A Run for the Border

Our final major outing was a trip to Tijuana, Mexico. When I told my family and friends that we planned to go there, I was inevitably told the same thing... "Be careful, it's dangerous down there." Some people were a little surprised that I was taking the kids. These folks failed to understand the method to my madness though. I was on a mission... part fun, but mainly education. I wanted to show my children what the rest of the world is like. I wanted to take them on a field trip, so they could experience first-hand how good things are for them. I wanted them to watch little girls sell chicklets on the street corners, instead of going to to school, so they can eat. I wanted them to view the run-down apartments that people live in, and I wanted them to realize that people beg just to scrape by.

This education started just before we got to Mexico. Having been to Mexico before, I knew that I didn't want to drive down there. That's just not fun. I much prefer walking. We parked the car in southern San Diego, by the navy base, and took the train to the border. While walking over the bridge, the scents of Mexico came wafting toward us.

"Daddy, that stinks. I don't want to go to Mexico, my older daughter stated, as she held on to my arm."

"Well kid, I don't know what to tell you, except to say that a LOT of the rest of the world smell like this, especially the cities. Do you see those buildings?"

"Yeah, they're ugly."

"Yep, people live in those buildings. And these are some of the nicer places that people here live in."

"I don't like Mexico," she decided, holding my arm even tighter. For the entire rest of the trip, my older daughter clutched my hand or arm for dear life. You see, the people who had kindly reminded me how dangerous Tijuana is, also told her, filling her with fear and uncertainty. She only released her death grip on me to eat, or to jump over to my wife, where my daughter would cling on her in a similar manner. My younger daughter was far more fearless and comfortable. She still stayed close, but didn't feel the need to constantly cling to the adults.

After briefly pointing out the poverty, I started talking about other stuff. After all, I didn't want to harp on this and depress the kids. I also wanted them to see and experience a different culture, and celebrate it in its own right. I was able to quickly distract them by stopping at the street vendor stands and letting the kids do some shopping. We didn't buy anything though, because I knew the prices would be a little better in the main district and because I didn't want to be hauling bags around all day.

We got to the main shopping district, Revolution Avenue, in just a few minutes. The kids quickly adjusted, but not completely.

"Who's hungry," I asked?

"Not me," they both responded.

"I don't want to eat down here. It's gross," my older daughter continued, as the younger one nodded in agreement. I was a little disappointed by this. I had hoped that the kids would want to experience authentic Mexican cooking. Yeah, yeah, I know it's not really authentic until you're a little further south. And no, I didn't plan for them to eat at some corner vendor and get sick. Don't forget, I have been to Tijuana before. It had been over a decade, but I knew a couple of places where it would be okay to eat. The kids though, didn't seem enthusiastic about eating in Mexico. I suspect that someone told them not to drink the water. I was a little disappointed by their apprehension, but was hungry and determined. We walked down Revolution for a while and I saw the answer.

"Hey girls, we could stop here," I said, pointing to a Hard Rock Cafe. They had been to a Hard Rock before, when we went to Canada, so this was an acceptable option to them. As I said, I was in Mexico, so I had to have a Mexican dish... even though I was in an American-style chain restaurant. I had the fajitas, and they were marginal. The shrimp tasted good, but was rubbery... almost like calamari. The beef was Mexican beef, and I tasted the difference. The kids barely touched their food, but we were no longer hungry, and had the energy to continue our shopping expedition.

To make a long story a little shorter, we shopped and shopped and shopped, hitting countless stores all along both sides of the main drag. My younger daughter astutely noticed that the stores all had basically the same small selection... lots of jewelery -- none exactly the same, but all very similar... lots of clothing, lots of cheap ceramic stuff... lots of pipes ("They must smoke a lot down here," my younger daughter noted)... lots of leather.

In the end, the kids each bought a ring, and Mrs. Evan and I each bought one of those hooded shirts that look kind of like burlap bags. I can't remember the correct term for them.

After completing our shopping, we headed back north, taking a moment to give our few remaining coins to some of the begging children, explaining to our kids that we had to do this on the down-low so that every beggar in Tijuana didn't end up accosting us for quarters.

Once we were back on American soil, I asked the kids if they had fun. I figured that my younger daughter would say "yes" and the older one would say "no." I was happy to hear that they both enjoyed their time in Mexico.

---Epilogue---

We went to Tijuana on April 1. My older daughter recommended that we play an April Fool's joke on my mother-in-law. Being somewhat of a practical joker, and a smart-ass by nature, I was all for the idea. We decided to say that we were stuck at the border, and they wouldn't let us back across. The kids wanted to do it right away, but I figured it would be best to hold off for a bit. After all, it would have really sucked if we played the practical joke only to have it happen for real. (Can you say Little Boy Who Cried 'Wolf'?) After getting back into the states, and safely on our way back home, we made the call. While my older daughter was telling Grandma Barb that we were stuck, I was in the background yelling at the non-existant Border Guard.

"Get me your supervisor now! Look, I've given you our I.D.'s, the kids' birth certificates, what more do you want? I checked your web site before coming down here, and it said that we don't need passports until January 1, 2008. I'm tired, and my kids are tired. Get your supervisor, NOW!"

Grandma Barb reacted exactly as we expected. "Oh, let me get Grandpa Dan. Daaaaaannnnnn! Dan was already on the other line, and the older kid shouted 'April Foooools!' I think we got them both, but I'll never know for sure.