Wow. I thought this whole blogging-as-I-go thing would be easier. Its really not easy at all.
Its not the wifi access that’s the problem (it seems like I can’t get AWAY from wifi connectivity in this city), nor is it a lack of things to write about (very much the opposite). It is, I have realized, the sudden lack of downtime.
Believe me folks, this is a wonderful problem to have. Every night when my head hits the pillow, I fall asleep almost immediately. This is a welcomed change from the usual 1-3 hours it used to take to fall asleep. I am just doing SO MUCH.
Between working, taking trips around the city, taking my recent trip to Mexico (I’ll tell you more later in the post), and visiting new local resteraunts for reviewing, I am exhausted by the end of the day.
I am up on my feet (yes! I love walking and being able to do it makes me very happy) almost the WHOLE DAY, maneuvering my way around the city.
I have figured out the bus/rail system to a very usable point so far, and am putting my transit pass to use. That thing is worth it. If you’re under 18 you can get it for only $32. If you’re over 18 I believe it is $64. Either way, it is like paying for your own private tour bus. The busses are fantastic, and the trolleys are smooth. Fantastic.
On my first day here (after I posted the previous report) I met a very nice German guy named Armin. We hit it off and decided to go check out Old Town together (the attraction was a major disappointment, but the friendship wasn’t). We met up again today and checked out Tijuana (the stories about that are coming later, just hold on for a few more paragraphs), and later on today we’re going to an independent film at the Hillcrest Cinema.
It is very nice to have someone to do this stuff with, and he says he appreciates the company as well.
OK, now for the Tijuana story:
We had decided the previous day that we would meet up at noon at the Hostelling International Hostel and take the “tour” that was advertised on the bulletin board in the elevator of the Hostel. We arrived on schedule and…no one there. We waited for another 15 minutes, still no one there.
Finally we decided to do our own tour, and just head down there. We tromped over to the trolley station (a very modern looking building with little machines selling one way, round-trip, and day-long tickets) and waited.
The San Ysidro bound trolley came after only five minutes of waiting, and we hopped on.
San Ysidro is town on the US side of the border. It acts as a buffer zone between Mexico and the US, quite similar to how Tijuana works for Mexico. Its inhabitance are almost all Mexican, and the predominant language in the town is Mexican. It is not necessarily somewhere I would hang out in unless out of necessity. This was…I suppose…a necessity.
As we rode the trolley through the outskirts of San Diego, we both began to make comments about the landscape. The general expression of amazement on both of our faces was due to the drastic landscape change between the “inskirts” and the “outskirts” of the big city. There were trailor parks crammed to their fences with semi-perminant mobile homes. Dust and dried-out brush made up almost the entire landscape. What were we getting into – we wondered?
After forty-five minutes or so, we arrived at the border. Policemen and US military personal were scattered at checkpoints like cockroaches. Entering the border from LA does not require any checking of documentation, so we simply walked over the bridge that connects the two countries.
“You like some Sunglasses? Cuban Cigars? Steroids? Viagra?” we were instantly hit with a barad of sales pitches. I have spent time in South East Asia, and was used to this sort of thing. I wasn’t used to the persistance!
In the Philippines, when you walk down a busy street, you do sometimes get a few sales pitches, but after you reject one or two, they begin to get the idea and stop. This wasn’t how it was in Tijuana.
Armin and I knew the tourist-oriented nature of the city from things people had told us. We are both naturally wary of touristy places, and prefer to get onto the back-roads as soon as possible. This proved very difficult, as we hadn’t a clue where we were going.
The cab drivers must have noticed our look of half-hidden confusion, as they began pitching rides to Tijuana to us. We declined at first, but eventually, after being told we were going the “wrong way” by probably twenty of them, we caved.
“Five dollars for both of you” he offered.
“Well, we are splitting it anyways, why not take a taxi?” I said with a defeated look. I knew it was a pretty sad justification, but we really were confused.
After a mixed-up ride of turns and bends, we were finally (after about ten minutes in the car) taken to Tijuana. More specifically, we were taken to a resteraunt named “La Placita” in Tijuana. The driver told us we should eat there, and then tell the weighter to call “Huan”. They would know him, they said.
We may have been conquered once, but there was no way we were going to let it happen again. We were resolute in our efforts to keep away from the tourist traps. We began trying different sidestreets – the shadier-looking the better.
The city of Tijuana is actually quite clean. As far as I can tell, the Mexican government is pouring all of its funds on Tijuana, trying to boost the tourism market. There are street-lights, wide sidewalks, and pampered trees growing in need little holes on the side of the road. We avoided these roads.
Finally, after a good hour of walking, talking, jokingly talking about the idea of going to a strip club (I am happily engaged, and he had no interest…it was pure melarchy), and staring into shop windows, we found a resteraunt we deemed greasy enough to be our dining experience.
It was a taco stand with dried pig-skins in display cases. We were shown a menu, it was ALL in Spanish…SCORE! Our criterea for the resteraunt was essentially:
- A resteraunt no self-obsessive “tourist” would ever be found dead at.
- A restaurant that catered to locals (with locals visibly eating there).
- A resteraunt that served at least one item we recognized as edible.
This one met all the criteria, and more. We were sold. We slapped down our $3.50 each for two tacos (mine pork, his beef), an assorted plate of various entrees (onion, boiled cactus, and pork skins), and some “water” which wasn’t really water at all, but a rice-drink substance. They were all fantastic.
A good half-hour later, we were stuffed and satisfied. The owner had been very kind and given us extra foods to try. We tried to give him more money for the items, but he refused. It even proved difficult to give him a tip!
Satisfied, we walked back through the town, and through the border once again.
Short but sweet. A good escape from the “proper” cleanliness and attitude of America. All around a good experience.
So…without much time left, I’m off to eat at Chipotle in Hillcrest and watch a film at the Hillcrest Cinema. I’ll post more soon!
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