Yikes – back in Mexico, walked back into the land of my mythical dreams. Sitting in the court-yard of the only Youth Hostels in Ensenada — I am enchanted again and again. Mexico gets under your skin. And into your heart. Crossing over the border was a breeze, and so was the day, nice and breezy blue skies. The crossing is over a long grated pedestrian bridge far above the traffic. I saw it as soon as I got off the Trolly, from San Diego. I just followed the crowd; this is the most crossed-over border in the world (according to my Lonely Planet). You cross the bridge and walk along a stone path between walls of brightly coloured murals, you don’t even have to stop to have your passport stamped — if you don’t want a visa to stay. I did, so I paid 20 dollars, got my stamp, and my visa is good for the next six months. You go through a turn style, walk a block, turn right, another block, turn left and there’s the ABC bus stop for Ensenada, and lucky me, there was the bus all ready to go – paid my money and hopped on the bus for an 1 1/2 hour drive along a cliff side road with emerald blue seas. Saw some big Purse seines setting their nets and snoozed a little too.
Like most Mexican towns, Ensenada is easy to find your way around because the streets running east and west are numerical. I got off the bus around 1′ clock and walked ten blocks south and 6 blocks east over ever crumbling sidewalks and ever thankful for the breeze I found this bright orange Hostel with no problem. Eighteen dollars a night, and cozy; sleeping in a bunk bed again reminds me of walking across Spain.
Thought I would get up in the morning and catch a bus further south – but, after an evening of a great meal — cooked for me by a lovely young man, and good smoke and conversation with the other hostlers … I am not moving today, and perhaps not even tomorrow. Quien sabes?
This is Jeremy – he cooked me dinner tonight … And, this is dinner: yum yum …