The Border City

So, when the name Tijuana comes up in a conversation, what are the first things that pop into your mind?  The place you went to as a kid for a quick day-vacation with your family, you know, before 9-11 changed everything?  A college party town where shopping is cheap?  The place with a 5 hour wait in a line to get back into the States? A place filled with Mexicans trying to illegally cross the border?  A place that has more violence, drugs, and problems than is necessary?  A place to avoid at all times? 

When I first arrived in Tijuana, I had no idea what to expect.  I had been told that Tijuana was one of those really dangerous border cities that you should avoid if you can.  Nothing good comes out of Tijuana, I was told.  Well, I just want to clear that up.  I loved the short time I was in Tijuana because it surprised me. 

The line to US customs

Relatively speaking, Tijuana is one of the safer border towns due to the increase of border patrol and checks.  The population of Tijuana is roughly 1.3 million people, but that number is constantly in flux as the mobile population (those coming and going) numbers close to 300,000 people daily.  In addition to that, between 600 and 700 people are deported into Tijuana from the US every day!  The city is full of art and history museums, coffee shops, maquiladores, universities, churches.  And there’s a beach!  Although the wall going off 200 feet into the water kind of takes away from the scenic moment…    

As I sat sipping a latte with friends who are choosing to live and serve in Tijuana, I looked out across the waters to the shiny lights of San Diego and it hit me of how divisive we’ve become.  We’ve let borders become solid barriers between us, not just national lines debated and drawn up by the powers-at-be.  And in this case, there is literally a wall that separates us.  It felt in that moment like a zoo, keeping the different species apart in their own habitats.  The rub is: we’re not different species.

"Here dreams become nightmares"

A friend, Alejandra, took Rachel and me to the wall to see it.  There’s a park where people can go right up to a section of the wall (there are other walls behind it so they’re no worried about it I guess).  On this section of the wall, artists have come and painted murals, messages, and graffiti all along it.  Periodically someone will come and repaint over them, and so each of these messages holds a potency and life about them, as if they can’t wait to shout out before their voices are painted silent.  The message this time hit me hard—on each panel there was a picture and history of other walls in the world: the Berlin Wall, the Korean Wall dividing North and South, the Israeli West Bank Barrier (also known as the apartheid wall), and others.  And this is hung on the 700 mile long US-Mexico Border Wall—far longer than any of the others mentioned above! 

The Wall

Along this same wall there is a section that is not cement but metal barred so that you can see the other side.  In this spot, every Sunday morning there is a church service for those of both sides to come together and worship.  Family and friends can come face to face and praise their Lord side by side, the wall separating bodies but not faith.  How sad and beautiful!

Rachel's family came with us to walk
across the border

For a more in-depth look at the Border, check out this really cool photo project: 

http://apps.npr.org/borderland/#_/about

The next day we spent 5 hours standing in line to cross the border.  One moment I was in Mexico, the next I was in San Diego.  And let me tell you, it was strange that sudden adjustment. It was as if I had teleported there.  Paved streets, signs in English, American restaurants and cars and people everywhere.  Well, looks like my re-entry had just begun full steam ahead.

Stay tuned! 

The Incident Report

Now we come to “the story” part of our trip.  You know, the first story you tell people when you get home, the last story you tell your parents, the story you’ll eventually tell your children someday.  This is that story:

The stretch from Querétaro to Tijuana was the longest stretch by far.  The internet search told us the bus trip would take 30 hours.  The bus station (more akin to an airport than a bus stop) in Querétaro told us the direct bus trip would last 36 hours. In the end it lasted 46.

Busing through Central America has a sort of rhythm to it, not a consistent one like with a stop every 4 hours, people getting on and off at each stop, the driver calling “All aboard!”; rather, its rhythm is more organic with a give-and-take flow more akin to waves along a seashore.  Stops happen, every now and then; people debark and board at their whimsy; buses arrive at the station almost silently and leave almost as quiet.  In a word, you really have to be on your toes to travel by bus in Mexico.

Our advice was to NEVER SPLIT UP.  Smart advice given we were (are) two young American women traveling alone through a foreign country.  Advantage: we knew Spanish.  Disadvantage: we didn’t know Mexico and their culture very well and couldn’t read situations off the cuff.  So, we chose to follow this simple piece of advice.

At each stop, the driver would let us know if we could get off (to stretch our legs, grab some food, pee in a real bathroom, etc.) and how much time we had (15 min., half hour, etc.).  

Regardless of the time they told us, they were always late in leaving.  Not us though.  Being good gringas, we made sure we were back to the bus well before the departure time.  Things were going well.

25 hours into the trip (and like 7 dubbed action movies later) we pulled over for yet another stop.  A short one this time: 15 min.  It was around 6am so we decided to quick go pee and then I would find us some food and Rachel would quick charge our phone for a few minutes.  Mission accomplished, we walked back outside 13 minutes later… Only to see no bus.  Our bus was gone.  The very bus that carried all of our luggage, pillows, blankets, sweatshirts and a backpack with Rachel’s wallet in it.  Thank God we both had our purses with our passports. I had my wallet with money and Rachel had her phone.  Rachel was slightly panicking, I was pissed.  How could our drivers leave us?  They knew us, they knew our crazy story (those Americans), and Rachel is blonde for goodness’ sake! 

The workers we asked were all nonchalant about it, as in “Oh yeah, that bus left ages ago and there’s no way you can run into the road and go catch it.”  Which didn’t make sense at all.  We had just got there!  Thank God I had my ticket in my pocket.  The workers told us, “Tranquila, tranquila.  Hay otro bus.”  They told us to hop on another bus headed for Tijuana and we’d catch up with our bus along the way.  With no other option, we followed their directions and hopped on another bus.  Which smelled terrible.  And was freezing.  And then, a half hour into our miserable replacement ride, the bus blew a tire.  There was no way we were going to catch our bus now. 

Hours later, at the next stop, we caved in and bought a blanket (we had nothing to stay warm with).  The bus driver kept telling us not to worry, that we’d figure it out, that we’d catch the bus. 

It was the longest wait of my life. 

2 different views of the U.S./Mexico Border

The closer we got to the border, the more and more we ran into security checkpoints.  Mexican police had everyone get off the bus and they would randomly search a few bags from below.  We looked remarkably stupid, with no luggage, no nothing.  Drug smugglers I’m sure!  The bus driver was on our side though.  At each stop, I kept searching for my orange backpack, thinking that they may have confiscated an unclaimed bag—my bag—because I wasn’t there to say it was mine.  There was no way to tell though as each stop had like 15-20 stations…

My heart continued to pound in my ears.

13 dubbed movies, a few strange episodes, a long trek along the walled border, and 46 hours later, we finally arrived in Tijuana!

Only to hear from personnel that our bus hadn’t arrived yet.  What?!  How could that be possible?

It took us 2 hours to figure out the inner workings of the bus station and find out who was in charge.  Many people helped us along the way, including the bus drivers.  Turns out, our luggage was sent ahead by our first bus driver and arrived ahead of us in Tijuana (I still don’t know why he didn’t just personally deliver it like he was supposed to on his bus headed to Tijuana but hey).  So we had that back at least.  But all of our stuff above in the bus was still lost.  In those 2 hours we finally tracked down the bus and they said they found “some stuff” and would send it over on the next bus which would arrive in 4 hours.  We had been in this drama for 2 full days by now!  So I said thanks, but we’ll be back in the morning to get our stuff. 

We came in early the next morning and thank goodness the same people were working and they recognized us.  They had found one pillow and the backpack.  Nothing was missing from the backpack, thank the Lord!

Moral of the story is, when traveling with a partner, ALWAYS SPLIT UP!  One person stays with the bus and the other person can go pee and get food (and then you can trade off).  That way your buddy can keep the bus driver from abandoning you at a station in the middle of Mexico.

The end.

Stay tuned as I share about my one day in the crazy border city of Tijuana!

The City of Churches

The Aqueduct built by the Spanish

Ok, so remember when I said that Xela was one of the most beautiful cities I’d ever been to?  And then I said the same thing about San Cristóbal?  Well, I’m going to say it again, this time about the city Querétaro.  And I’d even hesitate to say it’s more beautiful than the other two (shhhh, don’t tell them!)!

Copper-domed cathedral and street market

Querétaro lies just north of Mexico City, only a short two-hour bus ride away.  It is a city made famous by its aqueduct built in Spanish colonial times, its many parks and relative safety, and its church history.  Querétaro is also a fairly safe and wealthy city, and attracts many tourists and Mexicans alike.  Querétaro is (from what I was told) the city from which the Catholic Church sent off the Franciscan friars to establish Missions throughout Northern Mexico and California.  As such, the city has been called “the city of churches”.  I kid you not, there’s a church or cathedral on every block!  And the parks!  There were so many scattered about the city, each with a different theme or memorial purpose.  And this time of year they were all decorated for Christmas—lights, garland and red and green everywhere.  Also last, but not least, it is home to the best taco place I have ever been to :)

Rachel and I with Cessi and Arturo and their kids
at the best taco restaurant ever

Rachel’s friends hosted us during our time in Querétaro, a wonderful family who is from Mexico but has also spent some time living in California.  We had many engaging conversations, including faith diversity, social action and justice, the Church in the United States vs. Mexico, and updates on family members.  We shared delicious meals of authentic Mexican food, from atole drinks to tamales to tacos to chicken smothered in mole sauce.  We wandered the city, visited the many parks, churches and the aqueduct.  We also did some laundry (about time!).  And ate a lot of crepes (I don’t know why, but they’re wildly popular in Mexico).  Honestly though, there is nothing more that I love to do than to sit in a park, sip some coffee and watch the buzz of activity around me.

Though not unique to this stop on our voyage, I would like to take the time to share with you one of the biggest lessons Rachel and I had to learn on our trip.  It’s a lesson I continue to struggle with: accepting hospitality.  At each stop, we were welcomed into the homes, the ministries, and the lives of friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers.  They fed us, gave us a place to stay, coordinated our time, provided transport, and all around hosted us without asking for anything in return.  And it was hard to flat-out accept such kindness.  I don’t know if it was something about our pride or our independence or whatever that made it really hard to swallow.  Rachel and I at first would try to offer some form of payment but after being turned down several times we just had to accept it.  We came to a monumental understanding: the next time we have the opportunity to host someone, friend or stranger, we should do so in the same manner as we experienced on this trip.  I guess it’s sort of like paying-it-forward.  

I wish we practiced more limitless hospitality like this in our culture, especially our Christian culture.  I feel that we’ve set too many boundaries and limitations on our hospitality—only when it works in my schedule, or only if I have the money for it, or only if I owe that person something, or only if I can get something in return.  It shouldn’t be like that.  And I know what you’re thinking: “What if we get played, Kelsey?  What if people use and abuse us for our generosity?”  Well, my only reply to that would be to recall Jesus’ story of feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and sheltering the homeless because in these actions you are feeding, clothing, and sheltering Jesus as well.  God’s love and mercy know no bounds.  Should ours?

Stay tuned as I share about the most boring, long, and scary part of our trip!

The City of Too Many People

Rachel and I had almost 2 full days to explore Mexico City and it was CLEARLY not enough time to even scratch the surface!

I’ve learned that Mexico City is one of the biggest cities on earth—Mexico City proper (meaning within the District limits set us ages ago) is home to roughly 20 million people.  If you include the rest of the city though (since the city has exponentially grown since its conception) the number dramatically jumps to 38 million people!!  To give you some perspective, we stayed in a house on the northern side of the city (outside of the District but still within the sprawling city’s reaches) and we took express transport to the city center and it took us 1 ½ hours!  Still a bit fuzzy on the immensity of it?  Ok, that’s about as many people that live in the entire state of California.  That’s insane!  The outer parts of the city, where most people live, are also the poorest sections of the city—only those who live within the original District limits are eligible for city benefits like water, electricity, schooling, etc.  And the city doesn’t want to claim the rest as “their own” or they’d have to provide them with benefits too and that would be extremely costly.  Driving through those outer areas was like being in the midst of a gray cinderblock sea, horizon to horizon an ocean of simple stone-block houses.  Very few of them were even painted.  It was kind of depressing…. 

(Left to Right)
Christmas decorations on old buildings, memorial to the plaza, indigenous dancers, cathedral

One of my dreams has always been to visit the Zócalo, the giant square in the center of the city.  I had always imagined it filled with hundreds of people, cars circling it, the huge flag waving in the middle, the church and palace lining either side.  And I wasn’t disappointed, but neither was it exactly as I had pictured it.  For one thing, there was no wind (so the flag wasn’t flying).  And it was filled with people, just not as many as I had expected and all of them were tourists.  And the buildings lining the sides were decorated for Christmas (except for the cathedral and palace of course)!  Lights, garland, gaudy candy canes and snowflakes—it was crazy.  But it got weirder: right next to the cathedral, with the flashy Christmas decorations in the background, was a group of Mexicans dressed up as their Aztec ancestors and singing and dancing in a traditional style.  There was incense, there were drums, there was chanting, there were a lot of feathers and ankle bells, and in the background of it all the church bells were a ringing.  Talk about culture clash!! 

Mural by Diego Rivera 

Mural by Diego Rivera

Palace fountain

And to make my day that much more amazing and fulfill one of my other dreams, Rachel and I stumbled into the Imperial Palace only to discover a national treasure!  We first had explored a bit of the cathedral, a prominent and beautiful display of Catholic wealth and reverence.  The cathedral itself is huge, complete with inner chamber and side chapels.  Biblical murals adorn the walls, statues of saints and biblical personas fill every corner and alcove, and everywhere you looked there was gold.  It was magnificent.  And I am so glad our churches don’t look like that.  I’d be way to distracted during the service.  That and I think our money can go to better use.  But I digress… Rachel and I then wandered our way over to the palace and happily discovered that admittance was free.  So we continued on in, turned to the left towards the staircase and found one of the most famous and important murals in Mexico painted by none other than Diego Rivera.  I simply was stunned!  It was so beautiful!  And there wasn’t just one of his murals but several that were painted on many walls in the palace.  And to think we had almost missed it!

The Pink Line for women and children

Rachel and I also had the amazing experience of navigating our way through Mexico City using public transportation.  Their subway system is enormous!  There are, I kid you not, 12 lines that zig-zag their way around town.  Each train stop has their own name and logo—a fun and easy way to remember which stop to get off at.  And their fast, easy, and cheap to use.  Their bus system was just as easy.  What was even cooler was that in the city they have taxis, express buses, and train cars that are only for women and children.  Their called the Pink Line.  The hope is that it will lower the rate of sexual harassment, assault, and rape cases.  I don’t know if it’s working but I know I felt safer riding in them!

The Metro System

Next stop: just north to the gorgeous city of Querétaro.  Stay tuned!