[Note: part of this post was originally published in April 2019]
My sister Joy, who lives south of Tucson, suggested–actually insisted–that we go to a cantina in Arivaca to have lunch. “Best burgers I’ve ever had”, she claimed.
Arivaca is not on the road to anywhere else except for a few ranches and a Boy Scout camp. It doesn’t even have a road going directly to the Border.
To go there one has to drive over a twisting, rolling 2-lane desert road where Open Range signs and cattle guards appear every couple of miles. Open Range means that ranches do not necessarily have fences around their herds of cattle and that you might run into cows on the road. And cows have the right of way. Fortunately no cattle ambled across the road. In April 2019 there was too much rare and delicious green grass on the shoulder for them to wander elsewhere.
After picking up Joy at her home I drove into this tiny desert town, leaving behind the miles and miles of cattle ranches. Suddenly I saw one of those 3 wheel motorcycles with no rider on board begin to roll out onto the road in right front of us. I slammed on the brakes, jumped out of the car and dashed into the nearest building which housed an office of some type and asked the woman if it was her bike. “No. Not mine.”
“Probably belongs to someone in the bar,” my sister said after I parked and we walked into La Gitana Cantina. “They’ll come get it eventually. Nobody will run into it.” So the motorcycle remained on the road.
La Gitana means “The Gypsy” and images of gypsies as interpreted over the decades appear in this establishment starting with a sculpture on the roof of this old adobe building.
From left: the front of the cantina with a sculpture on the roof. A photo of 3 previous murals on the wall in the cantina. The current gypsy mural on the wall.
Not only the oldest bar, but the oldest inhabited townsite! If true that would mean Arivaca was founded back in the late 1600s or early 1700s. I wonder if Native Americans had a village here?
What you don’t see in these photos are the signs at the front door stating that guns are not permitted in the Cantina and that Militia members are not welcome. (For full disclosure: we were raised in a home with long guns in our parents’ closet. My father hunted every Fall and we ate what he shot over the winter.)
As I soon learned from Joy, Arivaca sits at the heart of the conflict between humanitarian aid for border crossers and the self-declared, gun-carrying Arizona Militia which happily tracks down border-crossers and holds them for the Border Patrol. Unlike at Nogales or Calexico, there is no road leading right into Mexico. And no fence. Just miles and miles of rolling desert hills and mountains–the way the border has always been. Arivaca is actually mentioned by name in the book “American Dirt” as being unfriendly to border-crossers and I can believe that after seeing Trump flag after Trump flag at the entrance to ranches as, later, I drove home to Tucson.
Looking south into Mexico. The border lies somewhere between the grass at the edge of this view point and the mountains in the distance where people have traveled back and forth for centuries. There is no border wall or fence, no razor-sharp concertina wire, but locals know exactly where the border is.
Over lunch on the patio–the burgers were very very good–I told my sister about the strange conversation I had crossing back into Nogales AZ in March, 2019. The agent had asked me if I had been looking for work in Nogales MX. Immediately, Joy said: “He thought you were over there doing humanitarian aid.” That made perfect sense. She also explained that the People Helping People group works on both sides of the border. So that mystery is solved. And in one of those fickle finger of fate co-incidences: the building I had dashed into because of the rolling motorcycle was the Arivaca office of People Helping People.
The cantina had only a few customers in it during lunch hour. The bar, which is a newer building than the adobe one in front, is a big, dark, high-ceiling room with pool tables so we opted to eat on the patio. Apparently it’s much busier at night.
“Party on the patio” pretty much says it all. Nice mural!
It was a patio-perfect day. Sunshine, warm breezes, delicious food and time with my sister.
When I went to Arivaca again in October 2020 I wandered around and took a few photos…
From left: An old adobe home recently painted. Garlands of broken bottles on a salvaged wood fence. And the Arivaca Community Resource center where anyone can pick up donated clothing or other necessary items no questions asked.
My sister Joy Bittner in a semi-enclosed ramada at her home in April 2019 looking over at her favorite cat. She became a “cat lady” after moving to Arivaca. She was a free spirit and a lifetime hippie so it was very appropriate that we had lunch at a place called “The Gypsy”. She passed away in late October, 2020.
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Arizona News: Arizona went to Biden. Joy would have liked that but I bet those ranchers near Arivaca are not happy. I hope that Biden stops the wall on Day One. It has destroyed many Native American sacred sites along the border.
Fascinating post, as always And am so very sorry that your sister passed away.
Thank you. She lived a life that was rich in experiences and friends and was true to what might be called “hippie values”.