At last, El Paso again

On the hill overlooking El Paso

Below our plane, a city squeezed between a concrete river and imposing mountains. Across the thin channel a larger city, unlike any in the U.S., sprawled into the desert. We knew the landmarks below – El Paso, Juarez, the Franklin Mountains, Fort Bliss.

Since our ascent from El Paso in April 2014, this place has never been forgotten by Nancy or me. From where does our enthusiasm for El Paso spring? It’s a unique junction of cultures and landscapes.

To those unfamiliar with El Paso, its distance from the six other large Texas cities (the closes, San Antonio, is 550 miles away) constructs a feel of isolation. El Paso is a bustling border town, tied to Mexico and minutes from New Mexico. However, El Paso remains intrinsically Texan. Nor is El Paso the wild frontier town propagated by music and film.

Back in the shadow of the Franklins, we could only start where we left off. We had a clean car but needed a car wash. The bays were buzzing at The H&H Car Wash and Coffee Shop, where we had our last meal on our 2014 trip. It just worked out that picking up a rental car and setting up in our two-night rental placed us on Yandell while the coffee shop still served one of the best Tex-Mex meals anywhere.

H&H feast

During our meal, we were the only ones in the 25-seat coffee shop. Our breakfast at Love Field’s branch of Dallas stalwart La Madeleine had long since worn off. We had little choice but to indulge. Nancy had Chile Rellenos, I went with … well I can’t remember, but the dish was excellent and I have a picture (H&H has no website).

No one would accuse H&H of lacking character. The owner reamed out one of the ladies after a man came back to the coffee shop to pay for a soda left off his tab. Then he left, and the ladies went back to shutting down the coffee shop for the afternoon. I must note that they were the exact same crew of ladies who served us in April 2014. How many restaurants can claim such continuity? The lady running the register pegged us as tourists. We didn’t mind.

With apologies to Marty Robbins, it took a little effort to end up back on a hill overlooking El Paso. We were eager to ride the Wyler Peak Tramway, a cable car that into the Franklin Mountains. Heavy winds closed the tramway, squelching a highly anticipated start to our El Paso days. As we arrived the driver of an SUV also intending a tramway visit flipped the bird at the locked gate before speeding off.

Fortunately, El Paso has plenty of scenic vistas, even a Scenic Drive Park, an extension of Rim Drive that wraps slowly around the belly of the Mount Franklin, the namesake peak for the range rising at El Paso and the southern end of the Rocky Mountains in the U.S.

The many pulloffs and pocket parks provided excellent views onto the sister cities and their surrounding mountains. We stopped at rocky viewpoints and a more manicured park where a limo stopped for wedding pictures. It was not easy growing accustomed to staring into another country when the dividing line between the cities is so slim.

El Paso, with Juarez in the background

Nor did we always look into another country; as the Rio Grande turns north and grows green, the river briefly forms the Texas-New Mexico border. To the northwest stood Mount Christo Rey, a pilgrimage site across the river in New Mexico. The Catholic faithful walk the mountain to a 40-foot-tall stone-carved Christ sculpture at the peak. Some devotees even do the walk barefoot.

Mostly we marveled at the city. Cars always lined up at the floodlit international border crossings. Our hotel from our last trip, the El Camino Real, hid among downtown’s dense patch of 20-story skyscrapers common across western cities.

We drove around, skipping the interstate where possible and explored neighborhoods, marveling at blocks of houses so different from home. We stocked up for our week, loading up on bottled water and snacks for long drives and hours under the desert sun. After absorbing the views amid cool mountain air, we head for downtown El Paso, which we found in a major construction boom. The streets were torn up and it wasn’t suitable for a leisurely walk this Saturday.

Our rental was close to The University of Texas – El Paso, a uniquely stunning campus. A century ago, the wife of UTEP’s dean recommended using the architecture of the hermit kingdom after noticing similarities between the Franklin Mountains and those of Bhutan, the small Himalayan kingdom at that time mostly unknown to the outside world.

Almost every campus structure from academic buildings to parking garages in that style of Bhutan’s dzongs, one of the few specimens outside the Himalayas. The architecture homage created a foundation for cultural exchange with Bhutan. Seated north of downtown, UTEP’s architecture brought relief from sprawl and the design of new condominium developments.

Despite a clear day, the heat didn’t victimize us on the first day – spending time at higher elevations helped. Coming from the thick air of Nashville, the dryness hit us immediately. It was a welcome escape from the only summer we knew. As a spectacular twilight rolled in, we opted for Village Inn, a no-fuss tradition for both of us that predates our relationship. A straightforward dinner ended with a piece of pie suited a long travel day.

Afterward we ended a day of long travel over a bottle of Texas red in our two-day rental, a brick house where El Paso author Benjamin Alire Saenz once lived.

Last year I read his short-story collection, Everything Begins and Ends at the Kentucky Club, in which he chronicles El Paso and its sister city Juarez, each story at some point stopping at the famous Juarez bar a few blocks from the Rio Grande (during Prohibition, when Americans crossed the border to drink, the margarita was created at the Kentucky Club). With a different Mexican encounter planned, we would not try to cross into Juarez on this trip.

Another El Paso institution started our second day. Although the original Lucy’s Café was closed this Sunday (it’s a 12-seat coffee shop in a Mesa Street motel in walking distance of our weekend rental), the second Mesa location, which shares a building with the King’s X Bar. I went with Machaca breakfast, Nancy went with tamales and eggs. Every bite was wonderful.

El Paso has its share of new eateries but the tenacity of long-running family establishments adds a layer to the local cuisine. There were a dozen more places we could have picked, but the institutions delivered the goods – challenged taste buds, happy stomachs. It's a pity that a food show that spotlights those places has not made the journey to El Paso.

Later Sunday, just back from New Mexico, we cruised up North Mesa Street to survey its myriad dining options, settling on Block -Table and Tap. We share some small plates over beers and cocktails. El Paso seems hungry for visitors. The place where we live almost takes them for granted. Both the owner of our rental and the bartender at Block seemed surprised that we journey so far for their city. The bartender, an El Paso native, asked why and told us he had designs on moving to California. When prodded about why, he said he wanted to leave and it came down to “beach without an ocean.” Despite wanting to leave, the bartender talked to us about El Paso life.

After a stop at our temporary home, we walked to a few nearby bars. Prickly Elder poured generous cocktails among décor its designers pulled from a grandmother’s house. Old furniture, wallpaper, carpet and oldies on the television contributed. In the same building was Monarch, a bar with Goth overtones and lighting that supplied ample privacy.

With nearly 700,000 people, it would be difficult to cover El Paso in a short visit. There’ no way for me to do justice to the town in just 48 hours. But it has rapidly become a treasured place for us, a town that fits our sensibilities, a town of comforting mountains and international flavor that never grows old.