Archive for March, 2012


Lake Chapala blooms!

Colors always seem to me so much richer and more vibrant in Mexico, and not in the least because of the abundance of colorful blossoms that thrive in its lush sub-tropics.  Mexico’s palette recalls a childhood in which every hue seemed deeper and more alive, and it makes of every day in Mexico wild and joyous riot of color.

Lake Chapala sits at about the same latitude as Havana, Cuba, but its mile-high altitude wrings the heat and humidity out of the sub-tropical air to make it hospitable to plenty of plants rarely or never seen on Mexico’s coastal Rivieras. The beautiful year-‘round weather here makes for a year-‘round growing season and the bougainvillea – ranging in color from deep raspberry to a delicate shrimp – seem ever present.  There are, though, colorful blooms that mark each season, and even if the rains in this part of the world arrive in summer rather than spring, primavera in Mexico has its own colors as surely as anywhere north of the border.

Light and color can make or break mood.  Just ask anyone who lives beneath Seattle’s cloud cover or has wintered in Anchorage!
 

Mexico’s’ sunlight is warm and intense and persevering.  Mexico’s colors are bright and deep and inviting.  The combination is upliftingly addictive.
 

In March the jacaranda trees are blooming in the village below and their blossoms form a delicate lavender cloud that hovers magically over the town.
Seen up close, the lavender cloud resolves itself into electric cobalt flowers against which even a deep blue sky pales.
As the blooms yield to fern-like leaves, fallen blossoms collect between the cobblestones and transform them into a cobalt carpet.

 

Mexicans call this tree with starkly dark branches hung with brilliant golden blossoms that look like Christmas tree ornaments the “arbol de primavera”… spring’s tree.  These remind of the brightly golden hardwood leaves of my childhood autumns.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This fanciful tree displays cotton-candy-colored blossoms clustered in powder-puff circles that look good enough to eat.

 


This tree stands like a piece of contemporary sculpture: musical note shadows strung upon power line shadow sheet music.
It’s striking when viewed from a few dozen feet away, but like the jacaranda blossom reveals its true artistry when seen up close.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not all of the blossoms appear on flowering trees.  Many, like the bougainvillea, grow on vines and can be found in just about any color of the rainbow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With the three-month rainy season yet three months away, cacti are readily found in the arid foothills, and the coral blossoms of the ocotillo are a striking contrast with its skeletal branches and emerald backdrop of surrounding cacti.


Flowers are often so colorful and perfectly formed that it’s hard to believe they’re natural.  This one is the real deal!
It’s hard to awaken to this open-air botanical garden in anything but the best of spirits, and it’s an aura that follows you everywhere along the Riberas throughout the day!

What happens in Vegas…

I went to Las Vegas this week for the first time in over 10 years, and it took some of my expectations by surprise.

Neon-lit balloon, Paris Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas

Parts of The Strip are virtually unchanged.  At night the neon is as brilliant and animated as ever and the Chippendale strippers still pose on posters and billboards.

Cirque de Soleil and Blue Man Group and LaReve are all still alive and well, if moved to new venues in a Las Vegas version of musical chairs.  New faces fill the perennial marquee slots.  Comics, country singers, and tribute bands.

The Steve Wynn hotel casino extravaganzas built during the run-up to the Great Recession, however, have rendered some long-familiar stretches virtually unrecognizable.  There are new pedestrian bridges and added miles of monorail.  The slot machines are now all flat screen digital, which is appropriate since Vegas seems to be one big virtual reality video game.

High-rise condos stand against the night sky speckled only occasionally by the lights of neighborless occupants. A vacant lot right on The Strip is unmarked by any sign of impending ground-breaking.  A bit further on construction looks long interrupted on the steel skeleton of a new building.

The Strip’s panhandler population has grown exponentially and dogs sit at the feet of so many that it can only be presumed they earn more than the cost of their keep.  The homeless sleep hidden in the shadows of lush landscaping only a stone’s throw away.  Handouts must come more easily within earshot of a slot machine payoff.

Donnie & Marie at the Flamingo

Donnie & Marie at the Flamingo

The looming billboard images of a forever young Siegfried & Roy are conspicuously absent, along with $5 Prime Rib dinners and all-you-can-eat buffets.  Even in Vegas there appears to be no free lunch anymore.

Throngs shuffle along the sidewalks in opposing streams, and the obvious carb-and-fat addicts among them seem more numerous and even more super-sized than I’d remembered.  It seems like anyone not drinking is talking on a cellphone, anyone not walking is playing a video game, and everyone else is texting. At times the sidewalk hustlers passing out photo cards of near-nude escorts seem to outnumber the tourists.  High unemployment seems to have swelled the ranks of sex trade workers.

The crowd seems both younger and more Asian and Latino than before.  This may be simply a reflection of America’s changing demography, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s also because unemployment has disproportionately stricken the older, whiter Americans who have been Vegas’s historic mainstays.  One day in the not too distant future I expect to see the few surviving Baby Boomer grandsons and granddaughters of European immigrants from the Midwest make their last stand at Caesar’s Palace.

As I scan the face of the oncoming stream it strikes me that few in the crowd are laughing or even smiling as they wind their way from casino to casino.  Many, in fact, are downright grim, as if Vegas has failed to shake whatever weighs them down back home.

I’ve often wondered at foreign tourists who, faced with the daunting task of touring America’s coast-to-coast vastness, opt for Orlando’s DisneyWorld or L.A.’s Universal Studios or Las Vegas as their windows into the American experience.  Americans tour Europe to see the cultural settings from which more of us than not still remain in some way descended.  Europeans come here to see America’s self-parodies.

As I walk The Strip for the last time I see in the dark sky far above the bright pinpoints of planets in their once-in-a-lifetime alignment, and it drives home the transiency of this unnatural desert oasis.

Perhaps the long-separate Vegas reality has at last converged with the broader American reality.  This time, it’s what’s happened outside of Vegas that has stayed in Vegas.

Glass art lobby chandelier, Bellagio

Arts nouveau

Indigo 1745 and Zen Sushi, 380 W. 7th

The Bishop Arts District  is one of a handful of old Dallas neighborhoods that in their rebirth have embraced their past.

 

US 80 sidewalk grate, Davis St.

Bishop Arts dates from a time when Oak Cliff was a stop on the Interurban electric train connecting Dallas and Fort Worth, and locals still remembered when the Houston Street Viaduct first permanently connected them to Dallas… and when Dallas annexed them.

Corner store, Davis @ Woodlawn

 

The patronage of Winnetka Heights and Kessler Park residents may be fueling the Bishop Arts revival, but the District is actually the hole in the West Dallas donut of a vibrant Latino neighborhood.

I rarely pass through it without coming upon a sight that makes me smile or pause to reflect.

Wall mural, Davis near Haines

This is a neighborhood in transition, and all along the edges of Bishop Arts contrasting images of its patchwork identity often appear side by side.

Tattoo parlor, W. Davis near Haines

This kitschy sidewalk grate made good on its promise for more of the same inside.

Tattoo parlor, W. Davis near Haines

La Michoacana Ice Cream, Davis near Haines

 

 

 

 

There’s a rich tradition of ice cream-making in the Mexican state of Michoacan, and it’s alive and well here at the edge of Bishop Arts.

Bishop Street Market, N. Bishop at Davis

Bishop Street Market, N. Bishop at Davis

 

 

 

 

 

Local businesses have banded together to create Bishop Arts First Thursdays, an evening showcase experience.
(While I’ve never failed to find parking here, it’s sometimes on the street 3 blocks away. First try the large lot at 7th and Madison.)

Epiphany, 412 N. Bishop

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On First Thursdays boutiques and galleries join neighboring restaurants and bars in keeping lights on and doors open well into the evening.

Zola’s Vintage, 414 N. Bishop

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I arrive just before dusk as the streets slowly come alive.  There are almost no darkened storefronts, and the retail shops and galleries draw well beyond the young singles bar crowd.

W. 7th, between N. Bishop & N. Madison

 

 

 

Several continuous blocks of sidewalk invite the stroller to drop in and make of the evening meal a moveable feast.

Whitehall Exchange, N. Bishop @ 7th

 

 

With the weather warming, many restaurants have flung open doors and windows, and you can have a drink seated at a sidewalk stool comfortably close to the bar.  I’m reminded just for a moment of Bourbon Street.

Whitehall Exchange, N. Bishop @ 7th

 

Oddfellows, 316 W. 7th

Lockhart Smoke House, N. Bishop @ Davis

 

There’s plenty of patio dining to be found.  Within 2 blocks of Bishop and Davis there’s BBQ and Thai and just about everything in between.

 

 

With so many great one-of-a-kind eateries, you may want to leave local chains like Hunky’s and Gloria’s for another day… but both are to be commended for rehabbing historic structures.  (Café Brazil opted for a strip center location.)

Hunky’s, 321 N. Bishop

Bishop Arts District, W. 7th

Gloria's, in the old fire station W. Davis @ N. Madiso

Gloria’s, in the old fire station W. Davis @ N. Madiso

 

 

Nothing in Bishop Arts seems run-of-the-mill, and it’s clearly attracted like-minded merchants and restaurateurs.

 

 

 

 

You won’t find Gap or Anthropologie or anything that smacks of a national chain here, and it’s refreshing to spend an evening outside the cookie cutter!

 

The Soda Gallery has to have the world’s largest selection of soft drinks, made up mostly of old and regional brands like Nehi, Faygo, and Frostie that I haven’t seen since childhood.  Somehow, and aluminum can just doesn’t have the same cachet.  How about a nice red pop?

 

The Soda Gallery, 408 N. Bishop

The Soda Gallery, 408 N. Bishop

Some of the shops have great signs, but I’ll admit that I wasn’t enticed into Maria’s Closet by its sign.  I’ll also admit that I had to go in and ask the folks at M’Antiques if it was Captain Kirk’s phaser or Flash Gordon’s ray gun woven into their logo.

Veracruz Café is one of the standout Mexican restaurants in a town which has no lack of them.

Veracruz Café, Bishop @ 7th

Veracruz Café, Bishop @ 7th

The regional menu draws from the cuisine of Mexico’s Caribbean coast, and here you’ll find new dishes and flavors that will make you completely rethink Mexican food.  They’ve twice expanded into adjacent space and gotten a liquor license since I first came a few years ago. I often top off a meal here with a latté at Espumoso Café just a couple of doors down.

Band sets up on Bishop @ 7th

Under the canopy of what looks to have once been a service station a band is setting up, chit-chatting with passers-by and seemingly in no hurry to begin.

It’s a lack of concern for the exact time that seems to hang over the District; everyone’s already where they’re going.

Artisan’s Collective

 

 

 

I first wandered into the Artisan’s Collective over a year ago.

The sheer number of pieces on display is awesome, and with over 100 Dallas artists on exhibition it’s an unmatched smorgasbord of media and styles.

This is one of those places that invites you to a quick walk-through and keeps you browsing for a worthwhile hour.

Eno’s Pizza Tavern

 

 

“Pizza Tavern” doesn’t seem to adequately sum up the Eno’s experience.

On this evening strollers take turns sitting in big Adirondack chairs that Eno’s has placed on the sidewalk.

As much fun as this place can be on First Thursdays, it’s also a great place for Tuesday live jazz and Sunday brunch.  The building is a classic and the renovation inspired!

Comederia Il Padrino, Davis near 7th

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dusk is now long gone, and as I head back to my car the Il Padrino Comederia glows like some alien spaceship hovering over the District. All along Davis neon blazes and people are out in the streets.

 

 

 

I cross the Trinity on the old Jefferson Street Viaduct.  Off to the far left the lighted arch and steel strands of the Calatrava bridge glow in the darkness.  Waves of colored light wash across the face of the new convention center hotel.  And far above it all the pinpoint lights of the Reunion Tower globe sparkle.

 

(See also my related posts “Dallas’s Erasable Past,” and “Bicycle Perspective”).