Ensenada, Mexico, is about an hour south of Tiajuana and the United States border. Ships cruising from the United States must stop at least at one foreign port and for cruises to Hawaii, Ensenada is very convenient.
About twenty years ago I was producing one of those short student films that at the time showed up on Showtime and other cable channels promoting new filmmakers. When the project degenerated into a criminal endeavor behind my back, I cancelled my contracts with the Screen Actors Guide and other organizations, shut down the shoot before it began and hid out in Mexico until the phones stopped ringing. It took about a week. I lost a few grand, but it was worth it in valuable lessons.
That’s how Carol Anne and I wound up living in a hotel in Ensenada twenty years ago, and why we were prowling there. It was an amiable week in retrospect — we visited such attractions as the nearby “blowhole” where ocean water rushes in among the rocks, compresses itself and then spouts high in the air. Blowholes are not common, but Samoa and Hawaii each have them. It’s worth a look particularly if you have time and people are filling up your answering machine back in Los Angeles.
And we discovered “fish tacos” which were unheard of at the time being sold on the docks.
A street in Ensenada. Given the drug culture and the routine killings, no one seemed much interested in getting off the Queen Victoria when she pulled into port, but who could resist a look around. This is the main drag not far from the hotel we stayed in years ago. It was kind of vaguely familiar and kind of not.
In 1993 we drove down from Los Angeles to Ensenada. How quaint and how inconceivable today.
We drove down on the back roads which were challenging, and back on what was then a new toll road, which was staggeringly expensive. Today no one in their right mind even goes to Tiajuana much less drives that toll road down to Ensenada. Drug bandidos grab people off that road these days and the best thing that happens to them is that he gets robbed and she gets raped. On bad days, they just kill you.
Fish tacos.
Fish tacos are probably the main reason we got off the ship — that and our ever present journalistc curiousity that causes us to want to peer around. We might have wanted to see our hotel again, and there was vague talk of maybe checking out that blowhole south of town, but the only firm thing on our shore agenda was having a genuine Mexican fish taco again.
On our first trip down here, long before they had been heard of in the states, we found fish tacos for sale on the docks and wolfed a couple. We were hooked. So off we went, wandering a few shops here and there, but our real destination was the docks, the fish market and the prospect of a couple of fish tacos.
Fishing is obviously a big business here, judging from the number of fishing boats in the harbour and the size of that fish market (above). Some of these fish are on their way to be tacos. Does it rival the one in Busan, South Korea? Probably not, but ...
Cheap drugs.
Cheaper drugs and drugs that are not being sold in the United States are also a big business here, judging from the nuymber of pharmacies. We were working from a disadvantage because we don’t take much (an aspiran, please) so we have no idea what all this stuff will do for you. Maybe we should listen more closely to all the drug ads running on American TV.
Rings and more rings.
A street merchant on the street hauled us over to see 2,000 rings — “you can count them,” he said, “two thousand. I have what you want — look!”
2,000 rings!, right here!, right now! -- go ahead and count them!
“Of course I have sold lots of rings today — !” He said, largely ignoring me. Everybody wants his rings, he said. Everybody.
“So you no longer have 2,000 rings, right? Unless you started with …” I’m like a gnat. When I start, I have to be told to stop. I expected trouble, but he’s handled gringos like me before.
“Let your wife check out my rings while you and I could them! One, two, three …”
I liked him.
But we didn’t buy any rings.
Fishing is a major part of the Ensenada economy judging by the number of fishing boats in its harbour.
Endings.
Ensenada was the final port on our short 14 day cruise on the Victoria.
Fourteen days may seem like a long time, but we spent more than 3 months on this ship. It passed quickly.
In the evening, the Victoria has slipped away from Ensenada and out of Mexican waters. By dawn she would be emptying the ship of most of her passengers at the Port of Los Angeles in San Pedro. The following evening, she would set off for the Panama Canal, pausing at Long Beach to pay homage to the Queen Mary at anchor there since 1968 — honking back and forth with the original QM amid fireworks. By then we were off the Queen Victoria and had boarded the Queen Mary to watch the Victoria’s visit.
Soon enough she sailed off, vanishing into the blackness of the night. We headed back to our hotel in downtown Los Angeles and the following afternoon boarded Amtrak’s Southwest Chief for a 43 hour train ride to Chicago — to read about that click HERE.
Map from the Queen Victoria showing her approach to Ensenada, Mexico.
“All Aboard the Cunard Queens” is copyright © 2009-2011 by Seine/Harbour® Productions, LLC, Studio City, California, by the Peter Michael Crow Trust and by Peter Michael Crow.
Tags: blow hole, cheap drugs in mexico, cunard, drug killings, ensenada, fish tacos, mexico, pharmacies, queen victoria, toll road from tiajuana to ensenada
