Valley

DELANO, Calif. — The rows of candies and nuts at the Guadalajara Meat Market — tamarindo con chile, seasoned pistachios, spicy paletas — sat mostly untouched as customers filtered through this carniceria in the late afternoon heat.

“You see a lot of people consuming the minimum, what they need to get by through the week,” said owner Carina Murillo, 31, as she checked out customers on a recent weekday. “Instead of buying six items, they’re buying three items.”

While customers bypass extras, like the snacks at the front counter, Murillo’s costs have gone up. Imported goods from Mexico and Canada have become more difficult to source and sometimes carry tariffs, she said. Transportation fees have risen as diesel prices respond to the war in Iran. The market’s insurance costs have risen by about a third. All of it has forced Murillo to increase prices.

“You see a lot of people consuming the minimum,” says Carina Murillo, owner of Guadalajara Meat Market. “Instead of buying six items, they’re buying three items.”

As the area struggles, Murillo, a college graduate who years ago felt motivated enough to door-knock for political causes, is among those who have become disillusioned. Those in Washington, she said, don’t understand the lives of the working people who keep the country running.

There have been “years where I feel completely overpowered to the point where I’m not motivated to take part,” said Murillo, who didn’t vote in 2024 but plans to do so in November. “That’s what happens when you feel discouraged or like nothing’s going to change.”

The economic strife plaguing Americans is clear in this rural, majority-Latino Central Valley congressional district, home to the state’s most competitive House race, the closely watched contest between Republican Rep. David Valadao and Democrat Randy Villegas.

Democrats hope the national economic angst will translate into big turnout in the midterm elections, but some in this region worry that years of financial struggle may depress voters’ desire to participate rather than motivate them.

Rep. David Valadao (R-Hanford) presides over a congressional hearing in March. The Republican is in a race against Democrat Randy Villegas that is considered a toss-up.

(Allison Robbert / Associated Press)

And Republicans, who rely on their party turnout beating that of Democrats in rural areas, also face the risk that frustration with the current political climate could dampen enthusiasm.

“Before they can think about Valadao, before Trump or Gavin Newsom or who’s going to run, families are concerned with the immediate: paying the rent, having the food on the table,” said Eliseo Gamiño, who heads the Central Valley Leadership Round Table, a coalition of Latino community leaders and elected officials. “You can’t be thinking about voting when your kids are hungry.”

Few voters who spoke to The Times in this swing district were decided on which party to support in November — or whether to vote at all. Such undecided voters will likely decide the election outcome, and persuading them is the key challenge for both parties as November nears.

Alexa Lopez sweeps up at closing time on a slower than usual Friday that saw one dress sold at Christina’s Fashion in Delano.

In a district that is the third-youngest in population in the country, the simmering uncertainty among Gen Z and millennial voters in particular could affect turnout or results.

Thirty-one percent of its voting-age population is 29 or younger, according to the Tufts University research center CIRCLE, which tracks youth civic engagement, making it among the top swath of House races in which young people could swing the outcome.

California’s swingiest district

The 22nd District, carved from the state’s agricultural epicenter, is one of fewer than two dozen toss-up races nationwide that will likely determine which party controls the U.S. House in the second half of President Trump’s current term. It is also among several high-stakes races nationwide that will test progressive candidates.

Valadao’s seat has long been considered a vulnerable one; Democrats added about 100,000 Fresno residents to the district under Proposition 50’s new map in a bid to help their chances. The boundaries include swaths of Kern, Kings and Tulare counties, along with a very small piece of Madera County.

“It’s going to be crucial in an area that is more purple, more bipartisan, where it’s very clear it can go either way … that these candidates make an effort to get those voters on their team,” said Brittany Martinez, a California-based Republican strategist.

Valadao, 49, who comes from a dairy farming family, is well known in the district and has repeatedly secured victory in close races, retaking the seat in 2020 after losing it in 2018’s blue wave. He saw a close race in 2022, then won by nearly seven percentage points in 2024, outperforming Trump.

His biggest vulnerability this time around may be his vote for the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which included steep cuts to Medicaid. Local hospitals are bracing for funding cuts, though a carve-out may keep many valley residents from losing coverage. The district has the highest proportion of Medi-Cal recipients of any in the state, with 67% of residents enrolled as of 2025, according to the California Health Care Foundation.

Valadao spent part of the August recess touring the Central Valley for private meetings with local entities including a hospital, a housing program, a sawmill and a school district, and held a telephone town hall last week. Democrats have criticized him for not holding face-to-face voter events, including public town halls.

Democratic candidate Randy Villegas chats with residents during an August town hall in Hanford.

Villegas, 31, a professor and school board member who was endorsed by Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) and is aligned with the Working Families Party, bested a Democrat backed by the party’s House campaign arm to win the nomination.

Villegas has banked on a more public-facing approach to win over swing voters — recently handing out popsicles from a pushcart he wheeled around a Labor Day event in Bakersfield, for instance — a strategy his campaign calls “going everywhere.” Republicans have criticized his record as too far left for the moderate district.

Both candidates have attempted to lean away from partisan narratives. Valadao rarely mentions Trump on social media and did not attend the president’s Republican convention in Dallas last week; Villegas has worked to frame the progressive issues he champions as an effort to help Central Valley voters rather than an ideology.

Trump carried the district as drawn now by less than 2 percentage points in 2024. Since then, residents say they have felt squeezed by housing, gas and grocery prices. The war in Iran has pinched Central Valley farmers — already struggling with water supply and other issues — by driving up fertilizer prices.

Ailyn Flores, center, picks up balloons for a party at Big Delano Discount store.

Tyler Stidham, 28, and her husband recently moved back to Lemoore from San José with their 1-year-old in order to live with family because they could no longer afford their own place.

“Rent got too high and having a family is expensive,” she said as the couple waited for their order from a food truck at the Hanford farmers market on a recent Thursday evening. They have cut out family trips and started meal-planning and budgeting to save money.

Stidham said she is planning to vote and hoping government leaders can make life more affordable. Her husband recalled a favorable impression of Valadao after once meeting him. Stidham isn’t sure who she’ll be casting her vote for.

“I haven’t done my research [yet],” she said.

Young voters said they felt frustrated waiting for a better economy that has yet to materialize.

“I feel like the government is playing in our face. I feel like everything is a show,” said Emma Woodward, 23, of Hanford.

The Sierra movie theater has closed down in Delano, Calif.

(Gary Kazanjian / For The Times)

A store manager at a coffee chain, Woodward bought a house last year to avoid throwing money at increasingly high rent payments, but it has been “hard to survive.” She got a roommate to help with costs, but the two of them sometimes find themselves using food drives for groceries. She has cut out “fun spending,” including concerts and travel.

Woodward said she wanted to vote in order to send the message to Congress that the economy needs improvement. She, too, wanted to research the candidates further; she leaned toward Villegas but was not yet convinced.

‘Whatever happens happens’

Valadao and Villegas must also battle to reach apathetic voters — those who may sit the election out or who are fed up with both parties. In one indication of voter fatigue, local organizers have found it a challenge to register new voters this year.

Dresses on display at Christina’s Fashion store after closing time on a quiet Friday night in Delano, Calif.

People who are unregistered often express mistrust in the government and the feeling that “nothing’s going to change,” said Biviana Camacho, 23, civic engagement program manager for Loud for Tomorrow, a youth organizing group based in Delano that runs voter registration events.

“A lot of folks have been in survival mode for such a long time,” she added, as the group worked on planning a fall event series on a recent afternoon. Their goal: 20 to 25 new registrations per event.

The group’s head of membership, Rosanai Paniagua, 28, agreed. “Here, there’s not a lot of hope because people haven’t seen what good policy could do for them,” she said. “A lot of apathy, for sure, because change hasn’t really happened here.”

Marco Estrada, 20, taking a break outside the Main Street barbershop where he works in Delano, said he wasn’t sure he could imagine anything Congress could do for him. He’s never voted and doesn’t plan to in November. His two co-workers said the same.

“Whatever happens happens,” Estrada said.

Valeria Valdez, a College of the Sequoias freshman, said she was planning to vote in her first election and said the government should help lower gas prices. The 18-year-old wasn’t sure, though, whether she would make a decision in the House race.

“It feels pretty far away from me, to be honest,” she said. “I just want to do what I can for our community and not focus on how corrupt the government is.”

That sentiment is part of what Villegas is aiming to target as he meets voters.

“It’s easy to feel cynical and apathetic in a moment where so many things seem stacked against us,” Villegas said in an interview. “But I tell people that … their vote and their voices do matter, otherwise we wouldn’t have billionaires and corporations spending millions of dollars trying to influence these election outcomes.”

A spokesperson for Valadao did not respond to a request for comment. Valadao said on a Washington Sun podcast in January that he “absolutely” worries about Republican voter enthusiasm, but noted it was a problem on both sides of the aisle. Earlier this month, he conveyed confidence about his race.

“I’ve won in these types of races. I can win again,” he told the Associated Press. “I think we should be fine.”

Inside Murillo’s market, business picked up as 5 o’clock neared. Murillo rang up tortillas, cuts of meat, and three-liter Mexican soda bottles. She advised a customer about treating a bug bite, helped a man wire money and cajoled a city worker about getting a sidewalk repair.

Congress should “definitely” be helping communities like hers, she said. She plans to research her voting options so she can participate in November. But trusting political candidates, she mused, can feel like a risk for voters.

“Whether they execute what they promise or not,” she said, “that’s shown with time.”

The drive to Pedrovo is vertiginous, and each hairpin bend has me sending a silent prayer that we won’t meet a tractor coming the other way. When we near it, we abandon the car and continue on foot to the hamlet, a scattering of red-roofed, whitewashed houses high on the steep karst hillside. The air is warm and dry, scented with wild sage.

We follow a hand-painted sign to Čilčevi Farmstead. Descending stone steps to a lush garden, we find a shaded table set with fresh cheeses produced at the farm’s own dairy. Below, the valley stretches in both directions, a wide flat plain hemmed in by steep mountain slopes, with the Vipava River winding lazily through fields and vineyards.

If the Vipava valley gets a mention in a Slovenian guidebook, it’s usually as a wine region footnote. The area is an hour’s drive south-west of Ljubljana, meeting Italy at the cross-border city of Nova Gorica (called Gorizia on the Italian side). Most visitors skip it in favour of the Soča valley to the north, drawn to the turquoise river and opportunities for rafting on the rapids.

Vipava is a landscape shaped by a strong wind, the burja, which barrels down from the Alps, keeping the red earth arid, the trees bent low, and creating the perfect terrain for dry wines and dried meats. Tourism has traditionally been less of a focus, but I’m here with my family to meet local entrepreneurs and producers, to learn how this valley is building a genuine visitor experience that works for the community.

Part of the reason for the slow development of tourism has been the scarcity of accommodation, save a few nondescript business hotels and a handful of holiday cottages. One place that’s helping change that narrative is Wellba, a boutique guesthouse in the village of Planina, where an old abandoned farmstead has been converted into self-catering apartments and guest rooms by a local couple, working with traditional craftspeople and salvaged materials.

Marko and Tereza Kobal grew up on this hillside and then worked in Ljubljana before deciding to return to build a family business, striving to create the kind of place they seek out when travelling. “People who travel want to experience something that is just the way it is, without embellishment, pretence, exaggeration – somewhere authentic,” says Marko. We enter Wellba through a traditional “black kitchen”, its walls darkened by generations of wood smoke. “When we came here the building needed work but it had a real soul. We want the building to stand for another 300 years, so we took the renovation slowly and carefully.”

Our light, spacious accommodation wears its history lightly, with plenty of space for playing card games and reading books on the balcony, with views of the neighbouring farmyard and the valley beyond. Next door, another tumble-down farm building will be converted and opened in 2027. The couple are also working on a boutique hotel in Vipava town in the valley below. The dream is for their children to run Wellba one day, forging their futures in this valley.

Across Vipava, similar small projects are emerging: small, family-run and developing slowly and thoughtfully. Tom Ločniškar and Borut Kokalj began Čilčevi Farmstead during the pandemic, having moved to Pedrovo and become interested in farming. “We started to keep animals. Now we have 150, which is too many animals for just a hobby,” laughs Tom.

He recalls the mad panic to source equipment before the lockdowns began. The pandemic also brought him his first customers, people who were out walking and keen to support local businesses. Tom and Borut keep local Istrska sheep and Drežnica goats, which graze on dry karst grasslands, changing pastures across this hillside every four days. Having tasted fresh cheese straight from the chill of the dairy, including creamy goat’s cheese with fenugreek and buttery mature sheep’s cheese, we walk uphill to meet the goats.

Tom says that in the early 1900s around 1,000 people lived in Pedrovo, but by the 1970s the permanent population had fallen to just two, and remained that low until the 1990s. “The village was almost abandoned because people moved to the cities,” he says. “It was the same in a lot of hill villages: life was hard and tractors didn’t work on steep slopes.” Today the population has risen to 20, with second homeowners roughly doubling that number in the holidays.

Elsewhere in the village, I meet Alenka and Mark Smerajc, who were one of the first families to return, raising three children and running a business here. Today they have two small holiday cottages in what were farm outbuildings and run a relaxed courtyard restaurant for guests, opening to the public at weekends and for holidays. “People wanted food,” shrugs Alenka, as her teenage children help bring out beautiful plates of handmade pasta with local cheese and wild herbs from the kitchen.

“In Vipava valley there was no tourism, so we got to decide how to build it,” says Jani Peljhan. That means GPS-guided cycling tours along roads too small to merit signposts, and experimenting with “wine trains”, carrying visitors from Nova Gorica to the vineyards with local winemakers on board to lead tasting sessions.

Jani’s company, Wajdušna, also offers hiking and paragliding, both gaining in popularity here. He meets us at Wellba with some e-bikes and we pedal through Ajdovščina to spot Roman ruins, and up to Vipavski Križ, famed for being one of the smallest towns in Slovenia, before zigzagging back up the other side of the valley through vineyards. The warmth of the afternoon and the steep hillsides makes me appreciate the “sport” mode on the bikes.

In other regions, wine tourism often means visitor centres and branded experiences. In Vipava it still means sitting in someone’s kitchen. At Vina Lisjak in Zalošče, I eat at a little restaurant run by two brothers. “We opened the restaurant to show the wine,” says Peter Lisjak. “It’s all from our farm.” We eat generous platters of house dried meat, aged mountain cheeses, a fennel frittata and slow-cooked celeriac steaks with celery pesto and spinach. Dishes are served family style and there’s plenty of time for stories, with samples of delicious wine straight from the barrels in the cellar.

From Wellba, we walk across the village to Ferjančič vineyard, where seventh generation winemaker Matic Ferjančič talks us through his wines. His father developed the vineyard, going from five to 50,000 plants. “We work hard in the vineyard to make it easy in the cellar,” he says. As we chat, Matic keeps an ear to the baby monitor for the eighth generation sleeping upstairs.

Although many of my favourite restaurant experiences are the simple ones, Vipava valley cuisine can reach loftier heights. One night we smarten up the best we can and follow a winding road uphill to Zemono Manor, to eat at Gostilna Pri Lojzetu. Chef Tomaž Kavčič is known as a Slovenian slow food pioneer, and has earned a Michelin star for his playful dishes and proud use of local ingredients.

We eat delicate Vipava river trout with fermented apricots from the previous summer, and langoustine bisque from the coast. Traditional dishes such as jota, a sauerkraut and potato stew, are honoured on the menu, their humble roots celebrated not hidden. There are some theatrics, like a juniper plant producing flavoured vapour to complement a sorbet, but the restaurant atmosphere is friendly and relaxed. The server chats with my young stepson about his preferences, and brings him a generous bowl of gnocchi. It’s Kavčič’s night off so he sits with friends and a bottle of wine at the back of the restaurant, coming round all the tables frequently to chat.

Vipava may not remain overlooked for ever. But talking to the people building businesses here, there is little appetite for becoming the next famous wine destination. What they seem to want instead is something rarer and more interesting: tourism that helps a place thrive without changing what made it worth visiting in the first place.

The trip was provided by Vipava Valley Tourism and the Slovenian Tourist Board. Wellba Planina has doubles from £97