my messy baja adventure: street art, bad gas prices, and a suspiciously canary-yellow snail

i just got back from baja and it was like that one time you accidentally injected your red bull with coffee instead of water. let me tell you about it. first, the weather. i just checked and it’s 19.73 and somehow feels like a yoga mat in a sauna, hope you like that kind of thing. we’ve had exactly zero rain so far, and everyone’s walking around like they’re auditioning for a sandcastle jesus commercial. then there’s the neighbors. if you get bored, acapulco’s all-you-can-drink tequila packages are just a short drive away, but honestly, i’d rather eat a sandal right now.

this place has this weird energy where the street artists are out there doing their thing like it’s nobody’s business, even though technically it’s their business. i saw one guy painting a giant octopus on a wall and another guy just chilling next to him eating a taco al pastor like it was a sacred ritual. i mean, who judges that? i didn’t even know octopuses existed in baja until today. maybe they do. who knows?

i heard that the local brewery here makes a stout that tastes like it’s been crying in a parking lot, but i’m not saying i’ve tried it. some guy spilled it on himself and then started screaming in spanish about ‘the void’ and left his wallet at the bar. everyone just laughed and bought another round. great chemistry. i also heard some rumors about a ghost farmer up near the dunes. supposedly he rides a goat at night and waters his crops with stories. i didn’t see any goats, but i did see cloud formations that looked suspicious. definitely worth investigating.

so here’s what i need to look up: why is my car costing $200 a week in gas? baja is trying to murder my wallet. and why does every restaurant have this tiny card slot for tipping? like, i wanted to give 10%, but my thumb got stuck in that vending machine of a door.

neighbors again. if you’re not desperate, don’t go to the beach at 3am. i heard that’s where the canary-yellow snail cult meets. let that be a warning. i saw one this morning crawling up a palm tree like it was auditioning for a luau. when i asked a local about it, he just shrugged and said, ‘sure, it’s the wurst thing i’ve ever seen.’ but then he handed me a bottle of their homemade syrup. weird, right?

another thing: i tried to use the map app on my phone, but it kept glitching and sending me to a place called ‘taco town.” i think it’s a scam. anyway, i parked in a lot outside a bar called el paz de los locos, which translates to ‘the peace of the idiots’ or maybe ‘the peace of the lunatics.’ not sure which. inside, there was a woman carving rubber ducks into a burning tire. surreal vibes. i ordered a beer and ended up sitting there for three hours just watching her. she didn’t even finish her drink.

i saw a review on yelp that said, ‘this place is a human-sized crypt with great nachos.’ well, i’d say it’s accurate. the nachos were… ambitious. packed with nacho cheese that might or might not have been expired. but the mix of opinions is what makes baja fun. one person called it ‘a 5-star dumpster fire,’ another said it ‘had the soul of a sequel.’ jfc.

gear list: camera, spray cans, a jacket that’s 50%penas 50%urban art, and a headlamp because the stars here are way more interesting than your gps. pro-tip: if you’re into documentaries, film the sunset from this cliff. it’s not on any app, but trust me, it’s worth the 20 minutes of hiking where you’ll probably meet a guy selling illegal plantain chips.

i used to think travel blogs were about being ‘vibrant’ or ‘nestled’ somewhere, but baja taught me otherwise. it’s messy. it’s weird. it’s the thing that happens when you try to make sense of a place that doesn’t care about your 30-minute itinerary. the weather’s weird, the locals are louder, and the internet dies at 2pm. yet here i am, writing this in a cantina that smells like burnt tortillas and disappointment.

if you’re in the mood for chaos, check out this snap of a street mural on tripadvisor-or, you know, just take a random photo where tourists are 30% in your photo. yelp review for the best ceviche spot? oh wait, it’s a place called ‘the secret churro’ that’s owned by a guy in a chicken costume. i didn’t go.

p.s. the snail lady Said i should visit her ‘museum of lost socks’ next. i don’t know if that’s a thing, but i’m 60% sure it is. tomorrow, i’m gonna try to find it. or maybe just sit in this same cantina and drink more beer. either choice is fine.

look, bajacalifornia is probably better spelled ‘meh,’ but i’m sticking with baja. it’s got character. like a drunk friend who reminds you of your childhood trauma but also your favorite sweatshirt. stay weird. stay broke. stay here.

my messy baja adventure: street art, bad gas prices, and a suspiciously canary-yellow snail

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