Anonymous - 5-29-2004 at 06:30 PM
http://www.abqjournal.com/venue/travel/181080travel05-30-04....
By Tom Harmon
Sunday, May 30, 2004
LA PAZ, Mexico? Actually, you can blame this whole trip on John Gould.
Several years ago, he came back from a visit to Baja, Mexico, raving about the little city of La Paz? or Peace.
Located on a quiet bay that opens to the turquoise waters of the Sea of Cortez, La Paz is popular with Mexican families on vacation, but it is too
quiet for most American tourists.
"We loved it," said Gould, a longtime Albuquerque resident who has traveled all over Latin America.
"We stayed at the Hotel Perla? the Pearl Hotel," he said. "The first night, we sat in the rooftop garden watching the sun go down, eating fresh
shrimp. The sun lit up the bay and reflected off all the fishing boats.
"I looked at my wife and I raised my glass: 'Let's cash in the 401(k),' I told her, 'and just live in La Paz until the money runs out.' ''
Ah, what a moment.
His wife, of course, smiled and said no. But the moment has remained vivid for me over the years? a picture postcard sunset at an old hotel in a city
that feels as if it's deep in Mexico, but is only a short flight from Los Angeles.
Last fall, I convinced my wife that La Paz? and the little Hotel Perla? would be the perfect place to spend a short vacation.
"If we don't like it," I told her, "we'll just blame the whole thing on John Gould."
The trip certainly didn't start out the way I had pictured.
As we boarded our Aero California flight at the Los Angeles airport, we had a rude encounter with the kind of Ugly Americans who think of Baja
California as a sort of endless spring break? a place "south of the border" where the rules no longer apply.
Two burly American fishing buddies were openly contemptuous of Aero California, which they called Airy Scary.
"Come on, Pancho, start the plane," one of them said loudly as we waited in our seats. He and his companion didn't seem to notice that the friendly,
bilingual Mexican flight crew could understand every word they were saying.
All that mattered to these guys was the great fishing they were going to do in the Sea of Cortez, and the beer and tequila they were going to drink in
the cantinas. Mexico and its people held no interest for them.
Two hours later, things turned somewhat comical as a taxi took us from the La Paz airport to our hotel.
Speaking over his shoulder as we headed into the city, the cab driver told us that the presidents of 21 nations were coming to an economic summit in
nearby Cabo San Lucas in a few days.
"Will you get a lot of taxi business?" my wife asked.
"Oh, no," he said in Spanish. "They only want the good cabs, with the good tires."
"Hmmmmm," we thought.
But all our anxiety vanished as the cab pulled up to the Hotel Perla. It was everything we had hoped for: at $69 a night, we had a lovely room on the
third floor with large windows overlooking the harbor.
Wide hallways with red-tiled floors led from one quiet courtyard to another, and the rooftop garden was just as our friends had described it.
At breakfast the next morning, in the hotel's ground-floor cafe, waiters wearing dark slacks and white aprons served plates of fresh fruit, Mexican
omelets and sweet bread. The cafe's open windows looked out on the malec?n, a broad promenade that runs along the water's edge. Palm trees and
frequent benches make it an inviting place to walk.
Even in October, it was warm in La Paz, but we decided to walk uphill from the waterfront to the historic heart of the city. After climbing for
several blocks, we reached the central plaza, with its white benches and shady gardens. What a welcome sight.
Our guide book, "Hidden Baja," dismissed the cathedral in the plaza as "a rather austere brick-and-stone edifice," but we found it lovely.
And inside, it was even better? cool and candlelit in the noontime heat. As we sat there, Mexican men and women came in to spend a few minutes of
their lunch hours in the dark interior, sitting or kneeling to replenish themselves before the long afternoon.
Under the shady laurel trees in the plaza, old men chatted on the benches and local people bought a lunchtime burrito or a delicous fruit popsicle,
called a paleta, from strolling vendors.
This was the Mexico we had hoped to see. The pace was slow. The faces were friendly. We could feel our own spirits being replenished.
When we returned to the hotel cafe for a late lunch, we were greeted like old friends by the three waiters: Frederico, el capit?n; Hugo, an older man
who went everywhere on a trot; and Enrique, a serious young man who clearly saw this job as a career.
The three of them took great care of us all weekend, in part because my wife and I were almost the only guests at the hotel. We were certainly the
only Americans. The tourist season in La Paz runs from November to May, when the temperatures drop and the gray whales ply the Sea of Cortez.
Strolling along the malec?n a few hours later, we were delighted to run into a boatman offering to take us out for a sunset tour of the harbor. This
was just our speed: about 4 mph. Many people come to La Paz for the deep-sea fishing or the kayaking or snorkeling or scuba diving. But we came to
relax. Poking around the harbor in Raul's comfortable boat sounded perfect.
Out on the water, we got a much better view of the little city than we had from shore. We were surprised to see resort hotels at the north and south
ends of town, each with a large anchorage for the American yachts that come down in winter.
As the sky turned pink and gold, we glided past the red-roofed governor's mansion and its seaside gardens. Farther north, we even got a peek at the
private beaches of La Concha Resort.
And then, around a bend, we came face-to-face with a PEMEX petroleum plant. Black smoke drifted from its tall stacks.
Raul quickly turned us back toward the sunset, and soon we were gliding between anchored sailboats toward the Hotel Perla.
He dropped us off at the beach right in front of our hotel, where a little fiesta was in progress on the malec?n. It was Saturday night, and the local
residents of La Paz were enjoying themselves.
We fell asleep with our bedroom windows open to the bay, listening to music and conversation and laughter.
For our second day we had planned to take the bus to the artists' colony of Todos Santos on the Pacific Coast, or perhaps to San Jos? del Cabo farther
south. Filled with galleries and restaurants, San Jos? is often compared to Santa Fe.
Cabo San Lucas would have been another possibility for a day trip, but we were in Baja for some peace and quiet. Cabo San Lucas is Baja's party town.
As we discussed our plans over breakfast, though, we slowly gave up on them. The bus trip would be an all-day undertaking, and a private driver would
charge us $85 each. The idea of renting a car in Mexico did not appeal to me.
Lingering over coffee, we found ourselves discussing all this with Frederico, Hugo and Enrique. Why not hire a cab and see a bit of La Paz, the
waiters suggested.
Perfecto.
For $25, a silver-haired cab driver named Narciso agreed to give us a tour. He turned out to be a great guide? a retired civil service employee who
spoke beautiful Spanish and enjoyed teaching us about his city.
He showed us everything, from the stylish Crowne Plaza resort at the south end of town to the dusty barrios that lie on the outskirts, right at the
edge of the desert.
We wanted to see more. Glancing at the guidebook, I asked Narciso how much he would charge to take us to Pichilingue, the deep-water port where you
catch the overnight ferries to Mazatl?n and other mainland cities.
For another $10, Narciso headed us north along the coast, through desert remarkably similar to southern New Mexico. We passed La Concha Resort at the
north end of town, and spotted several lovely swimming beaches alongside the road. (The waterfront in town is not recommended for swimming.)
The scene deteriorated as we passed the PEMEX refinery, though, and Pichilingue was nothing but a shipping terminal for ferries and freighters. This
was not the way we wanted to end our tour.
"How much more to Playa Tecolote?" I asked Narciso, looking at the guidebook.
"Cinquenta pesos m?s," he said. Another $5.
Done! The road narrowed, winding up and down cactus-dotted hills until it descended suddenly to a beautiful little beach with sparkling turquoise
water and gentle surf? Playa Tecolote, or Owl Beach. Fewer than 50 people were enjoying this paradise.
We hadn't even brought our swimming suits, but Narciso urged us to go wading. No hurry, he said, leaning against the side of the taxi and lighting a
cigarette.
On our last day, it really dawned on us how much we had missed on this get-acquainted trip.
The Sea of Cortez is world-renowned as a warm-water aquarium, teeming with 900 species of fish as well as whales, sea lions and turtles. Why didn't we
take the daily excursion boat to Isla Espiritu Santo, a wildlife refuge on a nearby island, for a little snorkeling or sea kayaking?
With a rental car, we could have visited all those hidden swimming beaches outside of town, or driven across the desert to explore Todos Santos or San
Jos?.
On this final hot afternoon, we could have rented a catamaran at La Concha and gone sailing around the bay.
So? am I blaming John Gould?
Not at all. This was an exploratory trip, and we approached it in a cautious mood. I insisted on keeping our itinerary conservative, because I wanted
few responsibilities.
And we did have fun.
In fact, at a lobster dinner on our last night I couldn't resist a little joke. I was thinking about the glowing report Gould had given us, and how he
had wanted to cash in his 401(k) and just live in La Paz. That had been in the late 1990s, when we all thought we were getting rich in Wall Street's
bull market.
Looking at my wife, I raised my glass.
"I like La Paz," I said. "Why don't we cash in my 401(k) and see if we have enough money to pay for this dinner?"
If you go:
RESTAURANTS:The waterfront district is packed with restaurants. We particularly enjoyed El Taste, an unfortunately named but delightfully located
seafood restaurant right on the malec?n. Carlos 'n Charlie's is a hit with most Americans, but we stayed outside. We should have gone inside the
Restaurante Bougainvillea, a highly recommended, upscale and romantic seafood restaurant on the waterfront. Instead, we tried the Bismark near the
plaza, because it is popular with local residents. The paella made us nervous.
OUTINGS: This is where we missed the boat, quite literally. If you go to La Paz, be sure to take some excursions. A must-see is Isla Espiritu Santo.
Protected from development, the island is a rich wildlife refuge surrounded by lovely coral reefs.