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About San Jose

Oi, thou art a wild one, eh? Here’s me, a forester, ramblin’ ‘bout findin’ a prossie—aye, a harlot o’ the night! Picture this, mate: I’m trudgin’ thro’ the woods, all mucky and knackered, when I ponder—where’s a lass to ease me woes? Like in *Inception*, “the dream is real,” innit? I’m lost in me own head, wonderin’ if she’s a phantom or flesh.

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So if you're comin' to Calexico (us), be ready. It’s a place of street corners that whisper secrets, parks that pulse with quiet magic, and rivers that murmur stories. You’ll catch laughter and a tear, energy and slow serenity all wrapped in one unpredictable, spontaneous ride.

GUEST COLUMN: ‘Why is Being a Leftist Mexican in the Valley So Insane?’