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Blogs by Paul Cuenco
Mendocino 3/1/2012 8:17:20 PM
Mendocino was that quintessential town everyone goes to. It sat on a bluff amidst the rampaging sea with the wild Pacific splashing along its shores. Houses were neatly stacked in rows and if you looked at it from a distance it languished in a time when they were weathered. By the sea, there was this big hole where my sister had almost fell into, having this dramatic episode about regretting having a relationship with Hector. But all was resolved. Of course her regrets were now past. When you approached the town, it felt that you were transported into another time. It looked mysterious. It was a town separated by distance to other towns, the mountains and a bay where lonesome people set up tents. And when the morning came they would hunt for dollar shells and all sorts of sea things that would pique their curiosity.
Its streets were lined with cafes and hotels catering to a lot of tourist. They crowded the sidewalks, ogling about the ramparts, its wooden sidewalks filled with café tables and roaming people. There were also a lot of artist shops where art buyers congregate, admire and buy pieces hewn by the hands, created for their pleasure. The hotels were already crowded and no rooms were available.
We ended up at almost the outskirt of town. We were two families, but our numbers can overwhelm more than one room at the hotel. The room was huge, though accommodating us was no problem. We went out that night. There was really nothing to do in this town but it was pleasurable just to be here. We walked to the center of town, trying to secure another room. But we were unsuccessful, so we just accepted the fact that the room that we rented will be sufficient to sleep just for one night.
The next morning we trekked towards the big hole where my sister almost fell into. We admired the field. It was a slow trudge towards that hole and the field was populated with tall dried grass, right up to our ankles. We followed a footpath and by the time we reached the hole, the hole was hindered by a wooden fence. We saw the spray like what a whale would blow in its blowhole. The families scattered about. Some even trekked farther, towards the sea.
When we returned to our cars, we drove a short distance to the bay. It was quite hidden and in order to access it, we have to drive down the cliff, down to the sandy beach that offered a place to walk. It was low tide, and the beach was more expansive then. We followed a river emanating from the tall hills nearby and ending up towards that cove and into the sea. The tourist had already gone, and we were left alone along with a family or two roaming the beach.
It was a perfect day in Mendocino. There were more occasions I returned to this town for to be here was not because there were places to go and see but because it was rightly so that it was worth visiting. Mendocino was a town, indeed, that capture each visitor’s imagination. It was a town that captured the hearts of anyone who searched for peace and quiet. It was a place where one’s being was to meander its streets and find that in its loneliness, one could find oneself.
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