Trip to BOLA in progress

Maybe... Or maybe not... Like the characters of this 2002 essay Miraculous Air said, "this is complicated":

***The Bahía de los Angeles was swimming with islands: tiny guano-bright hillocks, a massive volcanic cone, and one -- Angel de la Guardia (Guardian Angel) -- so vast it looked like a swath of mainland, strangely near. The town of Bahía de los Angeles, however, was a pitiful thing, far off in the distance, a clutch of cinderblocks like a splotch on the southern cup of the bay.

The road descended. A trio of vultures circled as we passed through the garbage dump. And then, hard against the barren shore, we came to the string of ramshackle houses and ramshackle RV parks.

Guillermos RV Park had a room behind the office. It was fairly clean, only three c-ckroaches (thumb-sized, belly-up) on the bathroom floor. But there was no water or light until 6 p.m. The deal was, water and light from 6 p.m. to 4 a.m., and from 6 a.m. to 11 a.m. Twenty- five U.S. dollars, cash in advance.

Outside, by the water, lingered a smell, faint but rank, something not unlike raw sewage with limburger cheese. A pack of dogs lazed in the sand. Some tables were set up beneath a palapa. A group of Americans was getting trashed on margaritas.

So this was it, the famous, beloved by Baja Buffs, "Bay of L.A." ***

(As it turned out later, the smell was from the dead whale on nearby beach).



Read and enjoy.

In defense of my beloved BOLA I have to say that there is now permanent - or almost permanent - electricity in some of those ramshackle houses and camps.

[Edited on 3-18-2013 by Alm]

Quote:

Originally posted by Alm Quote: Originally posted by chuckie BOLA is under appreciated... Maybe... Or maybe not... Like the characters of this 2002 essay Miraculous Air said, "this is complicated": ***The Bahía de los Angeles was swimming with islands: tiny guano-bright hillocks, a massive volcanic cone, and one -- Angel de la Guardia (Guardian Angel) -- so vast it looked like a swath of mainland, strangely near. The town of Bahía de los Angeles, however, was a pitiful thing, far off in the distance, a clutch of cinderblocks like a splotch on the southern cup of the bay. The road descended. A trio of vultures circled as we passed through the garbage dump. And then, hard against the barren shore, we came to the string of ramshackle houses and ramshackle RV parks. Guillermos RV Park had a room behind the office. It was fairly clean, only three c-ckroaches (thumb-sized, belly-up) on the bathroom floor. But there was no water or light until 6 p.m. The deal was, water and light from 6 p.m. to 4 a.m., and from 6 a.m. to 11 a.m. Twenty- five U.S. dollars, cash in advance. Outside, by the water, lingered a smell, faint but rank, something not unlike raw sewage with limburger cheese. A pack of dogs lazed in the sand. Some tables were set up beneath a palapa. A group of Americans was getting trashed on margaritas. So this was it, the famous, beloved by Baja Buffs, "Bay of L.A." *** (As it turned out later, the smell was from the dead whale on nearby beach). Read and enjoy. In defense of my beloved BOLA I have to say that there is now permanent - or almost permanent - electricity in some of those ramshackle houses and camps. [Edited on 3-18-2013 by Alm]