BajaNomad - Earliest Memories of First Mexico Visit?

Earliest Memories of First Mexico Visit?

Bajafun777 - 7-8-2007 at 10:31 PM

Ok, I was thinking about the very first time I went into Mexico and about how old I was. My first memory was when I was about 6 years old and I remember it well because my mother kept telling me to make sure I held her hand at all times or I could be stolen. Well, that thought of being stolen kept my eyes and ears open when we drove across the bridge from Laredo to Nuevo Laredo. As we drove across the bridge young kids were diving off the bridge for coins people would throw for them to dive for. It looked pretty far down and I thought the kids were really brave to dive off that bridge. Once we got waved through Mexican customs we parked and started into the street shops. Yes, I had hold of my mothers hand tight, as there were a lot of people. Women kept coming up and rubbing my head, smiling, laughing, and talking to my mother. It seems since I had blond hair and blue eyes they took a fancy to me. My mother said they liked to rub my head for good luck because of it being blond. I remember the meat being hung on hooks for people to pick what they wanted and the butcher cutting that piece of meat off of the whole piece hanging. I really liked looking at all of the colorful wood pieces and puppets that they we selling. Now, I also liked coke and that was something my mother would let me have when we were walking around, as she definately did not want me drinking the water and it cost 5 cents then in the little coke bottle. We also got some ice cream and I thought what a great place, as in the States I would not have gotten these sweets as easy as I did in Mexico. I guess I held my mother's hand well and she wanted to reward me and keep me on track doing the same thing. I also loved the bakery that we went into and the bread being fresh and hot so goooood :bounce:

. I also got to eat the mexican sweet bread and I can still taste it, as it was all just good eating stuff. That was my first and never my last visit, as I continued even without my parents when I got into junior high, high school, and college but those are different experiences :lol:

. I will just keep thinking about those experiences and maybe share some at later times :saint:

. I hope others have memories of their first time heading South and how it was remembered by them. Later, bajafun777

Osprey - 7-9-2007 at 06:58 AM

Just want to get this in early (before the rush). My first trip to Mexico was with Francisco de Ulloa (I called him Paco) a Spanish buddy of mine. I remember it like it was yesterday but it was October 1539. We took off from Acapulco in his boat "Aventura", sailed north through some weird lookin water full of algae -- he kept saying "mar es muy bermejo" I spoke little Spanish then and it was years later that I found out he was saying the Sea was a reddish color (vermillion). The trip was nice (all the way up to Mag Bay) but the food was lousy and he didn't let us catch lobster -- said they were bugs, we couldn't eat em.

Don Alley - 7-9-2007 at 07:11 AM

With my mother, 1961...

My first Mexico memory of that trip was flying in to Mexicali to clear customs. All the houses in Calexico, many with swimming pools, and the line (border) past which few houses had even roofs. Quite the abrupt contrast.

Taco de Baja - 7-9-2007 at 07:16 AM

I remember several, like going to the Estero near Ensenada before it was built up, catching the fiddler crabs, digging for clams....Also going to the palm canyons west of the Laguna Salada - rock scrambling, hiking up canyons, not sure of the exact dates though, probably in the 5-6 age range (early 1970's).

I also remember hiking into Mission Santa Maria with the San Diego chapter of the Sierra Club when I was 5. Catching frogs, finding pottery, looking for arrow heads...all the things little boys like to do. I also clearly remember the Mission itself and the out building and thinking it was very neat that they were so old and still around.

I have been going on Baja several trips with my sister and here two kids (now aged 3 and 5) and I hope they will have similar fond memories. :bounce:

woody with a view - 7-9-2007 at 07:17 AM

'79, dithching 9th grade to go surfing at baja malibu or popotla with Jerry L and Marty J. rounding the curve by the powerplant and seeing the sun peek over the flat mountain east of rosarito.

eating at "edwardo's" at the south end of rosarito (not there now). Sal was the owner. he was a little jewish guy who had the best cheese ever. said he got it in san ysidro :?:

......

damn good times!

R.I.P. Sal :saint:

y Jerry

Taco de Baja - 7-9-2007 at 07:18 AM

Quote:

Originally posted by Osprey
Just want to get this in early (before the rush). My first trip to Mexico was with Francisco de Ulloa (I called him Paco) a Spanish buddy of mine. I remember it like it was yesterday but it was October 1539.

Now that's a early memory! :lol:

Memories,a ton

baitcast - 7-9-2007 at 07:33 AM

If you don,t count my early runs to TJ while in the navy 1963 finds myself,wife,two little girls and a friend in a VW bus on the road to Gonzaga bay

Memories you bet a ton,it was july no AC,but I think we were tougher then,we as a family speak of it often now mostly with a smile on our face,the heat,road,the digging,celebrating on top of the last climb with a can of peachs,meeting PaPa and the Fernandez clan,my daughter riding a live turtle,I could go on for hours about that first trip but alas I have a cramp in my finger :lol:

BAITCAST

It is acceptable to abuse one,s equipment as well as one,s body in the pursuit of that ultimate hookup.

David K - 7-9-2007 at 07:34 AM

First Baja trip memories from 1965 when my parents took me to Bahia San Luis Gonzaga in their Jeep Wagoneer...

I recall we stopped in San Felipe for bakery items... How rugged and steep the road was (carved from the volcanic cliffs) south of Puertecitos... How big the sand beach was at Gonzaga (we camped about a mile south of Alfonsina's).

The next year (1966) we did the 'big trip': Tijuana to Cabo San Lucas... lot's of memories of that 2 week adventure. Pavement ended north of Colonet, started again about 100 miles north of La Paz, ended again 10 miles south of La Paz... Drove into the fish cannery town of 'San Lucas' on a single track dirt road... The Hacienda Hotel was the only resort there and planes landed on the salt flat that is the harbor, today! To get home faster, we took the ferry to Mazatlan.

Photo of me (8 1/2) and my first dorado, off Cabo San Lucas...

[Edited on 7-9-2007 by David K]

1stDorado.jpg - 50kB

Oso - 7-9-2007 at 07:56 AM

The Blue Fox. 17 yrs old. Nuff said. :saint:

Ken Bondy - 7-9-2007 at 08:14 AM

An excerpt from my "book" that seems to fit here:

"I think I was a Mexican in another life. I have a strangely powerful attraction for Mexico and all things Latin. The attraction is particularly strong for that part of Mexico known as Baja California. Perhaps it was just proximity; I grew up in the Los Angeles area, less than 200 miles from the Mexican border. I can’t remember exactly how I got interested in Baja (the other life, maybe?) but I started going to Tijuana shortly after high school. I am uncomfortable admitting this, but one of the initial attractions I had to Latin culture was bullfighting. I was a huge Hemingway fan and “Death in the Afternoon” was a strong influence. The Latin pageantry, the whole spectacle of the Tijuana “Bullring by the Sea” grabbed me—but eventually the brutality and cruelty of the “corrida” outweighed the fun parts of the afternoon and I lost interest. I do remember loving the cultural shock of crossing the border, the mostly friendly chaos of the Tijuana streets, the drive out Calle Segunda to Playas de Tijuana, the colors, the smells of the mesquite fires. It was amazing that everything could be that different by just passing a few feet over some imaginary line. It was an attraction for me that would last a lifetime.

I made my first trip to the southern part of the peninsula in the late 1960s. It was a fishing trip to the classic “east cape” resort Rancho Buena Vista. On that trip we flew commercially to La Paz, and then took an air taxi flight in a high-wing single (I think it was a Cessna 206 or 207) from La Paz airport to the dirt strip at Buena Vista. The experience was literally life-changing for me—flying in a small airplane, landing on a dirt strip, the first taste of the Sea of Cortez where the desert just became ocean—the whole “Baja experience” back when it was still young, simple, and pristine. Back then Cabo San Lucas was a dusty little village. When I got back I started collecting and reading everything I could find on Baja California. I went crazy over Ray Cannon’s classic book “The Sea of Cortez.” Baja would become a major part of my life and experience for the next 40 years; it remains so today.

I learned to fly in the early 1970s and earned my private pilot’s license in 1973. Within a year I had my instrument and multiengine ratings. Baja influenced my decision to take flying lessons. I knew flying would open up my access to the peninsula, making everything easier to get to and in much less time. In 20 years of flying I eventually logged over 1,700 hours, flying a wide variety of single-engine airplanes (Cessna 150, 152, 172, 177, 182, 210, Beechcraft Bonanzas F33, V35 and A36) and several multiengine airplanes (Beechcraft Travelair and Duchess, Piper Aztec.) In 1979 I bought a beautiful 1963 Beechcraft Baron, and in the next ten years logged over 1,000 hours in it, more than half of my total time. The Baron was like a family member.

My four kids kind of grew up in Baja. They loved Baja and the Mexicans loved them. The kids all thought they were Mexican…eventually that had to be explained. There were several places we particularly enjoyed and visited often—Hotel Punta Pescadero on the “east cape” near the southern end of the peninsula, Meling Ranch in the mountains north of San Quintin, and the cities of Loreto and La Paz.

But our favorite place was Punta San Francisquito, “PFQ” for short, a small basic Sea of Cortez resort about halfway down the peninsula on what must be one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. With a difficult drive on marginal dirt roads it is accessible by land (we have driven in several times in recent years) but it is known primarily as a “fly-in” place. We made over 100 flying trips there from the mid 70s to the mid 90s. We would make it down to San Francisquito for long weekends at least once a month in the summers. We could be there in less than 4 hours from Van Nuys airport, where I kept the Baron. Driving takes two full days. We kept a locker there, with two inflatable boats, scuba tanks, a small compressor, and an ungodly stash of fishing, diving, snorkeling and other beach, camping, and kid gear."

++Ken++

David K - 7-9-2007 at 08:17 AM

That is wonderful Ken! Thank you!!!

Hey David--you were a cute kid!

Baja Bernie - 7-9-2007 at 09:10 AM

Oso...............you were never what people normally call a kid! Me neither! :biggrin:

dean miller - 7-9-2007 at 09:31 AM

First trip ...

December 1951--to Ensenada

Looking for clean clear water for spear fishing

Discovered clean clear water that was 20 degrees colder that the water in sothern California. Was very disappointed

Ensenada was a small muddy fishing villiage...top attractions was Gordos, Victors, Hussongs & Jack Dempsey's closed hotel.

SDM

Fond Memories of Early Baja Days

MrBillM - 7-9-2007 at 09:39 AM

Like Oso, I also have fond memories of the wonderful decadence of Tijuana starting at age 5 in 1950. After that, I made countless trips with my father to take in the Horse/Dog Racing at Agua Caliente and, in the evening, the Jai Alai Games at the Fronton Palace in addition to the wandering through the "Skin" bars on Avenida Revolucion.

Probably the most memorable trip of my youth, though, was in Ensenada at age 14 where we had gone for a fishing trip with a Gringo who had a house there. A great day of fishing was followed by an even better night of drinking and carousing with two working Chicas at Daddy's expense. My youthful dreams come true.

The only problem with the Blue Fox was that it was always over-crowded. Fortunately, There were plenty of competing entertainment venues.

Those WERE the Good Old Days.

[Edited on 7-9-2007 by MrBillM]

capn.sharky - 7-9-2007 at 10:34 AM

" trips with my father to take in the Horse/Dog Racing at Agua Caliente" Bill M--me too! Caliente was the only track on the west coast that you could bet off track. You are about a year younger than I am. Did you bet the 5-10? We stayed for the dogs at night and I always seemed to do better on them than the horses in the day. Remember the burro at the Blue Fox? Club Macambo was my favorite hangout. I'll bet you even have a picture of you in the cart with the striped donkey in front. You will be the one wearing the huge sombrero with "Tijuana" written on it. Ah yes, those were the days my friend.

pappy - 7-9-2007 at 12:54 PM

ensenada, camped at the estero catching the fiddler crabs, hangin' out on the deck of an old, sun tattered wooden boat. gnarly rash on torso next day:-itched like hell. it was fiberglass strands from deck of old boat...best trip of my young life nonetheless. started a love affair with that penninsula....1968.....

Caliente Off-Track

MrBillM - 7-9-2007 at 01:31 PM

Ah, Memories.

In February 1955 on my 10th Birthday weekend, I went out to Santa Anita on the back of my Father's Old Harley. Thanks to Swaps winning the Santa Anita Derby, my dad won a bunch. After drinking all day, it seemed like a good idea to him that we'd ride down to Tijuana to take in the racing at Caliente on Sunday. The thing I remember most about that ride South is freezing my butt off and being miserable sitting on that tiny passenger pad for hours. Sunday at Caliente, he won again and decided to stay around and bet the U.S. races, eventually losing just about everything by Tuesday.

I always enjoyed the Jai Alai games more than the Dogs. One reason might have been that the Best Hamburgers I ever tasted were served at the Palace Snackbar for 25 cents. The games were actually pretty exciting, too, and it took longer to lose money. I think they were just as crooked as some of the Horse races. We were cheering once because we had picked both of the final players in the Quiniela and couldn't lose regardless of finish. They disqualified one of the players for stepping on to the court too soon. Lost Again.

I played the 5-10 many many times. Never won, of course.

[Edited on 7-9-2007 by MrBillM]

BajaMe.jpg - 20kB

Ken Bondy - 7-9-2007 at 02:08 PM

Great thread. Mas recuerdos de Baja:

"For five or six years in the early to mid 80s one of the San Francisquito employees was a magnetic, good-looking young Mexican kid named Savino. At one time I am sure I knew his last name, now I can’t remember it and I can’t find it in any of my notes. He was probably in his early twenties when we first met him. Our kids really liked him. Savino did everything, he was a master mechanic, fixed everything that needed fixing, and he was a decent bartender (although I don’t think I ever saw him do any cooking.) But his main skill was as a world-class fisherman. He handled the pangas with great skill, and he knew where to find the fish. He could approach a boiling school of yellowtail from just the right angle and stop at just the right point without disturbing them. When there was no action on the surface he generally knew where to find them down deep. Even when we kept our own little fleet of two inflatable boats there, we would still often go out with Savino in one of the PFQ pangas, because he was such a good fisherman and so much fun to be with. Most of our memorable stories from San Francisquito seem to involve Savino.

One afternoon at PFQ we saw a huge cloud of birds working several miles out off the north point, maybe a third of the way to Isla San Lorenzo. The birds were too far for the inflatables, so we rousted Savino from the bar and headed out in one of the PFQ pangas. When we got to the boil it was amazing; the ocean was exploding. Every imaginable marine animal was there eating—shoals of small fish were blasting out of the water, birds were wheeling and shrieking above and in the water, and the yellowtail were so thick you could walk on them. Hundreds of dolphins were breaking the surface, graceful thresher sharks were launching themselves completely out of the water, and even a pod of pilot whales was there. It was late summer and the presence of dolphins on the surface suggested yellowfin tuna below, so we dropped the jigs down below the yellowtail, and were immediately rewarded with four heavy hookups. When the first tuna showed color, we realized with horror that we were without a gaff. That was no big problem with the first three fish; they were in the 20-25 pound class and, with some effort, could be “bounced” into the boat with just the rod. Not so with the last one, that fourth fish was big.

The big fish was being fought by a close friend, now gone, Frank Armellini. When we saw the fish we knew it would be a problem, we estimated his weight at about 70 pounds. Frank worked him carefully and after a forty-five minute struggle the big fish was on his side next to the panga. There was no possibility of “bouncing” a fish that big without breaking the line; he had to be hauled in with bare human hands. I heroically volunteered to do it. The aft body of a yellowfin tuna, even a big one like this, narrows to a relatively small diameter just forward of the sharply forked tail. With this fish it was about the diameter of the skinny end of a baseball bat. That allows a fairly decent two-handed grip. I figured that would be better for hauling him in than by grabbing him by the gills, because the gill covers have sharp edges and don’t offer as good a grip as the tail. All that was good logic, but I forgot to take one thing into consideration, buoyancy. Hundreds of years ago a real smart guy named Archimedes discovered that an object in water is acted on by an upward force equal to the weight of the water it displaces. Since the density of the tuna was about the same as the water, he was virtually weightless when he was completely submerged. So it was easy to get some of him out of the water, but the more of him that came out of the water the heavier he got. When I had half of him out of the water, I was lifting damn near 40 pounds. So I found myself in this crazy rocking cycle with the fish—leaning over the gunnels of the panga I would pick up as much weight as I could, the panga would tilt over to my side as the weight increased, and each time I reached my strength limit the tuna would slip back into the water. We did several cycles like this. I just couldn’t lift him over the side. I was getting harassed and ridiculed, of course, by the other laughing occupants of the panga, and this didn’t help my temperament. Finally I managed to squeeze out a great shot of adrenaline, and with one mighty heave, I hauled him over the side. In doing that I of course fell over backwards and the fish, now rested, landed on top of me and started thrashing. It was quite a scene, me on my back embracing this wildly gyrating yellowfin tuna. Lures, poles, beer, oars, tackle boxes, shoes, hats, and people scattered in all directions. But after all that work I was not to be denied. The fish finally calmed down and I was able to roll it off of me and into the bottom of the panga. And after this incredible selfless effort, can you believe I was subjected to even more laughter and ridicule. But the battle was won. The great fish weighed 75 pounds and made magnificent sashimi. None of us, including Savino, ever again forgot a gaff.

My dear friend Jim Bailey and I kept two inflatable boats there in a locker. Both were Metzelers, superb pieces of German equipment, one a twelve footer called (by Metzeler) a “Maya,” and a bigger one, a sixteen footer called, appropriately, the “Elefant.” Our drill, after coming back in from fishing or diving or whatever we were doing on the water that day, was to haul the boats up on the beach to a point well above the high tide line where it would remain overnight. One afternoon we hauled the bigger boat, the Elefant, up to a point which we thought was safe, and proceeded with the evening festivities. In the morning the boat was gone. We had substantially underestimated an extreme high tide, and sometime during the night, the water reached the boat, and the Elefant floated away. The morning was beautiful, warm and clear with virtually unlimited visibility, the sea was brilliant blue and dead calm, and there was no Elefant in sight. Frank Armellini was flying the smallest airplane that trip, a Cessna 172, he had plenty of fuel (none was available then at PFQ), and so Frank volunteered to do an aerial search for the boat. We talked to Savino who felt, based on his knowledge of the currents, that it would most likely have drifted to the south. So Frank took off in the 172 and headed south; it didn’t take him long to find our Elefant. It was drifting about five miles offshore and, amazingly, about ten miles south of where it had started, sometime in the night. Frank spotted the location of the boat using landmarks on the coast, and headed back. Savino fired up the panga and Bailey and I headed for our drifting, crewless boat. It was right where Frank said it would be, and Bailey and I boarded it to bring it home. Savino waited until the engine, a Johnson 25 hp, lit off, and then both boats headed back north to PFQ. On the way back we passed huge boils of yellowtail working on the surface, and since we still had fishing tackle on board, managed to land a few for the day’s ceviche. Our haul-out protocol changed that day; from that point on we tethered the boats to the center pole of a palapa so they wouldn’t ever again wander away in the night.

Savino spoke very little English, about the same as we spoke Spanish. In reality our Spanish was probably a little better than his English. But we clearly communicated. He would often join us in the late evenings when his work was done, in front of our cabana. With the fire almost out, after everybody had eaten and drank and most of the guests and staff were asleep, we would lie on the sand contemplating cosmic things, and finish off the beer or the tequila. We would look at the stars and babble away in some half-Spanish, half-English form of marginally spoken language. It didn’t matter too much what was said or understood, it was just fun to have him around. One night he started telling me and Bailey about his greatest dream, to buy a panga of his own, take it to Bahia de Los Angeles, and be an independent fishing guide up there. But he lamented that he would probably never have enough money to buy a panga of his own. I remembered all this, and wishing him well in his quest for a panga, just before I fell asleep. After I fell asleep Bailey continued wishing him well, and those wishes included asking him how much a panga might cost. About US $2,000, Savino replied. Bailey, kind, emotional, and generous soul that he is, told Savino that he and I (“I” being now sound asleep) would be glad to give him the money to buy the panga. Savino was overcome with gratitude; he just couldn’t believe our generosity. Neither could I, when in the morning Bailey sheepishly informed me that I owed Savino $1,000. Hearing the whole story, how could I refuse? After all, Bailey told me that Savino offered us both free fishing for life. What a deal! It would save us thousands in the long run. So that morning we each wrote Savino a check for $1,000. Mine came back, cleared through an Ensenada bank, in my bank statement about 4 months later, covered with magnificent flowing endorsements, signed by at least 10 Mexican bank officials and with several American bank stamps.

It was not a good investment, and the story, so full of promise, has a sad ending. Savino did eventually go to Bahia de Los Angeles, but he never bought the panga. He used the money for something else. Others who knew him in Bahia told me he got involved with drugs. Eventually he got in trouble with the police and ended up in jail, for a long time, in Ensenada. What a waste of a beautiful young life."

++Ken++

Si, yo recuerdo

Sharksbaja - 7-9-2007 at 02:16 PM

1958>The small children peddling Chiclets for a penny in TJ. Shopping for pottery at the roadside tiendas en route to stay at the Rosarito Beach Hotel. A very special destination.
I can recall the wondrful little curio stores filled with colorful sombreros, switchblades and sweet smelling leather goods.
I can't forget the wretched smells and flowing roadside sewage that signaled your arrival in Mexico. Nor can I forget the extreme poverty and the decrepid living conditions for thousands.
How could I forget the wonderful exit with vendors passing by our car windows with statutes of Jesus and other interesting goods and items.
I miss the days when clams and crabs were along many stretches of the beaches. Oh my, how it has changed there!

danaeb - 7-9-2007 at 07:49 PM

Let's see....

I was about six , mid 50's. It usually involved a visit with relatives. I think my parents liked being the bohemians so they would always show off their knowledge of TJ. It was daring! It was slightly scary for the relatives! I don't remember all of it, but it always seemed to include La Especial for lunch (and c-cktail for the adults), after which they'd all give the kids a couple of dollars to spend on the tourist bric-a-brac down the steps in the big arcade. But man, for a kid, what you could buy with those dollars: plaster piggy banks, castenets, maracas, dios mio - a kid's paradise!

BAJACAT - 7-9-2007 at 09:08 PM

Don't have one I was born in MEXICO
But I can tell you guys my firts visit to the states.I was In front of a Burger king Menu, and when the ask me"what are you going to order I reply QUE?.I did'nt understand a word that girl was saying. And still don't :lol:

Sharksbaja - 7-10-2007 at 01:43 AM

I was prompted to recall a few more mental snapshots in time. I really recall the different smells. As a child the smell of life was omnipresent. They say that smells program your brain permanently and can't be forgotten. In other words, once you smell something you'll always remember that smell shall it come by your way, even in 50 yrs.
So now when I happened along the Toll Road last year the bad smell triggered that "been there-done that" response in my mind. Yes it did smell bad that day. I've no idea how many days a year Rosarito Beach area reeks, but that familiar smell etched into my brain decades ago briefly reared it's ugly head
Listen up Mr. Trump!

On the other hand I had an epiphany 3 or so yrs ago. I was driving along Hwy 1 and the sweet smell of mesquite smoke wafted thru my vehicle. I suddenly remembered that smell from the same area from 35 yrs earier. :wow:

I was really into jewelry and fireworks in my late teens. TJ was a wonderful place to shop. Most store owners would bargain with Americans and many touted about their skill in getting a great deal thru their method. It's true and stll is today. You CAN get a deal through bargaining many times. I doubt the new Home Depots and others will subscribe to that . :lol:

Back when California was less flammable, we filled our shopping list in TJ. I was in heaven when the the store owner showed me his fireworks for sale in the back. I went back north with cherrybombs and crackerballs. We eventually located other merchants who could help us out with other firecrackers. I loved em even though they had a fair share of duds. They were all loud though and contained a goodly amount of flashpowder. They kicked arse when they worked. Some mean M4000 or whatever with plastered ends. Giant oversized firecrackers baring dual fuses. Trianglular firecracers you could fling like a frisbeee and those wonderful; little lady fingers who your friends dared you tolight and explode on the tip of your fingers.

What about the velvet art paintings that came about in the 60s. I remember as a boy looking into stores and seeing vibrant paintings of large breasted women. I really enjoyed the lack of censorship.

When my parents eventually figured I was old enough let me go shop on my own. My bounty always included a few things I would bring back. A few packs of "Horechit Cigarettes" remember...."Not a fart in a car load" , a couple fancy switchblades, a bullwhip or two and some fireworks.

Ah, the good ol' days. I have to admit tho, the Chinese fireworks are much more reliable. :biggrin:

Osprey - 7-10-2007 at 06:41 AM

On some of my early trips people would ask me to bring back fireworks for them. One time, couple days before a trip in my pickup to fish at Mulege my boss gave me $100 to buy him fireworks. The next morning I gave it back to him. He was a nice guy and I didn't want to say no, didn't want to show him disrespect so I said "Knowing how I am on these trips I would probably have spent your money, told you they confiscated the fireworks at the border, charged me $200 dollars in fines. You would have had to pay me the other $200, so you'ld be out $300 with no fireworks."

Crusoe - 7-10-2007 at 07:43 AM

Never Ever Forget.......1956. Was a dumb 15yo surfer kid that got roped into an amazing three week surfing trip to T.J.,Ensenada and San Quintin,with some older boys and friends of my older brothers who were 18 and 19 yo. Total of two vehicles and 7 very lusty lads. The trip changed me forever. Miles and miles of unpopulated beaches, great waves, whales and fish and sea life every where!!! Amazing amount of birdlife and butterflys. California Brown Pelicans flying everywhere in the sky. Almost free food and beer. Sleeping on the beaches at night time looking up at the stars. The big one is the culture schock. Every Mexican is smiling from ear to ear and they were so poor!!! Riding horses on the beach at San Miguuel and Estero. The shacks and shantys of T.J. and Ensenada. The little man with no legs who would push himself around Hussongs on a little creeper with is electric shock box and we would give him a dime and hold two steel prods one in each hand and he would turn up the juice. The skin bars. The bull fights. All the diversity of the street life on Revolcian Ave. Shops with all the loud blaring music would put me in a trance. A trance that effects me to this day, now 51 years later. Bieng able to travel the Baja Penninsula and be with the kind Mexican people and see it from the different eyes of a smallboat sailor, ocean kayaker and surfer and backpacker and explorer. There has been almost a trip every year, some for up to 8 months and some only one month, and mostly I feel I am just still at the begining stage.There is so much more to see. Baja is to me the most beautiful place I have seen in this world. I just hope we can protect all her natural beauty. They just are not making any more.

akbear - 7-10-2007 at 09:34 AM

It's all in here some where.
My first pair of cowboy booths in TJ for my 5th birthday in '53. Going to the panadera to buy shopping bags of rolls, sweets and treats. Walking horses at Caliente when I was 11 & 12 for my summer job. The peanut man outside the Jockey entrance selling newspaper cones of peanuts. Big strawberry sodas. Dog races & Jai Alai Games. I remember the hamburgers & the Red Caps that would place your bets for you. The Bar b Que. pork at the Shanghai restaurant in Mexicali.

I allmost forgot the Bongo Drums.

Can't wait to add a lot more new Baja California memories ! :coolup:

jimgrms - 7-10-2007 at 09:47 AM

1952 or so at 14 years went to san felipe with dad and uncle and cousin cousin and i each had 20'00 to spend dad and uncle went fishing me and cousin went exploring, found 2 brothels one was a converted stables and another one was' and were run out of themby the only cop in sf so foung a little bar on the hill by the where the lighthouse is ,where we partook of some quality mescall ended up kinka drunk and sick ,then we we wandering around downtown where the cop found us agail and told us to go to our hotel and stay, when i backtalked him he knocked me down and locked me up i the then s/f version af a slammer a converted box van w no wheels nor no any thing except locked doo spent about 9 hours in it , my dad could have got me out sooner, but diddn't . that taught me respect for the law , especislly in s/f

Halboo - 7-10-2007 at 10:42 AM

Hughes Aircraft brought my folks to Cali a couple years before I was born in '57 and we went to TJ, Ensenada and Rosarito pretty often when I was growing up.
I was one of those little blond headed kids the mamacitas love to dote over and I am pretty sure there is a picture of me on a painted burro in mom's photo pile.
Bullfights, fishing, shopping, the usual tourista stuff.
I have a really strong memory from when I was about 4 or 5 of a man in Tijuana who had no arms seated on a folded blanket on the sidewalk, weaving a basket with his feet. :wow:

In the 70' s when I was a swab I had an apartment in Imperial Beach for a couple years and spent every free minute in Baja surfing, wenching and eating lobster.....
:spingrin:

Martyman - 7-10-2007 at 12:51 PM

Around 1965 my family used to camp at half way house. Catching cabezone off the cliffs. Buying skyrockets, cherry bombs, Huaraches with the tire treads and maybe even a switchblade. I was only 10 so no skin bars. We used to go to the Jai Alai in TJ too. Very interesting and fed my love of Mexico.

tripledigitken - 7-10-2007 at 02:21 PM

This is my earliest.............

My parents and I went for a weekend trip to Ensenada. My Dad brought along a bachelor friend of his that he knew in the Navy stationed at North Island. I believe he was a Lt. Com. This was around 1956 and I was 8 years old.

I don't remember much of the trip except for when we were ready to come home my Dad's friend was missing. So we went on a tour of Ensenada looking for my Dad's friend Bill. Well after what seemed like a very long time from my then 8 year old memory we found him.....................sleeping in a booth at Chuey's Bar. :lol:

If there was more to the story I never found out.

That was a source of laughs for many years to come in our family.

Jeez I love Mexico.

Ken

Tijuana 1949

CaboRon - 7-13-2007 at 04:11 PM

Tijuana was always on the visiting list for family visitors from South Dakota. We lived in San Diego. And as always there was the photo on the burro to take home. This is my Mother, aunt Lucille and Me (Poncho age 4 ) in 1949. These trips were always great adventure.... and if we were lucky we would go all the way to Ensanada where Dad would buy a huge bucket of shrimp for five dollars ! Those beer batter shrimp frys back home are great memories . Of course, years later it was the fifty cent house specials at the Hotel Nelson that drew me for many a weekend of drunken stupidity :bounce:

Good Times ! :bounce:

CaboRon

[Edited on 7-13-2007 by CaboRon]

David K - 7-13-2007 at 04:30 PM

GREAT PHOTO RON!!!

CaboRon - 7-14-2007 at 08:43 PM

Quote:

Originally posted by David K
GREAT PHOTO RON!!!

You can thank my 92 year old mother for saving these old photos...... thank god for moms !!! :bounce:

CaboRon