a group of guys all dressed in black that looked for all the world like terrorists.

At this stage there probably wasn’t a huge gap between how isolated we felt and how isolated we were. We had now driven for four hours into the middle of nowhere, poorly equipped, the co-pilot shrieking with fear and clutching at her throat in the midst of a mild panic attack, "Why have you brought us out here you ridiculous twat!!?!!". As far as she was concerned the only people we had seen in this desert in four hours were about to let rip on the Jeep with sub machine guns, and all the time the sun was beating down on the Jeep, threatening to riddle our minds with tropical madness. We drove as quietly as possible past the gun toting suicide bombers who had now retreated to an unknown location (to watch us), and continued through ever higher cactus (i’m talking 20 foot) on a fairly even gravel track.

Just then, a pick up truck with three uniformed occupants, one woman and two men came up behind us. After nearly soiling ourselves with fear we broke out the map and began pointing at it like pituary retards. Luckily they spoke enough English to understand that we were heading towards La Ventana. They chaperoned us out of the bush, back onto a fully sealed road and set us in the right direction. Real friendly like.

Phew! We were out of the (perceived) shit. I was a bit miffed that the off-road mission seemed to be over for now as I was secretly hoping to go right to San Jose del Cabo, at the southern tip of Baja, but this was quite patently the misguided idea of a complete nutter and to be fair I was pretty much sated with the action so far.

The rest of the day was tame in comparison as we were on sealed roads, but still good fun, dodging the pot holes and sand drifts left over from the recent hurricane. We headed steadily south, driving through the few coastal villages that have spung up to service the surfing and diving crowds. All pretty basic and backed as ever by the stark, bare, sand coloured mountains.

By 4pm we were barrelling along a dirt track towards Cabo Pulmo, where lies the only coral reef on the peninsular. It was such a relief to escape from the heat, strip off our dirt ridden clothes, jump in the sea with mask and flippers on, swim out a few metres and take a butchers at the sea life. Not so much variety in terms of coral, but a fair amount of colourful fish.

We had a meal at a nearby restaurant and drove back to La Paz on dirt tracks in the dark, feeling beat after the days off road action.
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Los Angeles, California, United States

Basically Venice beach is wicked. Originally conceived by tobacco millionaire Abbot Kinney in 1905 as the US version of the real Venice in Italy, complete with it's own specially dug canals, nowadays it comprises a long beach front walk with stalls, backed by hotels and grungy digs, palm trees, and a pretty deep beach.

After eating nearby that night and rising early the next morning, strolling onto the beach and messing in the waves for a bit, explorations further afield from our hotel uncovered many entertaining options. Not least the extraordinary people watching potential. Choosing a 1920's looking, packed out open air restaurant along the front called the Sidewalk, we made our customary afternoon stop for a pitcher of beer and a dripping with fat, but gorgeous hot pastrami sandwich and marvelled at the smorgasbord of humanity passing by. As we had seen in Santa Cruz, no-one simply walks. What you have is a rolling buffet of visual treats from street performers to rollerbladers, longboarders to drop-outs, stoners to absolute nutters.
A middle aged white bloke grinds to a stop on roller blades and starts chatting to a Rasta guy hawking his paintings on the sidewalk. Two young guys cruise by on low riders chatting to each other and whoever is on the other end of their cell phones at the same time. An ageing hippy character rolls by on his skateboard looking dazed and confused. The one common trend is that everyone seems to be very relaxed. One might even say toasted. This creates a vibe that is all pervading and you feel it's affects as you move through it.

As we left our front row viewing gallery and tried our own feet out, other sides of beach life presented themselves. We came to a crowd gathered around a group of guys breakdancing and doing some pretty hardcore gymnastics for the audience. The MC was a funny guy too and we broke out a few bucks for them. The proliferation of shops selling bongs that verge on glass art sculptures was explained by a young man stood outside a doctor’s clinic next to a girl wearing a sandwich board (see photo), who politely informed us that if we stepped inside, filled out a medical questionnaire and passed the good doctor 150 dollars, he would evaluate us as being medically in need of marijuana. We would then skip happily upstairs to the 'Kush’ House, flash our permit and buy and smoke some government sponsored ganja! After repeating his pitch in a couple of different ways to the querulous and dumbfounded duo, a scandalised Kerry and Jez politely refused and continued on their way. After all $150 is a mighty expensive high for our two days left in the country! We knew there had to be a reason that the locals look like a bunch of somnambulists: legal bud! God bless Obama and the Governator!!

Not everyone is completely chonged though, you’ve got open air weightlifting @ muscle beach where leather skinned beefcakes compete for supremacy. White Men Can’t Jump was filmed here so you’ve got an amazing vibe on the basketball courts along with volleyball and handball courts, all right on the sea front and well attended. The place is a voyeurs paradise, bursting with life and quirky characters. We walked back to the hotel as the sun was going down, watched a guy getting his chakras healed, Kerry got a henna tattoo and we capped the day off with another ice cold pitcher of ale.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1254756112/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1254756112/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1254756112/tpod.html Thu, 22 Oct 2009 08:20:36 -0400 Break for the Border!

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Hollywood, California, United States

I reckon it takes a good few months to really begin to know a city but on average you can get a pretty good bead on things in a couple of days. Los Angeles is not one of these cities. It's not that it's such a huge place but just that it sprawls FOREVER. As a result, no-one goes about on foot and this means endless freeways and incessantly high traffic levels that you hit when trying to get to ANYWHERE.

We were unaware of this on the morning we set off from Venice beach in the hope of running the gamut from Bel-Air to Hollywood, so had unknowingly but oh so predictably bitten off more than we could chew.

We began by following the coast through shabby and well lived in Venice beach and on through to Venice's gentrified, upmarket and palm-tree-lined sister, Santa Monica. Slightly further along we turned 90 degrees west and headed inland along Sunset Boulevard, which runs through Beverley Hills and into the heart of Hollywood.

At length the road wound up through the hills and we arrived at the J. Paul Getty Centre, which is a gigantic art museum, housed in a purpose built series of monoliths amid the verdant grounds. The museum is perched on a hill in the Santa Monica Mountains, looking over L.A. and out to sea.

We had nowhere near enough time to do justice to the whole four buildings, each of which contains different styles of Western art from the Middle Ages to the present, but had a good look around and enjoyed the peaceful and exquisitely conceived gardens, interwoven with sculptures and water features. The whole complex is constructed from Travertine (1.2 million square feet of it) which is a fossilized, textured stone that reflects the bright Californian sunlight, imparting the whole place with a luminous, ethereal glow. Overall an incredibly successful public space and a great example of modern architectural design and realization. And all free of charge!

And this is about as interesting as our day was destined to get. Next we hit Bel-Air, which is an estate on the edge of Beverley Hills where you have to be richer than God to live and all you see when you drive round is towering security gates, intercoms and maybe a mock roman column or two through the railings. Rodeo drive is an equally pointless venture, lined with flagship stores from every Italian fashion house and luxury label you can think of and the walking clientele featuring more botox plumped flesh per square inch than anywhere else in the world. Max-synthesised life.

So much exposure to plastic beauty and unreachable levels of wealth had left us hungry for Sushi and it just so happened that we found a great little place a little further down Sunset and made a quick pit-stop for a sashimi fix.

We spent at least half an hour driving around the hills behind Sunset Boulevard trying in vain to find a route to the Hollywood sign, thinking that a quality shot with the sign looming in the background would be cool. We got within about half a mile but were foiled by a fenced off broadcasting station and lack of time and energy to continue. We parked up in Hollywood which is basically a theme park and as plastic as anywhere else in this godforsaken shithole. Samuel L. Jackson, Marilyn Monroe and Darth Vader lookalikes prowl around, vying with each other to hawk their dubious photo services to the passing, camera toting tourists (us included!). I don’t know what I thought was going to be so cool about seeing Bette Midlers name on a faux gold star laid out on the pavement in front of a tat stall selling mugs and t-shirts. Nor an impression of Jim Careys hands in front Graumans Chinese Theatre. What a tacky mess it all is and none of the magic or mystique I had subconsciously come to expect from a visit here. The only way to make something out of the experience would have been to go into the Chinese Theatre and see District 9, which was showing at the time. Alas our parking metre was due to expire and a towed Chrysler is not much good now is it?

Of course this scathing attack is just another tract of my usual one-sided nonsense, based on our measly 4 or 5 hours on the ground and passed through my bias lens of unrealistic expectations. As ever, time was against us and given a week or two I bet L.A. has some marvellous nooks and crannies but no matter! We negotiated our way back through the endless traffic to our home and boon to the whole L.A. venture, Venice Beach!

Our schedule was to leave the next morning and make a break for the Mexican border and Tijuana, but after the day we’d had some serious beach time was definitely in order. So we took the executive decision to stay another day. This proved to be a very wise move.

]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1255552045/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1255552045/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1255552045/tpod.html Sat, 17 Oct 2009 12:36:48 -0400 Break for the Border!

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Tijuana, Baja California, Mexico

After managing to walk through the quietest and dodgiest area we could find, at dusk, in the industrial badlands of outer Tijuana, with all our belongings, we found our way to the Avenue Revolucion which is the main drag. We knew we had arrived when we came the end of a street and saw a 60ft high modern metal arch with a huge multi-coloured light box suspended in the middle by wires, which reads 'Bienvenidos Tijuana!'. Yes it is as tacky as it sounds.

At it's height in the 1920's during America's prohibition laws, Tijuana was a booking city where you could get anything, anytime. Now it seems dead, grubby and rundown. We saw virtually no tourists of any kind. Only large disco bars with plastic palm trees, emitting loud and bad electronic music made all the more harsh by the emptiness inside. Incessant hassle from the ageing custodians of old souvenir stalls selling sombreros, cheap cigars and cheap tequila. And amid the general tattiness and faded infamy, endless pharmacies. Pristine, shining white, glass paneled and for all the world like the cosmetic sections of department stores. Smiling in their starched white coats attendants wait to dispense. Next to them stand neat English signs displaying the rainbow of available drugs - Vicodin, Viagra, Valium, Oxycontin, diet pills etc. etc.

It seems as though the double whammy of swine flu and the global economic downturn has hit Tijuana hard, but let's face it, drug addictions are pretty much recession proof and it's a short drive from the US to a place where you don't need a prescription...

We dropped our bags at the Hotel Caesar, where the famous salad was reputedly improvised one night in 1924, but couldn't find the restaurant. Probably shut down. by now 8.30pm we crossed back over the pedestrian bridge spanning the Rio Grande (the natural border separating Mexico and America which is really nothing more than a trickle of polluted water) and made an attempt to book our onward journey down to La Paz, the capital of Baja, right near the bottom of the long peninsula. We were toying with the masochistic idea of bussing it the whole 24 hours to save money but with no translator we soon gave up and decided to try for a two hour flight in the morning.

Off we toddled to find some tequila! We'd been in the country for two hours and our lips weren't even wet! We found a small bar where the clientèle all sat gawping at the TV watching Mexico versus Honduras in the World Cup qualifier and sat outside. Two shots, served with lime and a salt shaker. Two cerveza and the accompanying salsa and nachos. Nice. We made a quick attempt to locate another restaurant but ended up gravitating towards a friendly local pool/karaoke bar with another couple tequilas. Left there seriously hungry and a bit squiffy and pounced on the first food stall we came to that sold tacos.
One thing we really miss out on in the UK is decent street food. This one was a two person operation. The girl producing the tortillas from a ball of dough onto the griddle and the bloke taking care of the meat and taco construction on a bbq. The level of diner input is high. Once he hands you the taco the fun really begins. You have a choice of three different strengths of chili, some marinated in vinegar, or just the whole seared ones. Add to this marinated fried onion, guacamole, coriander, lime juice, cabbage, salsa - go crazy!
This sort of thing gets me quite excited and in my fairly hammered state I didn't even wait for my taco to be ready, I just followed the previous punter who I spied garnishing his plate and reached for a large green chili, which I disposed of in three hungry and as it turns out rash bites. Tasty! ERROR.
This was not your common o' garden pickled Jalapeño you might find on an average Subway sandwich or Domino's pizza. No, this was a king-hell motherfucker bent on taking out foolhardy gringos who were just a bit too keen. 15 seconds later tears were running down my face and the critter had induced hiccups as I frantically tried to gasp enough air to quench the fires raging in my mouth. Instantly sober but barely holding onto my sanity I clawed my way across to the 7/11 type store opposite and bought water. 20 minutes later I could face my now tepid Quesadilla : tortilla lined with cheese, chopped up beef, salsa and guacamole + sprinkling of herbs. Awesome.

We retired for the evening but that chili wasn't through with me a by a damn sight.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1252152739/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1252152739/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeznkez/3/1252152739/tpod.html Wed, 14 Oct 2009 18:05:08 -0400 Break for the Border!

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Tijuana, Baja California, Mexico

The day started smoothly enough, the Chrysler effortlessly easing through the busy traffic as we swept through the outskirts of L.A., past LAX and down towards Long Beach.

This last stretch of the Californian coast terminating in San Diego, however picturesque, quickly became annoying as it's a long series of beach towns, so you can never open up the throttle for longer than a few miles. Consequently, and in keeping with the rule I never seem to learn, the journey took longer then we thought.

We just made it to the drop off location at San Diego airport for the agreed time of 4pm and, after being cordially rinsed for the petrol and extra days hire, donned our rucksacks once again and jumped straight onto the conveniently located trolley (train) service which transported us through downtown San Diego and all the way to the Mexican border - San Ysidro!

Phase one of the mission was complete. We had made it to the border and were ready to cross over into bandit country, venturing into the lawless town of Tijuana. But first we had to cross the world's busiest land border crossing...

As you can imagine, it is an exercise in mass crowd control and is basically a large pedestrian overpass that you walk up while being monitored on CCTV. Once you've crossed over the road with the long lines of vehicles slowly edging along, you walk down the other side, through a turnstile and KAZOW! You’re in Mexico! Not so much as a metal detector or cursory examination of our passports or anything! We’re thinking, Jesus this has to be easiest border crossing ever! The guys with sub machine guns didn’t even flinch as we passed. There had to be a catch. We popped into the tourist info place and asked if we needed to fill out a travel permit or anything and sure enough he said that if we were travelling further into the country than Tijuana we needed to complete a temporary visa card. It was too good to be true. So off we trundled back to the non-descript white building which had an office at the end containing an unassuming but still burly, cookie-cutter customs official. They’re normally right in your face. They obviously believe in the concept of manana here in Mexico. We filled out the form and he sent us down to the bank hatch to pay our $33 each and then come back. This is when it went from the easiest to the most annoying ever border crossing. Let me explain.

We only had 20 bucks so proffered our credit card. Blank face. Don’t take credit cards, only cash. OK. Back to the customs geezer who tells us there's an ATM in TJ just over the way in the 'Caliente’. After getting used to travelling in style we’re not used to these heavy bags, so by now sweating profusely in the heat we headed through another turnstile and into town.

No longer in a first world country the contrast is large. Food stalls selling taco’s and stalls selling tat lined the small alleyway. Children begging for spare change. That smell I associate with Asia that comes from bad drains and cheap cooking fat. We found the Caliente sign and went in to a place that looked like a betting shop, extracting 50 bucks from the ATM. Walked back to the border and straight up to the same turnstile. Foiled. One way only – obviously! The penny quickly dropped that our only way was to cross back through the US side of the border and you just know it’s not manana time on that side!!! Slanted eyes monitored us as we cued up with the gringos and rancheros, laden with heavy bags that for all the customs guys knew contained kilos of pure cocaine, hand grenades and Semtex. Baggage x-ray, metal detector, and a detailed interrogation on why we were entering the US. The farcical yarn we were trying to lay on them wasn’t washing or even registering. Once again, ‘Where have you been in Mexico?’. ‘We just went across to get cash!’ Met with unbridled suspicion.

After half an hour we were let through but still could almost feel the high powered rifle sights trained on us as we made our way once again over the pedestrian walk way.

Got back to the customs guy again, told him what we’d done and he just started laughing gleefully. ‘Why didn’t you just come back under the bridge?’ ‘Cause you didn’t tell us cockmichael!!!!’





Ahh well it's all part of the fun and games that come with not speaking the lingo, and our appallingly low levels of Spanish were going to prove disabling and frustrating over the next 2 weeks......
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