Strolling on Bay Street

Back in the 1980s we had French relatives who visited us when we lived in San Francisco´s North Beach/ Russian Hill community - a fine combination of bohemia and filthy rich folks and fishing/crabbiing communities and Italian restaurants and nearby Chinatown with its innumerable great Asian restaurants and splendid views and a remarkable climate and while they were there we were working at our trades in order to make a living so we left them alone daily in our Russian Hill apartment with its breathtaking views so they could stroll about this ever interesting and cosmopolitan neighborhood only to find out just before they were planning to fly back to Paris that they had spent endless hours strolling up and down the neighborhood´s nondescript central thoroughfare of Bay Street within blocks of remarkable sights and sounds and smells provided by that incredible city and what a waste and a shame that was but recently I was reminded of that sad memory while driving from Ajijic to Chapala in the early morning and observing all the foreign residents hereabouts walking vigorously up and down the Ajijic-Chapala carretera´s bike path getting their morning exercise in non-descript surroundings on the auto-congested, fume-poisoned atmosphere of the butt-ugly bike path ringed by nondescript commercial establishments and I began to wonder at that point why anyone would settle for that sort of unpleasant stroll along the shores of Lake Chapala within the Chapala community when there is so much natural beauty here along paths open at all times to the public where daily strolls can be incredibly beautiful and uplifting so here, folks, is Dawg´s recommendation to those of you seeking places to both get your daily exercise and soak in the incredible beauty of this place in which we have the extraordinary good fortune to live.

* You can walk all the way from Canacinta to the San Antonio Tlayacapan delegation line along deserted beaches and through the leafy and beautiful environs of La Floresta and back - a walk of several kilometers - and never even pass a car much less breathe its exhaust and the walk is not only good for you but inspirational and, normally, a walk of solitary enjoyment interspersed with occasional opportunities to engage passersby along the Ajijic malecon in pleasant banter. Dogs always welcome and even encouraged on the paths and streets and in neighborhood eating and drinking establishments so you can always stop for a beer or cup of espresso with Fido without the least bit of anxiety as to your welcome.

* There are walks on the lakeshore near the beautifully developed new Chapala malecon and its adjacent parklands that are incredible and, at present, anyway, provide a maximum of personal privacy and solitude if that is what you want; once again, interspersed with sections you will find filled with folks having fun and in a festive mood on weekends or holidays.

You can achieve all of this without attempting to isolate yourself on rarely used mountain trails requiring vigorous commitment so why the hell would anyone in such a pristine area ever even dream of walking up and down the bike path on the carretera between Ajijic and Chapala?

To each his own.

Exactly, to each his own.

Or... "De gustibus non disputandum est." from the Latin...in matters of taste, there is no dispute. Lizzy

Carry Bean wrote:Exactly, to each his own.

There is nothing on earth more satisfying to a dung beetle than dung. To each his own.

Good thing, too. Otherwise we'd be awash-in-dung. Lizzy

hound dog wrote:

Carry Bean wrote:Exactly, to each his own.

There is nothing on earth more satisfying to a dung beetle than dung. To each his own.

Dawg, your first post is spot on. Why in hell would anyone want to get their daily walk along the vehicle-fumed main drag when they could be walking on a flat pathway recently created for their walking pleasure right next to a lake? There's even a parking lot next to the grassy park. Water birds to watch, kids playing in the park, benches to rest on........very nice experience. Oh well, as you said about dung beetles.....

I just wonder why anyone cares where others walk?

Carry Bean wrote:I just wonder why anyone cares where others walk?

To be perfectly honest, I don't care where anyone walks....middle of the street; edges of tall buildings or wherever. I think the point is that we. as humans, are curious about why people choose the things they do. Curiousity and caring ain't the same animal. Woman I knew married a man who was ugly, mean and poor. I didn't care, but I sure was curious. Didn't last long, but I never did find out.

Carry Bean wrote:I just wonder why anyone cares where others walk?

A good point. The purpose of my post; perhaps poorly presented, was to point out that we at Lake Chapala are extraordinarily lucky to have innumerable paths to walk which would be a blessing to urban dwellers in almost any congested urban environment in Mexico where public isolated walking paths among magnificent old trees and along unspoiled beaches are the exception rather than the rule. Perhaps this unusual gift is lost upon many who live here full time but, as we also live in the urban environs of San Cristóbal de Las Casas, granted, a beautiful colonial city, in which we stroll daily while there, we know that the Chapala area and its delegation Ajijic provide extraordinary opportunities for splendid walks along pristine lakefront and in beautiful leafy neighborhoods while most urban environments are concrete upon concrete no matter how beautifilly designed nor how beautifully they exhibit the patina of fine old age.

Is it so strange that I find it odd that residents with access to such gifts spend their days strolling the carretera on an ugly and polluted environment.

It is not that I care where others walk and, in fact, I am grateful that the majority of those who walk here are walking elsewhere as their presence would add no value to my own private stroll; I guess, more than anything, I was trying to alert others who walk for exercise, as to the unseen treasures just down the street that could add value to their lives as they have mine.

hound dog wrote: It is not that I care where others walk and, in fact, I am grateful that the majority of those who walk here are walking elsewhere as their presence would add no value to my own private stroll; I guess, more than anything, I was trying to alert others who walk for exercise, as to the unseen treasures just down the street that could add value to their lives as they have mine.

That's the way I took it until you got to the "so why the hell would anyone in such a pristine area ever even dream of walking up and down the bike path on the carretera between Ajijic and Chapala?"

Got your point though

I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.

"The difference between 'involvement' and 'commitment' is like
an eggs-and-ham breakfast: the chicken was 'involved' - the pig
was'committed'."

I guess you have never seen a three legged pig.

I've seen a few two legged pigs..........

This traveling salesman is way out in the hills and approaches a farmer to try to
sell his wares. He notices a three legged pig hopping around in the front yard and
asks the farmer about it.
"That's no ordinary pig!" exclaims the farmer. "That pig is smart! We all owe our lives
to that thar pig! Why, last winter we wuz all asleep and a spark from the fireplace
caught the cabin on fire, and we would've all burned up. But that pig squeeled and
beat on the front porch to wake us up and saved all our lives! And last sprang my
son wuz a swimmin in the pond and took a cramp and woulda drown, but that thar
pig come a runnin to the back fourty where I was a plowin and drug me by the
overalls til I saw him and saved his life again!"
"Wow, but what happened to his leg?" asked the salesman.
"We owe it all to that pig! Why, it wouldn't be right to just eat him all at once!"

cane wrote:This traveling salesman is way out in the hills and approaches a farmer to try to
sell his wares. He notices a three legged pig hopping around in the front yard and
asks the farmer about it.
"That's no ordinary pig!" exclaims the farmer. "That pig is smart! We all owe our lives
to that thar pig! Why, last winter we wuz all asleep and a spark from the fireplace
caught the cabin on fire, and we would've all burned up. But that pig squeeled and
beat on the front porch to wake us up and saved all our lives! And last sprang my
son wuz a swimmin in the pond and took a cramp and woulda drown, but that thar
pig come a runnin to the back fourty where I was a plowin and drug me by the
overalls til I saw him and saved his life again!"
"Wow, but what happened to his leg?" asked the salesman.
"We owe it all to that pig! Why, it wouldn't be right to just eat him all at once!"

This yankee traveling salesman gets assigned a new territory covering Northern Alabama and moves to Huntsville to take over the sales territory for that region. On his first day on the job, in the middle of a stifling summer heat wave, he sets out to acquaint himself with his new territory and, as the day wears on he finds himself driving out on country roads and developing a huge thirst, he comes around a bend in the road and sees a bar ahead with a large neon sign of an alligator opening and closing his enormous jaws and announcing that the name of the bar is The Alligator Bar.

He walks into this pub and is the only customer and orders a cold brew which he is enjoying but, being a bit bored and wishing to converse with someone he strikes up the following conversation with the bartender:

Salesman: I´m new in this area and am from up north but I must say, I was surprised to see your bar named The Alligator since, while I am not that familiar with Alabama, I have always associated alligators with South Alabama with its bayous and swamps along the coast.
Bartender: That has nothing to do with the reason for the name. Here, let me show you.

With that the bartender claps his hands twice and suddenly this alligator jumps up from behind the bar and lies there on top of the bar scaring the hell out the salesman who jumps back in fear.

Bartender: Don´t worry; he´s not dangerous. Just watch this.

With that the bartender claps his hands twice and the alligator opens his mouth wide. The bartender then proceeds to pull out his penis and sticks it into the alligator´s mouth where he leaves it for a full ten minutes before removing it and then claps twice again and the alligator´s mouth slams shut.

Salesman: Holy Moly! That´s amazing.
Bartender: Aw, there´s nothing to it. Would you like to try it?
Salesman: I´d love to but I don´t know if I can hold my mouth open that long.

What is the record time for an Alabaman to keep their mouth open.

cane wrote: What is the record time for an Alabaman to keep their mouth open.

When spouting inanities or pontificating upon matters destined to end up, when having been exploited., ad nauseum, to no decent conclusion? I would venture to say, having spent the first 26 years of my life in Alabama, that nothing having been said there in those days is worth repeating except, as in the case of Sheriff Jim Clark of Dallas County (Selma) in 1968. "What is it yáll n......rs want anyway?

I still remember moving from Montgomery to L.A. County in 1966 during the Watts Riots and it was like moving from hell to another hell. Don´t talk to Dawg about liberation.

That's the year I moved to West Los Angeles/Santa Monica. Worked at UCLA med center & spent a couple of weekends a month in San Francisco during the summer of love (which it wasn't, IMO.)

Carry Bean wrote:That's the year I moved to West Los Angeles/Santa Monica. Worked at UCLA med center & spent a couple of weekends a month in San Francisco during the summer of love (which it wasn't, IMO.)

Too true, Carrie.
The media got hold of that and ran with it. In san Francisco, the Haight was overrun with teenybopper runaways who took the slogan seriously and scr3w3d everything in sight with not the least idea about basic hygiene or safe sex (the concept did exist back then).
From this resulted an epidemic of STDs unlike any seen before. Compound that with the fact that they were dumb as a bag of hammers and had zero street smarts; sure were a lot of busts that summer.
Not to mention the busloads of tourists from Iowa or somewhere, harassing the residents and shoving cameras in our faces.
I'm not sure if any of them really got it, but, meanwhile, it was a PITA for those of us who lived in the neighborhood. Lizzy

You're so right, Lizzie. I saw way too many who were a bunch of people using other people, a lot of scummy types getting anything free they could & many rip-off artists. When I have said this to people who weren't there they looked at me like I had 2 heads.

Your right about the hustlers and grifters; opportunistic feeders, they are. Things followed the usual course, and the real estate folks descended like a horde of locusts and Yuppified the place.
There went the neighborhood.
It was great while it lasted.
Lizzy

Geez, it's a small world. While that was happening in the Haight, a couple of people I knew were just trying to make a living running a pottery shop in the neighborhood. They finally gave up and moved out of town.

Somebody on PBS made a realistic documentary about those days that was pretty sad, including the teenagers coming off the busses from elsewhere with big dreams and empty brainpans. The predators found them fast.

That was about the time that the exodus "back to the land" began. That had all the earmarks of another fiasco, as a great many folks had a rather idealistic take on what that entailed. But most folks survived, and learned a lot in the process.
I moved out to Marin County to live in San Anselmo for a while. Lizzy

It has been really romanticized since. While the idea was nice, something happened in the translation and it wasn't all good.

When is it ever? There was a lot of great stuff that happened too; Digger Bread for one. I lived across from the church where they baked every week for a while. Before that at 723 Clayton. The music was huge. Many fine musicians happened in that creative environment.
That was before an "us and them" divided the musicians from their audience. James and Nancy Gurley lived a couple of doors up the street on Clayton, the Dead were a block over, and Janet was down by the panhandle.
Up until "The Summer of Love" was created by the media in 1967, life was good there. Sure, there were some speed freaks and smackheads, but most people just smoked pot and had an occasional beer. Lizzy