I get up early in the morning. Before the sun comes up. My cat insists on this because I can’t feed her if I’m still in bed. Plus the mornings here in the San Fernando Valley are mild and that is when I take my hikes because the days can be terribly hot. So…… I go to bed early and the sunset signals my day is coming to a close. I will usually spend that time in my back yard watching the sky and clouds change color then go dark.
Where do I prefer to do this in Ensenada? On the roof of my hotel where no one is supposed to be except for the maintenance man. I get a decent view of the harbor. (Let’s keep this to ourselves.) Or at the malecon where the children are running through that magnificent in-the-ground fountain. If I go to Tecate it’s on a hill overlooking the San Diego County campground called Potrero that’s six miles from the border. The view to the west is spectacular. But where would I rather be? Oaxaca City.
I flew there once, about twenty years ago. Before I became a family care provider and got my wings clipped. And I fell in love with it. I met Americans who felt the same way and had rented small apartments for a couple hundred bucks a month since they went there so often. That sounded good and smart. I went to the Mercado Juarez every day to just walk and look, to smell the mole being ground into paste, and drink an ice-cold malteada. I hired a cab for a day and went to Santiago Matatlan to see mezcal distilleries and nearby Teotitlan del Valle to look for a hand-woven wool poncho. I went to Mitla and Monte Alban, the ancient Zapotec sites. (Go early to avoid the crowds and you will feel a stronger connection with the builders.) I went to San Antonio Arrazola, the village where the best carved wooden figures called alebrijes are made. And I saw the Tree of Tule, a cypress tree that has the largest tree trunk in the whole world. And, God bless me, I saw the best lucha libre wrestling I’ve ever seen in Mexico.
So, how did I spend EVERY late afternoon in Oaxaca as the sun went down? At a bar. Just a small bar whose name I don’t remember that was ON A ROOF that overlooked the whole city and the beautiful Santo Domingo Church, founded in 1551 with an adjacent museum and gardens, as they turned on all the outdoor lights to illuminate the centuries old exterior. It was stunning. Magical.
I found the bar by walking on the uphill, pedestrian-only, cobblestone road from the zocalo to the church. The buildings were all three stories tall and only a few feet apart. Like old San Francisco or New York where you see in the movies cops chasing criminals and everyone’s jumping from roof to roof. The bar, visible from the street, was on the second floor so I went up. I was beat and I wanted a beer and a shot of mezcal to end my day. BUT I was then told I could go up to the flat roof and drink there. Yes, thank you, I believe I will do that. I went every single busy, tiring, I’ve-got-to-see-everything day after. In slowly fading light until dark. Just sipping and staring at the city and church as the clouds moved, the sky changed, and the floodlights came on. I have to go back.
