As soon as I saw the man in the window flip over sizzling bundles of taquitos in an open-aired vat of bubbling oil, I knew I had found where I wanted to eat that afternoon on Olvera Street.
He lifted one of the taquitos up out of the deep-fryer, shaking it of excess oil, and then proceeded to drop it on a paper plate, scoop some refried beans on the side and spoon some avocado salsa over the taquitos. Beautiful.
Seeing how my food is prepared always wins me over, but it was rather difficult to settle on a lunchtime option amid the multitude of vendors along downtown Los Angeles’ Olvera Street.
A preserved historic district, also known as “El Pueblo de Los Angeles Historical Monument,” Olvera Street is located across the street from Union Station and isolated from the rest of Alameda Street by an adobe wall and a doorway. Its entrance reminded me of “Harry Potter’s” Diagon Alley; one step over the threshold and you’ve entered a narrow, winding, noisy and ““ yes, even a little magical ““ boulevard filled with wares, food and crowds of people.
A condensed, crowded, mini-Mexican road, the length of Olvera Street is jam-packed with vendors selling hand-woven bags, jewelry, hats, knitted peasant blouse shirts, souvenirs, candles and candy. Flanked on both sides of the road by kiosks with wares stacked on one top of the other, knowing what to look at seems nearly impossible. Many of the vendors sell the same items.
Packs of loterÃa, or bingo, in plastic packaging, small oval-shaped yellow boxes filled with Guatemalan worry dolls, key-chains strung with miniature leather sandals, striped pink, turquoise, and yellow woven bags on long straps, sets of castanets and miniature clay pots proved some of the most popular bets.
Some stores are even set off from the main road, tucked underground. After walking down narrow, wooden steps, I found one store filled from floor to ceiling with Virgin Mary magnets, rosaries and painted plates. The shopkeeper stood behind the counter, almost completely hidden by the rows of Virgin Mary portraits that hung behind her.
The thick, smoky-sweet smell of patchouli rose from another underground store that was only selling candles, incense and wind chimes. The rustle and clang of bells from the store joined the cacophony of people chattering, mariachi bands playing and vendors hocking churros and candy on the street.
Olvera Street pays homage to a vision of romantic old Mexico with its restoration of some of the original homes of 19th century settlers. The “Avila Adobe,” preserved inside the confines of Olvera Street, is Los Angeles’ oldest home built by Francisco Avila, a wealthy ranchero and mayor of Los Angeles from 1810 to 1811. While only seven of the Adobe’s original rooms remain, visitors can peer into a dusty-floored kitchen with a clay fireplace, a small adobe-walled bedroom with a Victorian-style wooden bed and the central living room space, reconstructed with a delicately carved wooden table, chairs and piano.
While Avila Adobe proves the main historical attraction, jaunts down some of Olvera Street’s alleyways lead to small, reconstructed rooms as well, including the bedroom of one of Los Angeles’s most wealthy and powerful women, Señora Sepúlveda (sound a little familiar?). Her recreated Victorian bed, set behind glass, contrasted with the broad colors and wares right outside the reconstructed alleyway.
Last weekend, Olvera Street celebrated Cinco de Mayo, adding even more to the street’s vibrancy and ““ perhaps in some ways ““ its controlled chaos. In its central plaza, mariachi bands rotated throughout the day playing traditional tunes.
Yet on the other edge of the historic district, another band set up shop. Teenagers propped up speakers and tacked a poster of Che Guevara to the front of a turntable. The DJ spun hip-hop with Spanish and English lyrics.
This plaza courtyard seemed entirely devoted to youth culture with contemporary art on display by local artists. A group of three teens set up their canvases in front of the band’s courtyard. A boy painted a silhouette of a girl baring skeletal teeth with the backdrop of a Mexican flag behind her while another young girl painted a portrait of a rich orange and red-hued pueblo. They dipped their paintbrushes on the same palette.
Potbellied little kids licking tart tamarind-flavored lollipops ogled at each brush stroke the teenagers made on the canvas.
The romanticizing of Mexico along Olvera Street’s main stretch seemed to appeal primarily to tourism, but the contrast between the traditional mariachi and the contemporary hip-hop cultures seemed a poignant reminder that this historical stretch, too, holds significance for Angelenos.
Olvera Street may primarily be known as a tourist attraction, but its color and its liveliness seem a center of pride as well.
If you already knew Sepulveda was named after the wealthy Los Angeles Senora, then e-mail Cohn at jcohn@media.ucla.edu.