Taking on Ensenada with Bad Bobby P.
San Diegans during my time in the coastal city paradise, a time when all of us along that precious beach corridor accepted that “No life existed east of I-9,” considered Baja and Ensenada an extension of the state of California. That is to say, “ours.”
A big contributor to this belief was the radio station we listened to all day, 91X, one of the top-rated alternative stations in the country. At frequent intervals, the sexiest voice you can possibly imagine announced the station’s call sign in strongly-accented Spanish, “Equis 91…Baja California…Méjico.” We could all imitate, but never duplicate, her. (Many San Diego men day dreamed about that voice.)
Baja California, less than two hours south of San Diego, was our stomping ground, albeit on the territorial outskirts of my circle’s particular reign of terror. Some week-ends we’d drive down and across the border into Tijuana and party at a big warehouse that took up an entire city block. The club vibrated from the force of multiple truck-sized speakers playing dance music inside. You might accidentally blunder off the dance floor into one of the blue-light-lit lounges, accessed through steel doors that sealed like a submarine’s, where couples escaped to hear and grope one another.
Other week-ends we’d drive to Ensenada and hit Hussong's Cantina (where the margarita was invented which we considered of great historical importance) and Papas and Beer as did everyone. On those week-ends we’d dine mostly on Baja’s famous fresh fish tacos. (On the Sea of Cortez side of the peninsula, the seafood and fish offerings are different.)
Our Pied Piper in all that ensued was Bobby P. a.k.a Bad Bobby, a vision with his Buddha belly, E.T.- length fingers and long pale stork legs that usually ended in a pair of pink Converse hightops. Having turned totally gray by 28, Bobby’s head was topped by a full-on Afro that perfectly set off his blue eyes and mischievous face. (My favorite Bobby quote, “It’s your world, I’m just in it.”)
Bobby would valiantly ferry us across the Tijuana border in one of the many cars of his “fleet,” my favorite being a white Chrysler with a push button transmission. I was the only one in the group that spoke Spanish but only had to negotiate his release from a Mexican jail once (Never leave your wounded, however tempted.)
Sometimes we’d work ourselves into a gustatorial lather and drive down the coastal highway to eat like medieval kings, that’s to say with our hands, in the lobster shacks of Rosarito, where freshly-caught lobsters and tortillas hecha a mano cost $12 dollars and the beer cost less than the bottled water. (At least that’s what we’d heard. We took advice not to drink the water seriously, even taking the extra precaution to never drink any, in any form, under any circumstances.
For a couple of years Bad Bobby sublet his place to me that was located at the foot of San Diego’s Crystal Pier at the end of Garnet Avenue in Pacific Beach. The apartment’s ocean view inspired me to leave a daily surf report on my message to callers until I was getting 50 calls a day. Boyfriends abandoned girlfriends before dawn to surf off Sunset Cliffs and other beaches of San Diego, but also drove south to surf Baja.
The beach front apartment on Garnet Avenue did have its downside: It hosted a poltergeist. Bobby, already aware of the spirit, claimed it was a big fan of his but not all that crazy about me. He yelled over the phone “make it your own!” and explained that the ghost was essentially simply bored with me and my evenings sipping wine on the balcony. His prescription was having more parties. It worked.
One of my surfing friends (upon learning he was to become a father (we immediately nick-named the embryo “Little Reef Breaker”) packed up his pregnant wife and moved to Baja. A number of surfing contests, such as the Billabong XX have been held at the two Todos Santos islands, which are 12 miles from Ensenada. Last I heard, Jim Bill owned a surf shop in Cabo San Lucas, becoming one of the brave surf pioneers of Baja! (The beaches are a 15 minute drive from Ensenada. Ensenada itself is a major port and fishing village.)
On the Pacific side of Baja, you can swim along whale sharks in season, or watch gray whales or even great white sharks.. There have only been 10 deaths by white sharks in these waters, five of them provoked. From Ensenada you can watch the gray whales make their 5,000 mile summer migration to/from their Arctic feeding grounds to calving grounds in Mexico.
Those of us who mountain biked would bike in the Sierra de San Pedro Mártir, located near Ensenada, also home to the Astronomical Observatory and a Museum of Culture and Natural History and “El Picacho del Diablo'' (devils peak), the highest mountain in the Baja peninsula. Constitucion de 1857 is another large National Park in Ensenada. Other Natural Protected areas are Valle de Los Cirios, Islas del Golfo, la Biósfera de Isla de Guadalupe.
Bad Bobby was hardly the mountain-biking type, but he was an avid fisherman! In my favorite picture of him, he’s beer-soaked and grinning maniacally on a sports-fishing boat in Ensenada, one of hundreds of anglers who have headed for Ensenada for 50 years to take advantage of the shorter distances needed to get to the deeper waters and the big catch.
So you could say that young Southern Californians have always had a special relationship with Baja California and Ensenada - and always will. It’s relationship that appears to drawing closer every day as many forego the border-crossing and San Diego’s high cost of living by moving to Baja California and specifically Ensenada, where an apartment can be secured for $800 a month along with Mexico’s lower cost of healthcare, veterinary and personal services.
There are more things that have evolved in Baja and make the area even better for young adults today. Unlike other parts of Mexico, the government of Baja California is very eco-conscious, and takes great lengths to protect the rich biodiversity of the Baja, making it a nature and adventure lovers paradise. Valle de Los Cirios, Islas del Golfo, la Biósfera de Isla de Guadalupe are among the protected areas.
For more cultured newcomers to Ensenada, a surprising array of cultural events and concerts radiate from Ensenada’s Cultural Center and Cultural Center for the Arts for that serve the town’s present-day population of 350,000.
Other anomalies of Baja California as compared to the rest of Mexico are its Southern California-style ethos regarding re-cycling everything, whether tires, plastic, or furniture. Tiny homes and container home building reflect the same California influence. Digital natives find excellent fiber optic internet service, even in mountains, gestating a lot of cool start-ups in Ensenada. Water is supplied by the aquifers.
Ensenada has recently evolved into a craft beer brewery hub that would have made Bad Bobby weep with joy. Baja California is also the heart of Mexico's wine country. While my friends and I were way too unruly and broke to experience them, its wineries are regarded as the best in Mexico and the Americas, alongside those of Napa Valley. Ninety percent of Mexico’s wine is produced from the 50+ wineries in the valleys surrounding the mission town Guadalupe and adjacent Calafia. The variety of microclimates support grape varieties from all over the world.
Regardless of how many newer advantages of life in Ensenada I learn and experience, the Ensenada that will remain with me forever is Bobby’s Ensenada. It’s the Ensenada of a man who, to make me feel better about my 30th birthday, rented only the finest electric wheelchair and who, for another birthday, installed a music player in my red Mustang, including a C.D. of he and his wife singing me happy birthday.
Bad Bobby was a man who couldn’t be trusted not to take off his pants spontaneously under the table in one of the red leather booths of our favorite darkened Pacific Beach steakhouse, but could be trusted to give the guy working the grill a $20 tip on the way out. He was a man who insisted in the end that he’d be reincarnated as a seagull sweeping over his fellow fishermen in Ensenada, making a total mess of everything and eternally flying free.
About the author:
Kerry Baker is the author of several books. Her most recent book, “The Lazy Expat: Healthy Recipes That Translate in Mexico” is a cookbook for travelers, snowbirds and expats. (Spoiler: to maintain a healthy diet in Mexico, you must cook.)
The second book is “If Only I Had a Place,” giving you the benefits, pitfalls and opportunities of renting long-term in Mexico. The Mexico Solution: How to save your money, sanity and quality of life through part-time life in Mexico, is the cumulation of all I know, love and want to teach you about part-time expat life.