TIJUANA, MX

Rental cars cannot be taken into Mexico, so we drove from San Diego to the border, parked in a large lot, and hopped on a shuttle bus that advertised that it would take you to the heart of Tijuana in five minutes or so. They neglected to mention that with new border procedures in effect, the return trip would take over two and a half hours. We sat motionless on the return bus and waited. And waited. Finally across, we were dropped to clear customs a mile's walk from the car. That part was awful. Tijuana, however, was somethng of a surprise: I remembered only embossed leather stores, tequila bars, and endless pitches by street hustlers for (mostly) prostitutes, sex shows, and such. Rather, we found a bustling town, full of locals shopping in the open markets. F had fun trying to identify unusual vegetables. Only signs of the old Tijuana were a warning from a well-dressed man to her to put her camera strap over her head and hide the Nikon under her jacket to avoid thieves, and, of course, the instantly perceived drop in all symbols of affluence characteristic of San Diego. We learned, however, that due to tourism, and use of cheap labor by multi-nationals for manufacturing, Tijuana is one of the wealthier towns in Mexico. We counted over twenty pharmacies in the middle of town, profiting from the differing laws on prescription drugs, anabolic steroids, and such. And we learned that all ways back across the border--bus, car, pedestrian, bikes--were equally delayed, though private cars seemed to do best.

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