Border Towns: What to Do and Where to Do It
Texas offers a wealth of restaurants, bars, shopping, sightseeing, and pleasures of the flesh along the 1248-mile Mexican border that stretches from El Paso to Brownsville. It's close, it's different, and it's fun.
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Although the action has shifted to the more modern Pronaf, it is along Ave. de Juarez where a more abiding, a more traditional—and to me, the real—Mexico is to be found. The restaurants along Juarez reflect the middle-aged and elderly life cycle of the city: some vital and robust enjoying their best years; others slowly dying.
The best known restaurant in Juarez is the Florida. Second generation customers join the elite of both countries for lunch and a roll of the dice in the bar. Owner and operator Marcos Flores suggests this luncheon offering: quesadillas (cheese and chilis between two tortillas) and avocado salad. Followed by Puntas de Filete, a marvelously tender sliced steak with surprises.
Closer to the bridge is a 40-year-old landmark, the Central Cafe and Bar. Like an elderly widower who has unhappily married a series of young chorines, the Central has suffered from a succession of owners since the death of its founder, Seguro Gonzales, 15 years ago. Inside, it has a low ceiling, dark wood paneling, and a beautiful bar that runs the length of the front room.
Every Friday night my friend Malcolm McGregor comes to the Central with friends, orders a plate of Tostados Jalapenos, and begins his lemming-Iike march to the Corona. Ex-member of the Texas House of Representatives, unsuccessful candidate for Congress, lawyer and rancher, Malcolm is a man of great elan with a laugh that sweeps the room like a sunrise. If you are lucky, you'll meet him in the Central.
The Central's food is forgettable, but if you do stay, try the Boquilla Black Bass. It is brought in daily from the lake of the same name below Chihuahua City and is usually good.
If you have a European palate and want better-than-average food, try Martino's, several doors down from the Central. Many long-time El Pasoans say this is the Numero Uno in Juarez. The chef can prepare any thing you wish. "Where the Epicurians Meet" is the accurate slogan of this crowded, but original, dining spot.
My favorite bar, the Kentucky Club, is nearby. It has all the criteria of a good saloon: a dark interior and cheap strong drinks made with good whiskey. The Manhattan is another good bar, where you get 35-cent drinks and on-key mariachi street ramblers.
Two corners down from the Santa Fe Bridge, turn right, go half a block and you're at the Alcazar. Since 1951 this restaurant has been the theatre of operations for the sizable Spanish community living in J uarez. Platos regionales of Spain are featured, such as squid Catalan style, and snails or codfish Basque style. Mexican food, steaks, soups, and even Italian food can be had, but if you order any of these, you will be too.
The drawing card of the Alcazar is summed up in a phrase on the handout card: "Pouring Porron Provokes Pleasure." Manager Rafael Sampdero, a native of Galicia in northern Spain, explains: "A porron is a glass flask which has a refilling handle on one side opposite a pouring spout. The idea is to grasp the handle and pour the wine down your forehead, eyes, and nose and into your mouth."
The reigning porron-pouring champion is Rafael's partner, Miguel Bilbao. Senor Bilbao can hold two flasks above his head, catch the flow of each bottle, and not disturb his puffing cigar.
Wine flows like a canal in this busy room, to the accompaniment of a flamenco dancer, a guitarist, a cartoonist who will immortalize your bibulous buffoonery, and hustling waiters bringing you blue Margaritas, the "Alcazar Especial." If you're feeling weird, try one of these. It looks like New Blue Cheer, but it's good. (Blue Cointreau, lemon juice, and tequila.) Closed on Sundays.
Other spots in Juarez worth knowing about:
Virginia's. Take a taxi because this restaurant is well hidden. A charming old house remodeled into a good restaurant, it has enticing specialties: banana and avocado soup (30¢); French baby eels in avocado; fresh seafood (their best dish) such as lobster tail Virginia style (with rice and fried bananas, $4). Reservations may be needed on Saturday nights.
El Taquito Mexicano. A hole-in-the- wall taco joint that opens at 5 p.m., it offers angelic tasting tacos for a dime. It's around the corner from Martino's.
Nuevo Poblano. This clean, well-lighted place is best for breakfast. They serve real orange juice, the best coffee in town; and have menudo with clout for Sunday morning hangovers. Try the Huevos Rancheros with a side-car order of chili con queso made from the best asadero (goat cheese) in town. A sign on the cash register, burned in fire, states "We don't take credit cards." It's in the middle of town.
Sylvia's Motel. This is a great place to spend the night. Off the lobby is their dark, romantic bar with a back door if an escape hatch is needed. A good four-piece marimba combo completes this perfect nook for messin' around. It's on 16th de Sept.
Casa Zea. This is the best leather shop in town, with beautiful belts and saddles. It's across from the Central Cafe.
Arts and Crafts Shop. This is the best gift shop in Juarez. It's down from Martino's on Ave. de Juarez.
Mundo's. The only gay bar in town. Men only.
Hotel San Antonio. This hotel is on 16th de Sept. across from the Juarez market. There's no need to stay here, but have a drink on the roof patio and admire the sight.
PRESIDIO-OJINAGA
IN THE SUMMER PRESIDIO-OJINAGA IS an iron kettle of a blazing town, a place where the sun pours through your eyes and spreads over you like scalding water. In winter the climate is nice, except when the wind kicks up, blowing clouds of dust across the desert valley floor.
For 26 years until 1968, Oliver Harper, owner and operator of Harper's Hardware on main street, reported to the rest of the nation the high temperature mark of the day, usually tops in the country. Along with supplying his neighbors with nails and what-all, he dutifully continues to record weather data in an old looseleaf notebook kept in the desk drawer in his store. Drop in and check the weather statistics before leaving.
Crossing from Presidio to Ojinaga, you enter one of the few border towns that truly resembles small villages in the Mexican interior. Most visitors never see it, as they are on their way to the Ojinaga train station to catch the Ferrocarril to Los Mochis and the taxi ride skirts the town proper.
The only place to stay in Ojinaga is the Hotel Rohana, a fine hotel with tile floors, high ceilings, and a cool interior. Rates begin at $7 and there are recently constructed cabins in the back if the hotel is full.
Half a block down the street you will find La Fogata, (a popular name—meaning campfire—for restaurants all along the border), a roomy steakhouse, with a band on weekends. The steaks are of yeoman pedigree; the specialty is shish kebab ($2.40). Immediately after crossing the bridge, you will come to El Casino run by Senor Augusto Albo Rios. He will sell you good catfish or northern bobwhite quail dinners in season.
The blue-ribbon winner in Ojinaga, however, is the El Ferrocarril, the restaurant at the railroad station outside of town at the base of the only hill in sight. Two trains bring seafood up from Topolobampo on the Pacific coast three times a week, and it is among the best on the border. The shrimp special ($2.80) and red snapper ($2.40) are always fresh and well prepared.
CANDELARIA
BY GOING NORTHWEST OF PRESIDIO on Farm Road 170 for 38 miles, then 15 miles farther on a dirt road, you will come to Candelaria, one of the most isolated settlements in Texas. Candelaria is a church and a school, both white as a scar; a large storage barn filled with hay and a tractor or two; and next door, the General Store. The generals of this store are two marvelous women in their sixties, dressed in blue jeans and western shirts who sell food, clothes, hardware, and other staples to Candelaria's 15 families.
Contact with the rest of the world is by mail delivery on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and by the steady trickle of tourists who sign their guest book.
Since the early 1930's, Miss Frances Howard and Mrs. J. E. Walker had been traveling from Marfa to this remote area to visit their grandparents. In 1948 they settled in Candelaria and took over the General Store. U.S. Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas in his book, Farewell to Texas, writes fondly of his visit to Candelaria and of the famous Mynah bird, Feather, the toastmaster general of the General Store. Feather was totally bilingual—understanding and replying in Spanish and English—and reigned as village raconteur and trashmouth until his death in February, 1972.
Following a narrow, deep rutted dirt road, I left the General Store and, after riding south half a mile, crossed the Rio Grande, which here is just a 20-foot-wide bar ditch. Candelaria's twin city is San Antonio de Bravo, a village of pigs, chickens, a rusting Chevrolet hulk, a general store, another white-washed church and school, and 15 or 20 adobe huts.
Justice Douglas was on his way to Capote Falls, 13 miles farther northwest from Candelaria, the highest and most beautiful waterfall in Texas. If you can find his book (now out of print) read his account of this splendidly rugged area of Texas.
DEL RIO-CUIDAD ACUÑA
MEXICANS ADORE PARTINGS. THERE ARE many abrazos; Vayas con Dios; promises of speedy returns; a continued volley of compliments, like echoing gunfire; and then fresh pleas to delay departure and have one more round.
Juan Garza Crosby, my host and friend, is a master of such farewell scenes. I have spent a delightful two days tramping through Acuña with Juan, seeing the city through his eyes and learning about astonishing developments. Acuña is about to strike it rich. The city is bursting with energy—noisy, progressive, moneyridden—from the most aggressive shine boys and gum salesmen on the border to a myriad of chamber-of-commerce types eager to sell their city.
Three downtown electronic component plants employing 2500 young women have opened under the U.S.-Mexico twin plant project; plans are in the mill for similar plants to open in the future. However, mostly the talk is of the Lake Amistad resort development, a multi-million-dollar project that will, in effect, bring Acapulco to the Texas border. Yacht clubs, marinas, several 500-room hotels, man-made beaches with white sand, and 3500 imported palms—all are scheduled for completion during the next five years.
The Crosby family has lived in Acuña for over 50 years. Juan's grandmother built Mrs. Crosby's Restaurant and Motel 51 years ago, and today it remains a landmark of quiet elegance and simplicity amidst the hustling of the city. The Crosby family lost everything during the 1910 revolution, and fled to Cuba and then to San Antonio. They returned to Acuña in the early 1920s. Since then they have worked hard, and are wealthy and prosperous. Juan is an economics graduate of St. Mary's in San Antonio. Edward, also a college graduate, manages the family's five ranches and farms. Patricio began Texas A & M University this year.
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