Wild Tijuana Saturday night in December, 2004

From our home in Roseville, to San Ysidro, at the Mexican border, it's a distance of 548 miles. I left our home December 4, 2004 at 0515, and checked into the Best Western Americana Motel in San Ysidro, 2 miles north of the Mexican border at 1415. That's not bad time, considering that I had to fight nerve-wracking traffic while driving through the Los Angeles area.

After checking into the motel, the first thing that I did was go to a nearby cambio, to change some dollars into pesos. At the time of my visit in December of 2004, the exchange rate was 11.15 pesos per each dollar; not too bad. After all, I was headed to Mexico, a foreign country, and I needed the local currency.

Next stop was the secure parking lot at the border, on the east side of the freeway. It costs $7.00 a day to park, and I have no complaints as that's a lot less than parking for a professional sporting event and the lot is safe secure; you don't need to worry about your car getting broken into. The really nice thing about this lot is that shuttle buses run from the lot into Mexico, and will drop you off on Ave. Revolucion, in the heart of Tijuana's shopping district. At $2.50 each way, the service is a real bargain.

However, I like to walk, as that's the best way to get an up-close, intimate look at any area. So, I basically hiked to the border fence, went through the revolving gate, and was instantly transported into a different world, the world of Mexico.

It never ceases to amaze me how different Mexico is from the U.S., considering the countries border each other. I have read that no two countries are closer, yet so far apart, and Tijuana is an excellent example of this theory. Tijuana is about as different from San Ysidro, as Mars is to Earth. After crossing through the border gate, the first thing you notice are the beggars, the street vendors selling cheap souvenirs, the food vendors selling tacos and elotes and the smell, specifically the smell of slimy water and garbage. You're immediately in sensory overload, because everything is so different.

Left: You're just south of the border and if you care to walk to downtown Tijuana, take a right just past the huge McDonald's restaurant. Better yet, take a taxi. Right: Aloha Club's hawker is doing his thing to lure some potential patrons into one of the may nightclubs located on Av. Revolucion.

I was disappointed that either the walkway over the river, through the bazaar, route to downtown no longer exists, or I couldn't find it. I hiked as far as the bus station, which is only a couple blocks south of the border, and paused to figure out what to do next. Editor's note: The walkway does exist, I just couldn't find it. After the large McDonald's restaurant, turn right at Plaza Viva Tijuana, and keep walking and you'll find it. Check out my chapter in this article about walking across the border, and the walk to Av. Revolucion.

Tijuana's bus terminal is a rather interesting place. It's a transportation hub for local city busses, regional busses and long-distance busses, and a regular beehive of activity. Outside, the sidewalk is festooned with street vendors, selling everything from tacos to junk jewelry. There is a guy outside the station that shouts the bus number and it's destination though a megaphone, amid lots of wild gesturing and shouting.

I hopped on a bus that had a sign in front that read "El Centro" in the assumption that it would take me downtown. I was right, and after a five-minute bus ride through chaotic traffic, I exited the bus on Ave. Revolucion, amid one of the most famous shopping areas on the North American continent.

Most large cities have chaotic traffic, and Tijuana is no exception. However, the city has grown so fast that the infrastructure has been unable to keep up with the growth, and the result is confusion and near-gridlock. The streets are narrow, poorly lit, and feature pot-holes galore. At least in "El Centro," the streets are marked quite well, with easy-to-read signs. Some of the city streets aren't paved, or only partially paved. When you walk the sidewalks, you'd better pay attention to where you're walking, as the curves are uneven in height, pavement is uneven in height or missing, and objects can protrude from the concrete. Many of the side streets lack any kind of lighting, the only lighting comes from buildings.

Like in most large cities, Tijuana's motorists are in a constant hurry, and their driving habits seem reflect it. I observed lots of jostling for optimum position, cutting each other off, running stop signs and stop lights, driving very aggressive and too fast for the narrow, poorly-lit streets, and just about any bad driving habit that you could imagine. Horns are in constant use. I couldn't help but to notice that the city infrastructure is barely adequate, so when you combine that with lots of traffic, poor driving habits and constant irritation, you have a rather interesting situation. In Tijuana, you have a mix of passenger cars, taxis, city busses and delivery trucks competing for roadway in a less-than-ideal environment and a decaying infrastructure. It's pretty crazy and I would not recommend driving your car in Tijuana.

The Tijuana city police force is very active on Ave. Revolucion, as you can see their white and blue cruisers driving up and down the street. Tijuana also has the "cowboy cops," with is a white and blue police pick-up truck, with two officers riding in the bed armed with shotguns.

Left: This place solves the language barrier by letting you order from the menu, in pictures. Right: This restaurant seems to specialze in birria, menudo, posole and tocos. Ymmmmm...

I have an eye towards beauty, and I noticed that Tijuana has many beautiful women. They tend to dress differently than their counterparts in the U.S.; many wear light jeans, leather shoes or boots and lots of gold jewelry. Wow! You don't see many ladies wearing Nikes, or other shoes of that type. I noticed the preferred styles for hair seems to be rolled-up with sticks protruding from their hair, or permed. I noticed that many of them were chatting on cell phones as they went about their business, in a cosmepolitan manner.

I was dressed the way most local men dress in Tijuana, as I was wearing boots, blue jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, yet I seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. It was, like, I was wearing a glow-in-the-dark suit with a sign that said gringo painted on me. However, the locals were friendly to me, as I attempted to keep a low profile, keep a smile on my face and converse in Spanish at all times!

I attempt to be discreet when I take pictures, and when that isn't possible, I try to ask the person for permission to snap a person's photo. I'm especially well-behaved in a foreign country, and especially in Mexico. After all, I am an American citizen and, therefore, a representative of the United States. I don't understand why so many Americans have a low opinion of the Mexican people, as they're friendly and hard working. Maybe they can sense that I don't have an attitude and truly enjoy spending time in their country.

Ave. Revolucion is the main tourist area of Tijuana, and it has been fixed-up very nicely, to welcome the crowds of shoppers that prowl the many stores. The sidewalks are nicely paved with bricks, the area is well-lighted and the street is clean. It's a shopper's paradise, as there are countless stores that sell just about anything you could want. Yes, there are many cheap souvenir and junk-jewelry stores, but there are also stores that sell finely-crafted indigenous products, such as beautifully stitched cowboy boots, leather belts and locally-crafted wool blankets. Av. Revolucion, like most Mexican border towns also sports numberous farmacias, or pharmacies.

Ave. Revolucion is in blessed with many honky-tonks, discotheques and strip clubs, most of which will have a hawker on the sidewalk trying to entice you in. The ones in front of the strip clubs are the funniest, because they will yell at you and tell you about all the fine, unclothed women inside and how reasonable their prices are. The ones I though were the funniest were the ones that would come up to you and say something like, "Pssssst, we have Maria with the big mama-jamas inside, you gotta come see her, man." Some of them can be very aggressive, although most of them will leave you alone when you tell them politely and firmly, "No, pero gracias." Naturally, I was solicited by several prostitutes, despite the fact that prostitution is illegal in "El Centro" and perfectly legal in the "Zona Norte," a few blocks to the north.

Left: The Aloha Club, one of the famous strip-clubs on Av. Revolucion. Right: After stepping inside the bar that faces the street, I purchased a beer from Miguel, the friendly bartender.

After walking around awhile, I got thirsty, so I decided to go into the Aloha Club, which has an open air bar that faces the sidewalk. The hawker on the sidewalk was a young guy, actually quite a character, and he immediately led me to the bar. I told the bartender, in Spanish, that I wanted a Pacifico; he mistook that I wanted two Pacificos, one for me and one for the girl of my choice, inside at the adjacent strip club. I started laughing and told him that I am married and I didn't come here to try to pick on a bar girl, or even watch a strip show. The bartender gave me his most macho pose; how I could resist not to take his picture? I took my beer, sat down at a table near the sidewalk, and watched the hawker entice new patrons in the bar.

By now, it was time to get something to eat. Tijuana has many fine restaurants, with any cuisine that you could imagine, but when I'm in Mexico, I prefer to eat what's known as street food. Ave. Revolucion does not have push-cart vendors, like the kind that are found around the bus station, but it has lots of taco stands and open air restaurants. I noted lots of signs that advertise barbacoa and birra, but I didn't really see any for sale, and I asked around at several restaurants; I would have scooped some up birra or barbacoa in a heartbeat. I noticed that many of the stands feature hamburguesas, but I didn't come all of the way to Mexico for a hamburger! I wound up at Leyva's Tacos, and had a delicious meal of carne asada and pork tacos.

Left: I stopped at Leyva's Tacos for a taco and a beer; click on the image to read my write-up of the restaurant. Right: These guys operate a pay-as-you-go operation, the first of it's kind I'd ever seen in Mexico. Normally in Mexico, taco stands and taquerias operate on the honor system, but hey, I'm in Tijuana!

By now, yawn, it was around eight o'clock; since it had been a long day and tomorrow would come early, I decided to call it a day. Walking back to the border, along the dark, narrow streets of Tijuana isn't an option, so I decided to shell out $5.00 to take a cab back to the border. So I found a cab, gave the driver $5.00, piled into the back seat for a relaxing trip to the border.

Relaxing? No! Hectic? Yes! We immediately pulled out into the swirling mass that is the local Tijuana traffic. My taxi driver was a pro, he could dodge other vehicles, out run them, and race with the best of them. Tijuana has many intersections that have no stop signs or traffic lights, and the best that I can tell, the law of the jungle prevails. Traffic is very heavy and horns are in constant use. I lost track of how many times we were almost sideswiped. There were several times that I just knew we were going to rear-in the car in front of us, but my driver always avoided a collision at the last second.

Near the traffic circle that has a statue of Benito Juarez in the center, a woman stepped out in front of us and the driver barely missed her. She flipped him off, and the driver muttered "mujer loca" and I busted out laughing. I explained that we refer to that certain obscene gesture as "la dedra de la pajara" (the bird) but he gave me a blank look.

The driver dumped me off near the border. I didn't have a clue of where to go, so I asked the cab driver, and he pointed in the general direction and took off. I still didn't have a clue of where to go, so I went over to another taco stand, and asked one of the guys where the walkway was to the U.S. He explained that I had to walk up and over the street, and told me to go to the white railing and the signs would direct me to the border. Ten minutes later, I was back in the U.S., having breezed through customs.

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