This city is the oldest city on the Pacific Coast of the Americas. A few hundred years ago, several fires destroyed most of the colonial buildings. That's why so few true examples of Spanish colonial architecture exist today.
This part of the city, the so-called "second city," is steeped in history, with a real sense of tradition.
Every year, a week of concerts all over the city culminates here, with a free concert to beat all free concerts. A big stage has been erected in the plaza. The crowd is "eclectic"...surfer types, preppy soccer-moms, kids from the neighborhood...a human hodgepodge swaying to the music.
A sonorous bass sends vibrations over the cracked concrete to where I stand; it makes my feet buzz. Vendors in the plaza are selling smoky kebabs. There's even raspao, fruity snow cones you can get topped with sticky condensed milk (for five cents extra) and the powdery crunch of malt. The man making mine has no machine to crush the ice; he scrapes it with a big shaver, packing the fine crystals into a conical cup. I pay him 30 cents.
Today, this city is a mix of the contemporary and the crumbling, a study in contrasts. You find over 300 years of history here in the colonial sector.
Can you guess where this is?
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