There was a bus tour that said we could go south of San Diego and cross the border into Mexico.
For one reason - to get an hour's glimpse of Tijuana.
I thought, why not? Just this once.
Even back then, in 1975, Mexico held a reputation of being semi-lawless, and the city of Tijuana was no safe place to be.
But on a bus tour, how could you go wrong?
So I went.
And I was perfectly safe.
And I loved it.
The uniforms at the border, and the stern faces of the golden-skinned, black-haired border patrol were like watching a movie.
On the wide open main street, the bus parked, and the driver and guide told us to keep our money safe, our eyes open, and be back in exactly one hour or be stranded in Mexico.
I checked out little shops beneath the street level, some that ran in tunnels under the stores above, dark and loud with bartering Spanish voices.
In the streets, dust from sand swirled in tiny breezes. Citizens crossed wherever they wanted to, dodging old vehicles and donkey carts.
Men and women in colorful clothes walked alongside their carts piled high with their wares, as they shouted out what they were selling.
Small donkeys, dressed in wide-brimmed straw hats, ears sticking out through holes punched there, and colorful shawls draped across their backs, pulled the carts through the streets, very slowly.
The hour was too quick. I had to run to catch the bus, run across the dusty, wide street, dodging vehicles and people and sweet donkeys.
Or else I'd still be stranded in Mexico.
Today, Tijuana is a modern city that attracts a lot of border crossings for Mexicans and Americans, because it's barely fifteen miles south of San Diego.
Tourists can spend a few hours there to shop, eat, or watch a horse race, then head back to San Diego.
Tijuana started out as a village at the turn of the twentieth century, and has grown to over a million people, today, due to the above.
For one reason - to get an hour's glimpse of Tijuana.
I thought, why not? Just this once.
Even back then, in 1975, Mexico held a reputation of being semi-lawless, and the city of Tijuana was no safe place to be.
But on a bus tour, how could you go wrong?
So I went.
And I was perfectly safe.
And I loved it.
The uniforms at the border, and the stern faces of the golden-skinned, black-haired border patrol were like watching a movie.
On the wide open main street, the bus parked, and the driver and guide told us to keep our money safe, our eyes open, and be back in exactly one hour or be stranded in Mexico.
I checked out little shops beneath the street level, some that ran in tunnels under the stores above, dark and loud with bartering Spanish voices.
In the streets, dust from sand swirled in tiny breezes. Citizens crossed wherever they wanted to, dodging old vehicles and donkey carts.
Men and women in colorful clothes walked alongside their carts piled high with their wares, as they shouted out what they were selling.
Small donkeys, dressed in wide-brimmed straw hats, ears sticking out through holes punched there, and colorful shawls draped across their backs, pulled the carts through the streets, very slowly.
The hour was too quick. I had to run to catch the bus, run across the dusty, wide street, dodging vehicles and people and sweet donkeys.
Or else I'd still be stranded in Mexico.
Today, Tijuana is a modern city that attracts a lot of border crossings for Mexicans and Americans, because it's barely fifteen miles south of San Diego.
Tourists can spend a few hours there to shop, eat, or watch a horse race, then head back to San Diego.
Tijuana started out as a village at the turn of the twentieth century, and has grown to over a million people, today, due to the above.
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