This little village 44 Kilometers south of Tijuana is well known for it's lobster restaurants. I have seen it change over the last 48 years.
I was first taken down there when I was 7. We stayed at retired man's little compound just north of there behind a cantina called El Pescador. His name was Smitty. Every afternoon he'd pass out candy to the kids of Puerto Nuevo. There is way too much to tell, so I'll give some highlights.
This was a very poor fishing village, but we were treated to experiences that few gringos can relate to. My Little brother and I would be on the beach at daybreak to help them push the wooden pangas into the water. We were always offered to ride along while they pulled up their nets and lobster traps. There was a guy who dived for abalone using an old fashioned bell helmet hooked to a gasoline compressor above. The tide pools had everything marine life can offer.
After spending the morning on the water, we would body surf with the local kids or cross the beach highway to the ranch. At the ranch we could ride burros until they brought in the cows and goats.They taught us how to milk them and just seemed to love our company. They would send us home with a big piece of goat cheese. The kids liked us because we always had firecrackers.
We had a tab at the cantina and usually the first time we saw our parents was in the late afternoon. We would be drinking soda and eating a burrito while smelling like fish, cows, burros and goats, with sand in our shorts. They never worried about us because Mexicans like these were much different than the ones in the U.S.
This was before our helmet government came along and kids had fun.
We spent a few weeks there,around fourth of July because my Dad would put on a big show firing sky rockets off the cliffs over the ocean and passing out fireworks to all us kids.
Then I spent the rest of the summer with my lion trainer grandpa and my grandma who had a mountain lion, a bobcat, and a lynx for pets.
Check out "An Early Start". In my column for more.




