Angelika/Mike Schilli |
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Angelika When Michael set off for the Perl conference, sponsored by AOL as every year, to San Diego located about 1,000 kilometers south of San Francisco, I thought to myself: San Diego is nice, the ocean in July is nicely warm for swimming, and just like that, I packed my bags and went along.
San Diego embodies what every tourist imagines California to be: The sun almost always shines, and the surfboard is practically handed to you at birth. If you're looking for the casual Californian lifestyle, head to San Diego and rent a room in a beach hotel. That's exactly what we did.
While Michael was frolicking in conference halls, I was hopping around in the waves, watching sun-tanned, fit boys and girls with one or two tattoos, always in search of the best wave. Greetings from Baywatch. San Diego is known not just as a surfer's paradise, but also for its proximity to the Mexican border. Thus, a day trip to the Mexican border town of Tijuana is no problem at all. And for us, freshly minted Green Card holders, even less so.
Of course, even when visiting the U.S. on a visa, one can enter Mexico and then return to the USA. However, this route is often chosen by people whose visas (usually tourist visas) are about to expire, in the hope of securing another six-month stay in the USA. Naturally, the American immigration authorities are aware of this and therefore frequently scrutinize visa holders thoroughly. And after September 11th, border controls at both the Mexican and Canadian borders were tightened anyway.
But I'm getting ahead of myself: Getting from San Diego to Mexico is super easy. You go to the tram stop, where a friendly employee explains to the American wary of public transport how to insert four dollars for a round-trip ticket into the machine (thank you!). Then you board the tram, known as the "Trolley," to San Ysidro, the last town on the American side.
Finally, after about an hour, when the tram stops, you get off and walk through a concrete tunnel, which looks like an ordinary pedestrian overpass, to the Mexican side. We passed through a turnstile and stood in front of a large sign: "Mexico". Somewhere, two border officers were standing around, but no one asked us for any papers.
From the border, you can easily walk into the city. Signs show the way. But, of course, everyone wants to do business with the tourists and cross-border commuters. That's why, right after the border, we encountered a fleet of yellow taxis. The taxi drivers weren't sitting bored in their taxis; instead, they approached the tourists with wild gestures, trying to lure a customer into their taxi with a fixed price. From the brochure of the tourist office, we knew that it is customary to negotiate the price before getting into the taxi. But, as I said, we were walking anyway.
Interestingly, just a few days prior, there had been a not-so-friendly incident involving taxi drivers, as I read in the local San Diego newspaper: Some angry taxi drivers had blocked an American tour bus with their taxis and threw stones at the windshield, believing that the tour buses coming from the American side were ruining their business. However, the newspaper assured that such incidents are quite rare.
By the way, Tijuana is a typical border city. Those seeking the real Mexico might return disappointed. Tijuana is modern, quite large (1.8 million residents), and among the wealthier Mexican cities. Where the tourists gather, there are countless kitschy souvenir shops, as well as restaurants and pubs where young Americans let themselves get drunk. After all, in Mexico, 18-year-olds can already buy alcohol, while on the other side of the border, one must wait until their 21st birthday.
At every corner, shop owners and street vendors (speaking English, by the way) approached us. We had heard horror stories that they wouldn't leave you alone. However, we found that a friendly "No, thank you!" or a shake of the head was enough to get rid of the sellers. Payment is naturally in US dollars; tourists should definitely not pull out Mexican pesos. Michael and I strolled through the streets, enjoying the hustle and bustle and the bright colors. Laughing, we watched tourists getting photographed on a platform set up behind a donkey. Why the donkey was painted to look like a zebra, we couldn't figure out to this day.
Pharmaceutical companies can only sell medications in Mexico at adjusted prices due to the low purchasing power of the peso, which is why the same drug brand often costs much less there than in the USA. As a result, in Tijuana, there are noticeably clean-looking pharmacies offering inexpensive branded medications.
Our plans also included a visit to an upscale seafood restaurant that the travel guide had praised. Michael initially grumbled that the idea of eating fish in Mexico might not be so wise, but the fish was fresh and super delicious, and the bill was up to US standards, which meant it was quite high for Mexican standards. However, we dined among Mexicans and not in a tourist hotspot. Of course, I did wonder whether the locals paid different prices than we did.
After a few hours, we set off on our return journey to San Diego. We simply followed the blue signs marked U.S.A. Of course, we hoped for a quick process at the border, but when we arrived, we saw the huge queue of pedestrians. The drivers didn't have it any better: The traffic jam in front of the border posts was considerable.
Kindly, there was a small roofed area for pedestrians, resembling a mansard, to protect them from heatstroke during the long wait. As we patiently stood in line, we observed with amusement the innovative business ideas Mexicans came up with to earn a few more dollars before we disappeared back onto the American side. Street vendors walked through the lines of cars with souvenirs and treats. Buses were ready, and cleverly assured us that we would cross the border in no time if we just boarded the bus, while in the pedestrian queue, we would need at least three hours. But what we liked best were the so-called "Border Bikes." For a rental fee, willing tourists were given a bicycle that looked like a folding bike, and they crossed the border with it.
However, the cyclists couldn't just speed past the cars up to the border booths. They lined up between pedestrians and buses, and progress was slow. Initially, the cyclists might have been a bit faster, but at the xray machine, located inside a building, we encountered them again, and here, the cyclists had a disadvantage because of the added complexity to navigate through security with all their belongings and bicycles. It surprised us, by the way, that the American border officials tolerated the bicycle phenomenon.
For us pedestrians, the whole process unfolded as follows: Firstly, we waited outside in the queue. Slowly, we moved towards the building. Border officials only allowed a certain number of people into the building at a time. We were screened and asked if we had any weapons. Then, we proceeded through some corridors to the next queue. Eventually, we reached one of the immigration authority counters. We presented our Green Card (and only the card, by the way). The officer asked us what we had bought in Mexico and couldn't believe it when we said, "Nothing!" And just like that, after about an hour and a half of waiting, we found ourselves back in San Ysidro, where we boarded the tram.
Sounds simple, doesn't it? It is, too, if you're an American or a tourist crossing the border. But for Mexicans, especially those attempting to cross illegally, it's a different story altogether. In order to stem the flow of illegal Mexican immigrants, the authorities launched the so-called "Operation Gatekeeper" in 1994: The border around San Diego was sealed off tightly, and border agents were equipped with all sorts of technical gadgets, such as infrared cameras, to quickly locate and promptly send back individuals attempting to cross the border illegally from Mexico.
Due to increased security at the San Diego border, many now try their luck further inland, which typically involves long hikes through the desert. This often leads to fatalities, as people succumb to exhaustion, dehydration, or drown during river crossings. In the documentary film "Death on a Friendly Border," which I recently watched in one of my classes and which focuses on the described border section, it was stated that an average of one person loses their life there every day.
Interestingly, there is a group of volunteers on the American side who, at their own expense and in their spare time, replenish so-called water stations with gallons of drinking water every weekend to prevent people illegally crossing the border from dying of thirst in the desert. These water stations are marked with blue flags. There is a "Gentlemen's Agreement" that border officials do not disturb the water stations and do not apprehend anyone in their vicinity. I wanted to mention this just to show that not all Americans adopt a tough cowboy attitude. Many Mexicans, including Mexican President Fox, hoped for border relaxations just over a year ago. There was talk of increasing the number of work visas for Mexico and of a possible amnesty for Mexicans living illegally in the USA, meaning the opportunity to gain legal status - all put on hold after the terrorist attacks.
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