Mexico On Foot-A Journey into the Unknown

We headed to Mexico on our so cal tour, all the business was done with and we were so close to the border it seemed like a good idea. Being so close to a foreign border is weird, I’ve never experienced it. All my travels internationally involve  aircraft, except that one little jaunt into the frozen north, Canada, but that’s another story.
Mexico has a certain reputation, the poor sister to America and even close to the border it shows. We had told people we were going, knowledgable people and they gave us a heads up, Mexico for lunch is fine but be home before dark… Yikes!

What do they get up to over there? I was actually nervous!  As we got closer and the signs started to appear my travel anxiety kicked in, are we doing the right thing? Maybe we shouldn’t go, what if something happened? But the best advice we were given was to park and walk. Taking an American rental car into Mexico is a bad idea at best, even worse should something actually happen and so with the sign looming we veered in at the very last second, seeing the words ‘last USA exit’ sure can strike some fear in the timid traveller.

With the car safely stowed on U.S. soil and all our worldly belongings entrusted to the vehicle’s storage, we head south to the border and the promise of an adventure-good or bad yet to be determined.
As we walked up the ramp, taxis milled around. Waiting for that passenger from south of the border, we passed shoppers and school kids and Customs and border patrol agents walking back, who eyed us with a suspicion which comes from years in a hostile place, as we descended the stairs I pointed to one illegal who was being escorted back to Mexico, let’s just say he wasn’t happy.

This heightened my nerves, and with nerves comes pee, or maybe that was the 2 double espressos I’d had at breakfast, whatever the cause I needed to go, bad, and so against my better judgement I separated from My Lord Dr King and headed for the safety of Mcdonalds and their less than average but working facilities. I was thwarted though, pipped at the post by a measly quarter, you wanna pee here on the border you have to pay. I didn’t have any change-it was eaten by the meters in Beverly Hills. So I talked myself out of peeing and went back to find My Lord Dr King who was fighting with an atm for cash.
Once we were reunited and cashed up for our adventure, hand in hand, we headed up the ramp to Mexico.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t what we got. Mexico, it seems, has an open door policy, no one there checking papers, passport stamping or patting you down for illegal possessions. The only warning we got was back on the highway about a mile, with a big sign stating firearms are illegal in Mexico. Good to know!
And so with some trepidation we walked through the big turnstile to Mexico, just like we were heading to a midtown subway.

The difference was immediate, where America’s ramp was clean and neat and well kemp, Mexico’s ramp was dirty and dilapidated and damaged, covered in graffiti and gum every where you stepped. As we continued down a ramp which took us through a building, there were armed guards and a couple of border customs personnel but they didn’t want anything to do with us, and so after two more steps and a sign ‘salida Tijuana centro’  boom there we were smack bang in Mexico!
The moment our feet left that concrete ramp it began, the haggle, the fight to legally steal all our money.
Still needing a restroom we saw a sign and headed in that direction, only to be thwarted by a taxi driver who offered us a tour and safe passage to Revolucion st, where the action is, the safe action, apparently.
He spoke English which was great because with our limited Spanish it would have be tough. I did however get to ask his name in Spanish, ‘que esta nombre ?’ Who said all that cleaning money didn’t pay off?
So armed with his name, Alejandro became our new best friend, he told us safe places, he told us what to do and what not to do, he showed us clean, safe dining and offered to meet us and take us back to the border when we were done.
He left us on the corner with a promise to return at 3pm, we had 3 hours to wander and look at stuff, eat and return to America safely. As he drove away, we wondered if he’d be back.

Did we make it back? Or is this transmission coming from a mexicali jail cell?

Part two shortly… electricity is in short supply 😉