Smells like ‘Merica

We spent our final week in Baja in nearly the exact same spot we spent our first week in Baja a month and a half ago – just South of Ensenada perched on top a rocky coast line. It was uneventful for the most part, though the weather really toyed with us. Nearly every day was windy, which seems to be the norm for this part of the coast, but by Thursday the sun disappeared behind clouds and never reappeared, and on Friday night the rain started. Saturday morning we rolled out of camp, and started our final 100 miles of Mexican roadway on our way back to America.

We could have continued driving North and been back in America before the work week, but there was one final weekend planned in the wine-country along our way. The hope was to hit a nice restaurant (by American standards even) along this path and wait out the weekend traffic crossing the border. Only 18 miles outside of Ensenada we pulled over at a campground run by a school for deaf children. It happened to be only 1 mile from our first dinner reservation, and had hot showers, which we both needed. And good timing as well, as we would be sitting in a crowded restaurant in a few hours eating a dinner that neither of us really enjoyed.

The food was Ok, which isn’t saying much considering the price tag, but it was more the atmosphere and the patrons that really blew it for us. Communal seating on large picnic tables in a single room… normally not a negative in my mind, but in this case the tables were so large it required one to shout to talk to the person across from them. Add to it that the walls were made of stone and wood, the acoustics of the room required even more shouting. Add to all the noise that the patrons in here with us were of the exact type that I go out of my way to try to avoid; the fake-well-off snobs all trying to show off how well-off and snobby they are to other fake-well-off snobs. Very L.A. and just about the worst of humanity in my opinion.

The evening at the restaurant that night sealed the deal for us. By the time we paid for our meal, neither of us wanted to stick around another day just for another meal at a winery restaurant full of those types. Instead, we woke before the sun, packed up our things, and started the final hour drive to the town of Tecate where we would hit the border station by 7AM – just in time to beat the crowds crossing the border. Ten minutes later we were in ‘Merica (just barely, as it was California) and on our was into a big city strip mall to do laundry, restock on groceries, and eat at In-N-Out burger.  It feels good to be back.