Happy belated New Year, a la January 13th. A most interesting year. A year that began with me lying on the floor of a cabin In The Woods after having drunk too much “Delicious Red” (it comes in a box, oh woe) and ended with us, um, actually we were already asleep when the airhorn from some raucous partiers on one of the pirate ships woke us up at, presumably, midnight. Whatever, snore.

One learns things about oneself when one embarks on an open-ended trip in a vessel with a living space of 32 by 6 feet. One particularly glaring example that comes quickly to mind is that my bladder is apparently capable of holding 750 milliliters, at least. Who knew? When’s the last time you had a chance to measure your bladder capacity? Please don’t even try to imagine the circumstances that led me to this discovery because they were traumatic for everyone involved, including the Gatoraid bottle. Let us also not dwell on that little “at least” either because I try not to; we’ll call it an even 750 for the record. 750 ml. At least.

Much time was subsequently wasted on fruitful internet searches. A fin whale has a bladder capacity of 5.5 gallons (that’s 20,069.7 ml more than me). And how about the word “urodynamics.” There are also a whole lot of things that contain 750ml, like bottles of Veuve Clicquot. A most disturbing product called “Papa Bert’s Sippin’ Seat,” which I found in a cheerleading product catalogue no less, boasts some powerful tech writing: “the strong flexible bladder can hold over 3 cups (750 ml) of your favorite warm or cold beverage and can withstand the weight of an adult sitting on it.” It comes in camo. I think it might be the only product that Papa Bert has.

At any rate, it might be a while before I am invited to another boat for cocktails.

1. Garlic smisher (pronounced smeesher) from Ikea. A stylish thing but it took about a gallon and a half to get all the dang garlicy bits out of the tiny tiny little (pronounced leetle) holes.
2. Bright red melamine one-cup measuring cup. Waaa! We lost it at Los Frailes during some vicious wind; I had it out to dry on the hatch cover and the wind perked up and blew it off the freakin’ boat. My orange half-cup and yellow third-cup still mourn the loss.
3. Palm frond casting we picked up in San Diego and placed artfully atop our trampoline; “Hey! That’s that thing we saw down the street in that trashcan!” said our neighbors at the transient dock. Probably a good thing it never made it to La Paz or else we could have been charged with the illegal transportation of a forest product.
4. Five-gallon water bottle. We lost it during a tricky dinghy-docking procedure. It was full of fresh water and sank like a lead weight in the salt water that is Bahia La Paz. Hrmm. Makes you think about physics. Luckily we had a lot of beer aboard.

Notable mention: my sunglasses, which I’ve nearly lost overboard about 284 times. Usually because I have one of the ear-things hooked on my shirt and I bend over to swab the deck, or polish the brightwork, or batten the hatches.

One of our favorite taco stands (asada and adobada, which is the marinated pork).

Tacos in the making!

This guy makes what looks like salsa soup (hot); we haven’t tried it yet because every time we get to him, we’re already stuffed with tacos. We’ll get to it…

The previous two photos are of a very elaborate and popular stand that has very good fish tacos. You pay one guy who gives you a tiny bit of paper with your order written down, then you give that to the guy at the grill who will always present your place with the careful pronunciation: “feesh tacos.” Another woman mans the liquados and washes the dishes.

January 6th was Dia de los Reyes (day of the kings), which is a Catholic holiday celebrating when the three kings arrived to the baby jesus and gave him presents. Kids here open their presents (you know, from the kings) at this point and then everyone celebrates with a fruitcake, or ‘Rosca.’ Every bakery in town is loaded down with these ring-shaped fruit cakes, which represent the crowns of the kings, and something dangerous—possibly involving knives, and then there is a baby jesus inside the fruitcake! A Christmas miracle! (Um, if I understood correctly).

Pussy cakes! Actually, they are our favorite bakery treat aside from the palmeras; they are cheesecakes baked into a slightly obscene shape.

First and foremost: TREATS. The best ice cream I’ve probably ever had is from a place called “La Fuente” on the waterfront across from the municipal pier. It has the polka-dotted tree in front. Joshua and I have undertaken intensive research to find the best flavors: Limon de Crema (both the ice cream and the frozen yogurt—very creamy and nothing like the “frozen yogurts” in the states, which too often try to be the “low fat” option, and, bleargh!), Petalo de Rosa (loaded with many petite pink rose petals), café (not too sweet and with an intense flavor), and Fresa con Queso (strawberry ice with cream-cheese marble and cheesy chunks) are so far the standouts. The only losers, if you can call them that, are the rum raison that was not rummy enough and had stemmy raisons and the mango, which was just not as exciting as it seemed like it should have been. A notable mention goes to Tequila Almendrada.

Taco stands: In addition to market stalls and other various street foods, taco stands are our favorite way to eat in La Paz. There is a collection of taco stands around the corner of Ocampo and Revolucion. Our favorite is the guy in on the southwest corner in front of the yellow Western Union building with the sign “Tortas y Tacos.” He has great asada (beef) and adobada (pork) tacos and good salsas for 8 pesos apiece. His tortas are also good, although I prefer tacos in general to sandwiches. He takes a roll, puts a creamy mayonnaisey stuff on it and grills it mayo-side down until it has caramelized and sizzles. Then he puts refried beans, cheese, meat of your choice, tomato, avocado, lettuce, and more cream on top.

Just around the corner (turn left on Ocampo) is another very popular stand with 5-peso tacos. His asada is pretty good (not quite as good as Tortas y Tacos) and he sometimes has pescado; his also has a good selection of salsas. Across the street and down half a block (on Revolucion between Ocampo and Degollado) is lady with good 5-peso pescado tacos (she sometimes has them in the mornings, otherwise she has asada) and around the corner and down half a block (left/west on 16 de Septiembre) is a very elaborate stand with a vast array of salsas fresh and bottled. His pescado tacos are great and good sized, if more expensive (10 pesos). We ate all the salsas, fresh cabbages, pico de gallos, and sliced cucumbers and did not feel any ill aftereffects. (The only dinner that did not sit well was actually in one of the restaurants that catered somewhat to tourists.)

La Fonda (Nicolas Brava at Revolucion): Jeff had mentioned that he had eaten here previously and so we made many attempts to try it ourselves. On the fourth attempt (they were closed, not open yet, closed for a private party or something..), we secured a table for an early dinner after an exhausting day tracking down and hauling stove alcohol across town. We ordered off the hand-written daily special list and asked the waiter if he had any recommendations; I had the pollo con mole and Joshua went with the, um, steak something-something. First came a soup of shell-shaped wheat pasta in a chicken broth, it was okay—the pasta was somewhat mushy—but we were primarily wary of spoiling our appetites for the main dish. My pollo en mole was very good (I do not have much mole experience to compare it to, however); the mole was the dark brown chocolate-spice type with sesame seeds on top. The chicken was very flavorful and tender. It came with rice and beans and the salsas were good: a green tamatillo/pepper salsa and a dried chili and vinegar style salsa (very hot). Joshua’s steak was an asada-style cut (thin) grilled with rice and beans and a mole-covered enchilada. We’re typically used to eating steak as thick, med-rare American-style steaks so eating asada “steak” style and not chopped in tacos is sort of odd. Nonetheless, he pronounced his meal good, if not flat-out great, and we were both happy. The weirdest part of the meal was the postre (dessert) that came with: jello in a shallow plastic cup. I had a pineapple flavor and Joshua unfortunately ended up with grape. I don’t believe I have had jello since I was maybe 12. An unusual way to end a meal but it was a good experience (not counting the jello, necessarily) and very inexpensive; the total bill including two beers was 120 pesos or so.

Bistro Francais: A French restaurant, with some Spanish and Mexican flavors thrown in (around Esquerro and 16 de Septiembre). It’s okay; I ordered the grouper with green peppercorn sauce and a goat cheese salad with jamon Serrano. I have never had green peppercorns before and was surprised to discover that they tasted reminiscent of cleanser, but in a compelling way. Therefore, my fish was just so-so, plus the white sauce it was in was very rich and made my face flush. Joshua and Jeff had fish and scallops, respectively, in a creamy garlic sauce, which was recommended by the waiter and which they both enjoyed. The sauce seemed very similar to mine minus the green peppercorn, plus garlic. The salad was probably my favorite part, since goat cheese and fresh vegetables really can’t go wrong in my world. The interior of the restaurant is very nice and there is a great inner courtyard with a garden. There was a guy playing live music who thankfully did not abuse the drum beat function of his synthesizer and was, honestly, not bad at all; he played all sorts of unusual instruments, always a plus. (Entrées range vaguely from 60 to120 pesos.)

Rancho Viejo: This place was recommended to us by some other cruisers who had been in town for a bit and so we went by for some breakfast tacos. They have a large place with a pleasant atmosphere and menus painted on the walls. A few tables outside are on the street but next to the large grill (where you get to watch the guy grilling the meat) and inside is a nice courtyard (with a TV capable of showing terrible 80s movies about kangaroos named “Matilda” who box with the heavyweights; beware!). The first time we went, we tried the asada tacos (12 pesos each; because that’s what appeared to be on the grill when we arrived) and they were large with hefty cubed chunks of meat, but very gristly. I felt as if I couldn’t chew properly for fear I’d bite down on something freaky. The salsas were also lacking in flavor and we ended up putting salt on everything. Oh well. We left wishing we had eaten Tortas y Tacos’ asada tacos instead. We probably would not have returned if we didn’t keep running into more people recommending the place; this time they mentioned that the “arrachera” is what you have to order. Arrachera tacos are 17 pesos apiece but well worth trying. It’s still beef but marinated and very tender and no gristle. The salsas were also better this time, so perhaps we just hit them on a bad day our first visit.

Market food: In the public market on Nicolas Brava and Prieta are several food counters serving soups and tostadas and burritos and empanadas. The empanadas looked the most exciting because they are always making them fresh right there in front of you so we tried these from a couple of the different vendors. They all put the same stuff inside: beef and potato with spices, and they all serve it with an ancho chili salsa (very good and fairly spicy). So far, every one we’ve tried has been great. Also excellent is the fresh juice from the juicer counter—you can get orange and/or a blends of beet, celery, carrot, pineapple (we like the guy next to the south entrance). There is a tortilleria here as well with decent tortillas; however, our favorite tortilleria is on Allende at Gomez Farias (I think; north side of the Allende—white building with blue lettering).

(For reference, the current exchange rate is around 10.5 pesos per dollar.)

One the way back from CCC we stopped at a recommended liquor store on Allende and Independencia. It turns out we’d been there before and it was right across the street from our favorite tortillaria and a strange/cool fishing store where I bought a rapala (rapala = 1 sierra). Cheyenne is yelling over my shoulder “stay on target! Quinar.” So… to quinine. Said liquor store had corn-free tonic. Described on the bottle as “agua quinada,” which we take to mean “quinined water,” and in turn means that the verb must be quinar: to quinine. Ultimately, it means I had to dig into deep storage for the remaining bottle of Sapphire.