A Triumphant Return to the Village

 A Few Last Adventures in California

Time was growing short until Michael and I would be able to return to Ajijic.  Alex had a couple more tests he had to fulfill before they would put him on the transplant list even though he didn't need one, and they didn't know what caused it, and they didn't know if he'd need one in the future, but why not be prudent, yes?  They also pointed out that if he ever DID need one and we didn't complete the hurdles he would have to start from square one which we wouldn't wish on our worst enemy.  So, two more tests and he and Chico Rico will be headed South.

Ventura Highway in the Sunshine... Where the Days are Longer....

With Alex feeling perkier and Chico feeling more cooped up and Justin just wishing he could have some peace in the condo, we ventured further north to witness the surf culture of Ventura. It was splendid watching young, lithe things cavorting in frigid water with Great White Sharks and the occasional seal.  There's not much to tell since it is not a very substantive culture but we had a tasty meal, rapaciously inhaled salt air and went home happy.

Alex & Chico walked along the beach. Chico is beginning to lose his fear of the water (at least he will now let his feet get wet in the surf).

This balancing rock caught my eye...

as well as the many ground squirrels cavorting among the rocks on the beach.

I labelled this "Moby Rock" for the resemblance to a sperm whale's head.

The ground squirrels were definitely not malnourished.

This lucky surfer managed to get a wave all to himself.

Someone erected this cairn along the beach.

You can now see why the surfer above was lucky to get a wave to himself.

The Pits (La Brea Tar Pits that is)

We had never been to the La Brea Tar Pits and Museum.  I must say I had never really been that into tar but Michael was intrigued so, before we left town, we felt compelled to visit.  At first it was rather boring in that you merely stared at fenced off areas that looked like someone had thrown wet asphalt on the ground although it did smell worse than asphalt.  But it got very interesting when we reached the large "lake" (not that large, nor a lake, but substantial).  There the tar was really working.  Methane bubbles cropped up randomly around the pond and occasionally it would erupt and throw tar et al into the air. So, these ice age animals (all large and scary) would wander into the tar pits for whatever reason, get stuck and then the predators (more scary) would leap upon them as they were mired and would, in turn, become mired etc. etc.  This resulted in literally millions of bones being preserved in the tar pits.  The guy who owned the tar pits (they originally were used to extract oil) willed them to the city and the rest is history.  The museum has recreated these adorable creatures that Michael's photos will display.  My personal favorite was the dire wolf.  That was formidable.  So, photos again.

A recreation of a Colombian Mammoth in the museum.

A dire wolf fossil with the recreation of the dire wolf below.

                      So, So sinister, si?

Methane bubbling up from the tar lake.

A recreation of a mastodon stuck in the tar lake. The fencing to keep people from wandering into the lake prevented a totally clear shot.

A mastodon fossil gives you an idea of the size of these creatures.

A recreation of a saber tooth tiger attacking a giant sloth.

A pair of wooly mammoth fossils.

Au Revoir to a Favorite Spot

Chico Rico adores the Promenade along the Ocean in Santa Monica -- very near the spot where Whitey Bulger called home while on the lam.  So, we took him for a final trot to torture the ground squirrels and enjoy the ocean vista.  Thought we'd throw in a photo of this really incredible sculpture.

On one of our last visits to the Santa Monica Palisades we spotted this gnarly tree with beautiful flowers...

with roots (or are they branches) spreading out all around the base.

We also saw this intriguing wooden sculpture.

Huh?  Culver City is Cool?  Really?

Yep.  Now it's cool.  Things move fast in SoCal so you have to stay with the program.  Michael and I went for a lunch at our favorite French place and noticed some really excellent buildings that had gone unnoticed on our prior trips.  Here they are for your viewing pleasure.

We never did find out exactly what this building was, nor could I find out through Google.  It was not a deli.  A prize to the first person to identify it.

An iconic street clock that still keeps time!

The flatiron-shaped Culver Hotel opened in 1924 and housed the offices and vault of the city's founder, Harry Hazel Culver.

A Long and (Very) Winding Road.....

So, at long last we loaded up the old Subaru and girded ourselves for the drive back to Ajijic.  All we lacked was grandma roped in her rocking chair on the roof and we'd have been the Clampitts.   In deference to our age, and all we'd been through, we decided to take four days rather than three for the journey.  Day One entailed a very lengthy drive to Tucson where it was a refreshing 120 degrees. When you opened the car door it was like being hit with a sledge hammer.  One need only to drive from California to Arizona to see the glaring polarization which is our nation today.  California: everyone wearing a mask at all times in all places.  Arizona:  No one wearing a mask anywhere including the guy who was making our food at the restaurant.  It was a little unsettling.  We had a great time though having dinner with Charlie and his partner Jorge.  We've known Charlie virtually since he was born and are friends with his parents from back in Boston.  He is in Tucson now and is a wildfire fire fighter which is somewhat redundant but you know what I mean.  A very great guy as is Jorge.

Next day was cross the border time. This is always a little fraught with uncertainty.  If you arrive with your car packed to the gills with gringo toys such as computers, snazzy coffee makers etc. there exists the chance that the border agents in Mexico will insist you remove everything so that they can "inspect" it, demand receipts (which you will not have) and generally be a pain in the butt.  Or not.  Luckily, on this foray it was not.  We were pulled over but I gave him our tail of woe in my hideous Spanish and finally I believe listening to me was so painful that he just shooed me back in the car and waved us on.

We never paid a toll in Sonora (the state butting up to Arizona).  Why?  Because the locals have taken over all the toll booths and told the toll takers to go home because it is their turf now.  Many people assume these people are cartel but they are not.  The cartels have much bigger fish to fry.  We are actually not sure WHO these people are but they are quite polite.  You drive up to the toll booth and they are there with tin cans which they offer towards you.  You can drop in some coins and they will thank you.  Or you can shake your head "no" and they seem fine with that too. Our lack of curiosity about the identity of these people is testimony to how long we have lived here.  The longer you're here the less you need to know.  After a boring (we like it that way while traveling in Mexico) night in Ciudad de Obregon we headed out once more.

This statue (showing two different views) greeted us on our way to breakfast. the Yaqui indigenous people performed a deer dance representing the hunt.

On to Sinaloa.  Home to El Chapo, the Sinaloa Cartel and some really boring scenery.  Here was one of the few instances where I had a few worries/fears/doubts/fill in the blank.  Twice we were slowed to a stop at checkpoints.  This happens a lot in Mexico but always you see "officers" wearing uniforms (different ones-- it is impossible to keep track --but they ARE uniforms) and they have official looking cars, armored vehicles, tanks etc. alongside the road. At these two checkpoints there were no uniforms nor official cars.  Just guys in black pants and shirts pulling over every truck and bus and ransacking (well searching?) them.  We scooted slowly past with our eyes averted.  I expressed my concern to Michael who said, "No worries.  Didn't you see the Mexican flag on the sleeves of their shirts?  They must be real."  I pointed out that the guy who pumps our gas at the PEMEX station has the same flag on the same shirt.  "HMMMMM... you have a point," Michael said.  Drive on.

On the last night on the road we pulled into Mazatlan which is one of our favorite towns.  We had a room at a Best Western (don't gag) that dated from the '40s and was all gussied up with murals and original stuff and which was very neat.  We had a balcony overlooking the Ocean and Malecon and it made up for all the boring scenery (if you can call it that) that we had endured for days.  Refreshed and ready to get home we hit the trail once more and by late afternoon ascended the mountain into Chapala with a horizon to horizon view of the Lake. It is always at that moment that I realize we are truly back home.  So, it's been great seeing all our friends (well, Delta has been a bummer but we manage to be careful) and settling back into our old life.  Alex and Chico will arrive this week and then we can all just relax and wait for this damn plague to recede.  Take care, be safe and have as much fun as you can.  Could be a while until another blog.  They have cancelled EVERYTHING here and this is usually our most fun season.  Sigh.....

These three photos show the magnificent views from the rooftop of the Best Western.

Sitting on our balcony we saw this drone (note the loudspeaker) fly by. We could not quite understand what it was trying to warn the people along the Malecon about (possibly mask up).

Another beautiful Pacific sunset from our balcony.

We felt this rainbow was an auspicious sign on our return to our abode.

These views from our terrace reminded us why we love living here so much. It was great to finally be back home!

Adieu our friends.  And relatives.  Et al.  Have a good Labor Day if you are of the American persuasion but for God Sake do not go running around, merging with other humans and cavorting.  Maybe next year...maybe.