A hundred years ago, there was a sheep farm on the U.S. – Mexico border south of San Diego. The owner of this sheep farm, seeking to diversify, thought that a cantina for drinking and gambling might lure the gringos from over the border. He named the cantina after his aunt Jane. The rest, as they say is history. Herewith, a report on Tijuana.

This past weekend, possessed by some unknown demon inside me, I went to Tijuana. I was on a business trip to San Diego, my wife in tow. We had arrived early Saturday afternoon with only a vague plan of how to spend the weekend before attending a conference that was to begin Sunday evening. Our hotel’s concierge desk had racks of brochures for wonderful spas, beaches, wineries, and parks. But, like moths to a flame we were inexplicably drawn to the ratty, wrinkled map of Tijuana. “How do we get there?” we inquired of the concierge. She wrinkled her nose with distaste. “Why would you want to go?” was her reply. She reluctantly produced directions. My wife, having researched all possibilities, produced the address of a shop selling quality Mexican crafts, and a highly recommended restaurant.

Getting to Tijuana is easy. Get on I-5, drive south fifteen miles, and get off at the last exit. You can also readily drive into Mexico but there are two caveats: first, it requires supplemental insurance; second, the border crossing for autos is routinely two or three hours long on weekends. The insurance isn’t much of a problem: every Denny’s seems to sell it (“Taco Special / Mexican Auto Insurance”). The wait to get back seemed more problematic. And so we took the last exist where, as advertised, there were half a dozen large parking lots charging $7 a day. The Mexican border was literally on the other side of the parking lot’s wall.

Our map showed that the border crossing was just a block or two from the center of Tijuana, and so we elected to walk across the border rather than taking the $2.50 bus. The border crossing was stunningly uneventful. You walk through a turnstile and through a drab courtyard, then out through another turnstile. You’re in Mexico. A genuine foreign country.

The first thing you notice across the border is the drug stores. Posted prominently are the signs for Viagra, sold by the pill without prescription. I’m not sure what else is sold that can keep 50 pharmacies in business, but I did not venture in to find out. The principal item sold at the stores that are not pharmacies is Cuban cigars. In the course of our visit in Mexico, we would encounter a minimum of a hundred stores peddling “genuine” Cuban cigars.

The second thing you notice across the border is that you are not in Tijuana. You are in some never-never land that is not on the map, because the map is not to scale. Tijuana is somewhere “over there,” vaguely to the west. Getting there is guess work. There are many taxis that will take you to Tijuana, but these are not the cute vehicles conjured up by the old Herb Alpert tune. These are grim vehicles that were once painted yellow. We elected to walk and, by sheer luck, found the pedestrian bridge across the river that took us to Tijuana proper.

(Part 2 of 3)

How do I put this charitably? Tijuana is dirty. Tijuana is ugly. Tijuana is filled with urchins that offer you packages of paper napkins while their friends pat you down, looking for your wallet. We marched onward, seeking out the restaurant and quality crafts shop that surely lay just beyond. We eventually figured out the street system (the streets, one sensibly marked as “Calle 3” had given way to “Avenida del Benito Juarez”). The center of Tijuana is about two miles from the border station (less than two inches on the helpful map) and by the time we arrived at the craft shop we found that it, naturally, was closed. It was only shop on the street that was closed. Possibly the only shop in all of Tijuana that was closed. We cursed our fate and started looking for the restaurant. By now, it was dusk, and a transformation had come over the city. The dirty, cheaply constructed buildings had faded in the twilight and were now aglow in garish neon. Every building’s second floor held a restaurant with outdoor bar, and the music coming from those balconies could only be described as excruciatingly loud. We walked a few blocks in the direction of our restaurant, looking up at each neon-encrusted balcony, listening to the blare, reading the “All the beer you can drink - $7” signs. We looked at each other – and started back toward the border.

Getting back to the border is easy… just follow the signs. Unfortunately, as we found, these signs are put up by helpful merchants whose goal is to re-route you in front of their stores. And so “To the USA” signs pointed down many side streets. After a few such detours, we followed our instincts and found the (completely unmarked) border crossing. In one way, it was made easier because we found that all we had to do was walk against the flow of teenager and twenty-somethings flooding into those same drinking spots from which we were fleeing. One man’s horror is another’s idea of a swell Saturday night.

Crossing the border proved to be the final straw in our visit. If getting into Mexico is a matter of going through two turnstiles, getting back is a 45-minute exercise in learning to be patient. Two lines stretched back more than a block; a border guard steered us into the mercifully swifter of the two lines. As we snaked through a tunnel where we were presumably subject to all manner of electronic scrutiny, we had the wonderful opportunity to listen to the two day-trippers behind us try without success to remember whether it was “Yes” on Prop 35 and “No” on 36, or vice versa. These twenty-ish “dudes” finally decided between them that voting was “too much of a bummer” and they’d probably head for the beach on Tuesday, or back to Mexico for more all-you-can-drink beer.

(Part 3 of 3)

Finally, we reached the front of the line. A very laid-back customs inspector studied my driver’s license. “Hey, Neal,” he said, handing back my license. “You have a good time in Mexico?” “Not especially,” I replied in all honesty. He cocked his head. “You bring back any of them Cuban cee-gars?” “I don’t smoke,” I said. “Well, Neal, you have a good evening. Take care.”

Walking though the final turnstile, I concluded that it is a good thing to be on a first-name basis with your immigration officer. It sets a tone of informality that is much needed in citizen’s relationships with their government. As to Tijuana, the less said the better. I am not much of a beer drinker; the six-pack I bought at the beginning of the summer still has two un-opened bottles. I doubt that I would get my money’s worth paying $7 for all the beer I cared to drink.

Upon returning to San Diego, we took a chance and walked into a very highly rated restaurant in Old Town, Café Pacifica. The gods smiled; a table was available. We had an excellent meal and a wonderful bottle of wine. By the end of the meal we were able to laugh about our four hours in Mexico, seeing some humor in that grim place. I can safely say, though, that I will never return. Not even for the Viagra.

Your report is very entertaining, Neal. I'm sorry your first trip to Mexico was to Tijuana - I've never been there but heard similar stories. There are other, nicer places in Mexico to visit, however, so never say never!

Yikes, Neal. You brought back memories of my single foray into Tijuana in 1987. Truly, truly scary and unpleasant. You'll be relieved to know that finding your way around isn't any easier if you are driving.

I think my wait to cross the border back into San Diego was about 90 minutes (we drove). You pull up, stop your car, sit, then re-start when the line moves. During that time, fist fights were breaking out among the young beer drinkers who were gearing up to flood San Diego's roads. A new lane opened up, and there was a, um, difference of opinion as to who ought to enter the new lane first.

I also remember my friendly border crossing agent. He asked me where I was born and I was so nervous that I got it wrong and then quickly corrected myself. That was probable cause in his book, so he asked me a whole bunch of questions before concluding I was wasn't a crook, just dumb.

This is a bit off the subject, but I worked at the San Diego courthouse for one year, and I learned a really important thing. Young Americans too often get caught transporting drugs into this country, sadly unaware of the horrid penalties for this offense. Usually they are offered lots of money to do it and assured they won't get caught. Somehow, they do. Not pretty.

Anyway, I'm glad you made it back.

I also took a day trip to Tijuana while San Diego was home base for a few days. There's definitely a creepy, semi-dangerous feel to the place, but I made it out unscathed.

I enjoyed the beautiful cultural museum there, and bought the requisite HUGE bottle of vanilla- a great souvenir; good quality, low cost, and many memorable baked goods from that one bottle!

We ate at, I want to say Tia Tillie's (anyone?), and were horrified at the chicken one member of our party ordered. I don't believe those chicks even made it to adolescence, let alone adulthood, before they were cooked up. Absolutely the smallest chicken legs you'll ever see!

Neal, you re-captured our experiences in Tijuana exactly. Curiosity led us there and a fear for our throats led us back in short order. We had traveled widely in Mexico before (and have returned several times since) our foray, but nowhere in those thousands of miles in beautiful Mexico did we experience the feeling of sadness and disgust that we had in Tijuana. We often wonder where all those people go at nightfall, or do they simply crawl into cardboard boxes waiting for sunrise. Being almost bilingual, I knew what those around us were saying. We were being sized up for a heist. It was no fun.

Neal, how could an intelligent man like yourself, who has been to so many wonderful places, even CONSIDER traveling to such a God-awful place like that?!? And don't tell me you just had to find out for yourself, like visiting Hawaii or other places! Certainly the reputation of that cesspool has been around for decades! Oh Neal - why, Why WHY?!?!!!

I don't know but it was worth it if only to be able to write this entertaining and informative (I didn't know the sheep farm story) report.

Neal,
This was, as usual, an entertaining and informative post. Thank you for writing it. As someone who's never been south of Big SUr on the west coast, this was new and informative to me. I admit it hasn't increased my desire to visit San Diego (since one of the attractions was its proximity to Mexico, which seems questionable now).

Neal, you have now experienced a Border Town! NO, as you found out, these places are NOT clean, nice or sell quality products. YES, they are dirty and are the domain of underage college kids who come to party. Sad, but true.

My in-laws have lived less than 3 miles from the Frontera for over 30 years. We now have a "Mexico run" timed down to the minute. Indeed, premium liquor is MUCH cheaper over there than in the US so it is a well-spent 15 minutes, too.

Actually, the pharmacies do a good business in Demmerol, Premarin and asthma inhalers, all of which can be purchased without a prescription at about half of the going rate in the US.

A word to the wise: don't EVER get cocky with an immigration officer, even if they seem friendly. Case in point: the vehicle re-entry to the US at our particular Border Town is uphill for about 100 yards. On our last trip, the line was really long and it was pretty hot that day. We took my husband's SUV which has a manual transmission, and since we were merely creeping along, uphill, for over an hour, the clutch was smoking hot by the time we reached the Customs stand. My husband was a little short with the Border Patrol officer (who kept prodding him about the hot clutch) and so the officer proceeded to direct us to the Inspection Stall. Here, they took EVERYTHING out of the SUV, including the seats, jack, tool box, and the entire contents of the glove box! The worst part of this was that they left US to put the vehicle back together when they had finished, which took almost an hour because we had trouble getting the seats back in!

Lori, Be careful about that vanilla. Many years ago I lived in San Diego and would occassionally shop in Tijuana for things like Kahula, vanilla, pottery etc. At one point there was a story in the local San Diego paper about the vanilla, not always pure vanilla and it actually contained some substance that was slightly toxic in large quantities. It was not recommended that people buy it. Sorry I don't remember the details, we are talking 20 yrs ago, so maybe it's no longer an issue, but I do remember throwing my supply away as a result of the article. Although many parts of Mexico are quite beautiful, rich in culture and history and well worth exploring, Tijuana is certainly not one of them. It is a very dangerous place for tourists, full of crime and corruption.

Ess, Cindy, Lori, Al, Wayne, April, Charlesm Christie, and Barb, thanks very much for both the comments and the additional inputs. I'm pleased to know I wasn't alone in my observations.

Several years ago, I used to have lunch frequently at a Chinese restaurant near my office. The food was good and cheap, and all seemed well until one day a hand-lettered sign appeared in the window. It read: "there are no rat droppings in our hot and sour soup." It was the last time I ever ate there. In Tijuana, I kept seeing signs with messages (in English) like, "A well-behaved tourist is a welcome tourist," and "The City of Tijuana does not tolerate public drunkedness." There are all kinds of rat droppings.

Wayne, we can't all go to Katmandu every weekend. I went to Tijuana for the novelty of being able to say I had spent a few hours in a foreign country. I had hoped to find some interesting crafts and have a nice meal. Unfortunately, Tijuana provided neither.

Al, I, too, have a very good grounding in Spanish. I chose not to translate for my wife's benefit what the little urchins were saying. I just said, "walk faster."

Hi Neal:
I went to Tijuana in 1989. We took the trolley from San Diego at about 9AM. We had been advised to get there early and be out by noon. Excellent suggestions except we left after 1 hour!
The first tip-off was the cop telling us which taxi was safe...you may not be found if you take the wrong one...
The young kids begging. Their older brothers trying to scope out where your wallet is. Their mother with an infant trying to sell silver chains..The first shop tried to sell me a 14K ring with emeralds very cheap
only $100.00!!!...except the inside of the ring said 14KEP (14K gold electoplate and the "emeralds" looked like green glass. We hoofed it out of there real quick.
Navy personnel stationed in San Diego are not premitted to cross the border because they become easy targets for robbery and a few were murdered just before I decided to try Tijuana. Never again!

Neal, I don't mean to sound insulting, but saying you had gone to Tijuana looking for "some interesting crafts and a nice meal" and then being dissapointed, is like going to Wyoming in February looking for "sun and watersports" and then being suprised that they didn't exist. Come on, have you lived in a shell? I thought most North Americans would know the reputation of Tijuana.

What came first the chicken or the egg? In this case, what came first Tijuana or the tourist? Tijuana is, I think, what it is largely beause it is so accessible to the US. It is (or was) a large draw for the college crowd who wanted cheap food, cold beer, and fast women. It also appealed to those who wanted to go to Mexico (a foreign country!!!!!!) without effort. (It's so dang easy to get there. As we all know, Tijuana can be done in a day. No need to board a plane, or drive for hours. It's RIGHT there.) There is a bit of ethnocentrism (IMO) that seems to run through the above postings that concern me. I humbly submit that Tijuana as we know it is of our making. It is what it is because of the TOURISTS. People like having their pisture taken with a burro that's been painted like a zebra (?!?). I will also add that I think that as we travellers have matured, and travel has become easier and cheaper, we are now able to go places we only dreamed of before. Now, we look down upon Tijuana, a town that we made.

Well said, Captain. My thoughts exactly, but too chicken to write them down.

Hi Neal. My husband is happy to hear that there are others who feel the same way as he about Tijauna. It's true that you certainly captured the whole experience well...the difference is that some of us really enjoy the adventure and "thrill" of living that close to the edge. There is nothing I enjoy better than seeing "the other side" - if nothing else it gives me great appreciation for what I have. Thanks for sharing your great story!

Hey Neal,
The next time you have the desire to pop into a foreign country for quick visit - try Canada!

As a native of Los Angeles, I've been to baja California many times. I was once one of those drunk college students stumbling across the border. I would never go back to Tijuana. If you really are looking for a good meal and some mexican crafts, you need to go a little farther south. Rosarito Beach is about 30 minutes south of Tijuana. It is a lot bigger now than it was 15 years ago when I first went there, but a good place to stroll the streets. Ten minutes south of Rosarito is Puerto Nuevo, a tiny village that has many restaurants selling lobster dinners. Another good choice for a day trip.