It was a nerve-racking idea to begin with. My parents warned me as much as I could remember to never attempt it when I was heading to the place I was visiting. But I chose not to listen, and I was glad that I was stubborn.

Well, you may ask where exactly I am talking about. Maybe the following sentence will be a better hint. So, I was in San Diego. Got it yet?

As if it wasn’t obvious enough, the border was the one between California and Baja California, Mexico. With more than 50 million crossings every year, it is the busiest land border in the Western Hemisphere (thanks, Wikipedia!). While it may seem like a typical division of the two countries, the contrast presented on both sides was drastic. And Tijuana, on the Mexican side of the border, is among the most violent in the world in terms of homicide rate. That information is enough to deter most from visiting, but I wasn’t very convinced.

I decided to go.

Where It First Began

My alarm woke me up at 6a.m. After getting ready, I quietly stepped out of my hostel dorm and waited at the lobby. The receptionist asked me why I was up so early. I replied, “Tijuana, that’s why”. She giggled before asking more questions about my plans in the neighboring city, and then giving me tips to make it through the day there. Not long later, an SUV showed up at the hostel’s doorstep, before a tan-skinned, bearded man came in and asked for my name.

That man was West, my tour guide of the day. In the vehicle was a family of six from the state of Georgia, who had the same idea of crossing to the other side because of curiosity. I was instantly welcomed on board as we made our way to the immigration post, just less than 20 minutes from downtown San Diego.

Very soon, we arrived at the inspection ground in San Ysidro. As it was just a little over 7a.m., the lanes were empty, so passing through it was a breeze. It was eerily silent when we stepped out of the car. West took us into the immigration office, where we lined up to get our passports checked, and I thought we were still on the U.S. side! The officers with their taupe uniforms and patches of the tricolored flag, greeted us in Spanish before pressing our passport pages with a giant green stamp. “¡Bienvenidos a México!”, one of the officers said to me.

First Impressions

The gray morning sky over the urban sprawl of Tijuana still remained vivid in my memory, even more so when it was seen from the rose-tinted window of the car. The infamous border we just crossed became more evident and bizarre when its rusty walls ran like a serpent across the hills towards the ocean.

Not surprisingly, the first stop of the trip was the Friendship Park (Parque de la Amistad), where the border walls plunged into the waves of the Pacific. It was here that the walls shed their rusty appearance for colorful murals of unity, peace, and love. There was also a multicolored tourist sign of the city, a towering lighthouse, and several street vendors selling tamales, which were our breakfast. The lady who sold them asked where I was coming from. “Canada,” I said, before she told West it would be a dream for her to live there and set up a tamale business. She was surprised I could handle so much salsa on my tamale!

West took us to a building south on foot, where we met a few children and young adults sitting and sleeping in bunk beds. A woman who presumably managed it said it was a shelter for those seeking to cross the border, and the people had to pay a fee equivalent to 40 cents in American dollars to stay there every night. My heart sank. The shelter was dark and cramped. Many of them, coming from other parts of Mexico and some even from different parts of Latin America, had been trying for weeks to cross it, only to end up back in the building after the attempts. It felt so heavy leaving the place.

Following the Coastal Road South

The drive along the Pacific Ocean looked similar to the one between Los Angeles and San Diego, which I took a couple of days prior. Less than an hour later, we arrived in Rosarito, the largest town just south of the city. While West was getting some arrangements done at a restaurant, he said we could wander around for a bit, adding that it was safe to do so. The streets were empty but pretty, with palm trees lining the sidewalks towards the ocean. I walked all the way to the beach, where I found a bar and ordered a margarita fresa to enjoy at its patio. Two Mexican kids came up and played some music with their guitarra before asking for tips, which I gave.

I headed back to the restaurant soon after. The family from Georgia was already seated and getting their meals served. West saved a seat for me and asked if I had any preference with food; I said no and let him choose it for me, and within seconds, a plate of chile relleno with rice and beans came behind my neck. It was massive!

We went back on the highway further south to the fishing town of Puerto Nuevo. Compared with the former, this place had a stronger resort feel. West brought us to a store to try some tequila in erotic shot glasses. Just when I wasn’t tipsy enough, we were then taken to a beautiful art gallery where the owner demonstrated the making of another alcoholic drink with fire. Yep, another glass of liquor to get me truly flushed.

Back to Tijuana

I was drowsy from not only the hour-long drive back to the city, but also from the drinks I poured into my body. “Do not sleep on my tour!” said West in sarcasm; everyone tried to stay awake, but it was so hard to!

Luckily, our energy was regained when the car pulled up next to a taco shop. Sitting next to the highway, the humble taqueria was lined with people. West helped with our orders as we waited in the car, but I stepped out with my camera to take in the action. He then spoke with el señor, who then invited me into the kitchen to see it all happen. The tacos were out of this world.

We were finally back in Tijuana, where we visited the commercial zone of the city. The iconic Arco Monumento towered above the street of fluttering papel picado, mariachi bands were seen entertaining diners outside of restaurants, and vendors selling everything from fruit snacks to ponchos lined the rest of the open space. The scene was bursting with color, scent, and sound; it was exactly how I imagined Mexico to be.

With that being said, the day trip came to a close. Crossing back into the United States, I had a sense of appreciation for everything I experienced on the other side of the border, as well as the privilege of crossing over and back with ease. So many people to the south yearn to make it through but never do.

At the same time, Tijuana, while statistically dangerous, was actually safe in its touristic zones. Many Americans hop over for a day to shop and eat; some spend a few days in the resorts south of the city, while others even have vacation homes in the area. Since it was my first time visiting Mexico, having a tour guide like West was the assurance I needed for my safety, getting around, and discovering the quirky and fun side of Baja California.

I know people who have crossed the border and back themselves without issues. But if you are just like me, it is best to join a tour. West operates Baja Border Tours from San Diego, which is not limited to Tijuana, but also several other towns and vineyards in the Mexican state.

¡Cuídate y hasta luego, México!