Posted by KRICO on October 19, 2000 at 13:30:47:
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It was great gettin' down to TJ last week, on a beautiful October day. Nothin' but blue skies and a high yellow sun greeted me as the San Diego Blue Line trolley eased to a halt at the end of the line in San Ysidero, California USA. I was sittin' on the right side of the train, lookin' out the window as we hit all the old familiar stops (the last 15 minutes of the ride), Palomar Street, Palm Avenue, Iris Avenue, and cruising into Beyer Boulevard, the last stop before San Ysidero, I realized I could see the Zona Norte from there. The two tall familiar hotel buildings, hot pink and bright yellow were clearly visiable from the Beyer Boulevard trolley stop...Amazing! How close the Zona really is from the USA border. I kept my eyes on the two colorful buildings, staring wistfully, as the bright red trolley slowly pulled to a halt in San Ysidero, wondering how many stops back I would've seen them had I been paying attention. They conjure up such potent memories. The doors of the trolley sprang open and I bounded out to the left and joined the meandering throng of people heading over to Mexico. Fort Nixon ( the maximum security border crossing built during the ugly reign of King Nixon in order to protect the San Clemente "Western Whitehouse" from marauding descendents of Santa Ana) looked impressive, indeed, in it's beige, textured concrete magnificence. The snack stand at the end of the line was busy with fellow travelers milling about and the newsracks were bulging with the newspapers of the frontera, La Opinion, El Sol de Tijuana, San Diego Tribune, the Los Angeles Times,(my favorite newspaper, Frontera, was conspicuous in its abscence in the racks) and others...McDonald's, behind me was doing a brisk business as usual, and I could see the Greyhound Bus depot way down at the end of the line. I went over to the little mexican market(to the left as you face Fort Nixon) and used one of the pay phones outside on the wall to make a few US phone calls and check my voice mail. Time to hump the hill, I thought, as I walked back across the street towards the low chainlink fence that borders the sidewalk. A woman tried to interest me in some religious literature (JW) but I passed. As I stolled along the sidewalk towards the series of rising concrete switchbacks that bring you to "bridge level", I looked to my right and saw a couple of $1 buses that could take me in downtown TJ, right over by Palacio de Jai Lai, on Revolucion and 7th. One bus was a bright red Mexicoach, and the other was a bright,blue raggedy ol' school bus. I've taken'em both before, but last week's weather was so nice I decided to walk to the Zona. I checked my watch. It was high noon. I started up the series of rising switchbacks, weaving in and out of the more leisurely walking folks, and those folks burdened with parcels, suitcases and plastic bags. I was amazed that I could almost continuously keep seeing those two tall hot pink and bright yellow hotels in the Zona. When I got to the top of the switchbacks I was about 30 feet up in the air, but I had to traverse the long, curving corridor that goes past various INS offices before reaching the open air bridge that crosses over US Interstate 5 as it goes into ( and abruptly ends in) Mexico. US Border guards and INS patrolman on foot and bicycle, armed and ready for combat, abounded. I looked to my right as I traversed the corridor and saw a car being disassembled during a search in the lot below. Suddenly, the sun hit me full in the face as I walked All the time that I was crossing the bridge, I could see the two tall hotel buildings, one hot pink and the other bright yellow, in the heart of the Zona Norte. When I got to the end of the bridge I stopped and got my bearings. The hot pink and bright yellow buildings were to the West. Behind them were the hills that rapidly dropped down on the other side to the Pacific Ocean and the beaches. The Bull Ring by the Sea was over there some where,too...As I faced the plainly evident area of the Zona Norte ( where all the whores are, by the way...),my eyes locked onto the big pink building. Think pink, I thought. I realized that directly behind me was EAST, in the direction of the TJ airport, a lot of desert, the Gulf of Mexico and Texas. To my right was NORTH, San Ysidero, Chula Vista, National City, San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle...all good 'ol USA cities. To my left was SOUTH, most of the 2 million people that live in Tijuana, Rosarita, Ensenada and the rest of Baja California, all the way down to Cabo San Lucas. And yet, here before my very eyes only a short distance away as the crow flies, was the Zona Norte of Tijuana, Mexico... Ahhhh, if I were a crow...but no, I'd have to hoof it all the way. I took a last look at the big pink building on the left and the bright yellow building on the right. The pink building is the Hotel Cascadas, sitting atop Las Chavelas Bar, immediately to the right as you face the Adelita Bar. The bright yellow building sets atop the Tropical Bar on the opposite side of the street, Calle Coahuila. Since I had no wings, I had to descend the switchbacks, getting to the bottom and turing to the right towards the heavy metal turnstiles that led to the official border. Some kind of charity worker started hitting me up for money to feed starving children. I declined to contribute, knowing that somewhere along the line, my trip would end up somehow feeding children, who may or may not be starving, but who no doubt could use the food. I looked at my watch. Not counting the time I took to gaze fondly upon the Zona from the top of the border bridge, it had taken me about 10 minutes to go up the San Ysidero side (USA) and down the other side (where we're still in the USA). Even the turnstyle is in US territory. I leaned into the turnstile. It's a bitch to turn. They oughta grease it, but then it's designed to slow people down. Once on the otherside of the turnstile, about 20 feet from it, is the official USA-Mexico border, as marked by a foot-wide line at your feet and a monument tellin' you that you are now, in fact straddling the "real border". Fom this point, as the crow flies...I realized that I was a mere six-tenths of a mile (one kilometer, according to my maps) from the Zona Norte. At my normal walking pace, I figured I could get there in 15 minutes. As I walked past another small Customs office, there were was a table set up with some officers checkin incoming tourists. They had a card table set up with an umbrella over it...they may have taken my picture, because the guy had me stop and in front of what looked like a traffic light at eye level, and then pressed a button. He asked me if I was bringing anything in. ( I had an over-the-shoulder, travel bag with me...) I said, "Just clothes..." . He seemed satisfied and waved me by. To my right was a long wall, with a Mexican mural painted along it's length... I walked through the turnstile straight ahead and my vision was blinded by a sea of Yellow Taxis...there must've been a hundred at least. All the taxi drivers were hangin' out in there light yellow shirts, hustling for passengers...Immediately the "Taxistas" started askin' me for business, in English, of course. I opted instead to just keep on walkin' towards the Zona, figurin' I'd be there in about 15 minutes. I turned to the right and wove my way along the side walk, jammed with people patronizing the taco stands to my right and walked all the way to the end where the off-track betting parlor and it's rowdy patrons were egging on their pony picks. Up ahead was a cross-walk that led to the large shopping plaza, Viva Tijuana. I crossed the street, noting that to my left was a "gloria" or traffic circle, in the vicinity of which were the bus depots from which the buses to Ensenada other points, leave from. As I entered the shopping plaza, Viva Tijuana to my left I noted a bar with a thatched-roof with huge, but sun-weathered sculpture of a scorpion on top. Some kind of bar I guess. I followed the crowd, straight ahead and was, of course, accosted by vendors of belts, hats, serapes, sombreros, jewelry, you name it. As the plaza opened up into a more spacious area, about 100 yeards from the point at which I had entered, the restaurant guys started haranging me to buy dollar Coronas. Up ahead I could see the bright green foot bridge, that I would have to ascend to cross the Tijuana River in order to get into the city proper. To my right I noticed the "mechanical bull" set up, where would-be bullriders could take their lumps...to my left was the weird gyroscopic supension device where one could be strapped into the contraption and spun every which way but loose... I started ascending the bright green foot bridge that crossed the Tijuana river ( a concrete-encased river bed that is little more than a open culvert until the flood waters race out of the hills during winter rain storms...) Up on top the bridge ( which is maybe 30 feet above the river), I was accosted by little kids selling chiclets, elderly Indian women trying to sell me beaded bracelets or other trinkets, and was entertained by more little kids strumming out-of-tune guitars and playing accordians , while bellowing out Mexican folksongs at the tops of their little lungs... As I crossed the top of the bridge, I looked slightly to my right and saw the familiar pink and yellow hotels of the Zona...only a few more minutes away...maybe ten. It's all that bridge climbing that eats up track time...When I got to the end of the bright green pedestrian bridge, I paused and re-established my bearings. Looking slight to my right I could see my Zona landmarks. The Tijuana River was now behind me , flowing north and then west to the Pacific Ocean. I descended the switchbacks and found myself in a dirty little plaza, with a dried up fountain at it's center. Too the right was a restaurant and bar, (Arturo's I think... they got a neat view of TJ from the upstairs bar...)A lot of silversmiths are sellin' stuff in this area... I walked to the cross-walk by the restaurant and noticed the "Medicine Man" pharmacy (farmacia) right in front of me, on the other side of the street, slightly to the left...I crossed the street and headed up past all the leather/knick-knack shops on the left and the restaurants on the right for about one short block... I just kept on going 'cause at this point I was on the street that leads to the Zona Norte...Articulo 123...at the end of the block is the Hotel Azteca , with its huge mural on the side ( I guess its a portrayal of a couple of Aztecs doin' somethin'...) Whew!...I made it to Revolucion! As I stand at the corner I can see the Tourist Bureau across the street and to the left on the corner where all the mariachi musicians hang out. Behind the Tourist Bureau is the big, blue Hotel Nelson and a small plaza... Now I gotta be on guard 'cause I'm entering a dangerous part of the Zona...the one block section of Articulo 123 (the street) between Revolucion and Constitucion ( the street that leads to the Zona directly...). I put myself on "red alert" and cross into the danger zone. The smell of Mexican-style fried chicken permeates the air, and the only speech heard is in Spanish, much of it cursing. The general din is punctuated with the occasional outburst of laughter, a yell, or sometimes, a spontaneously sung song...I make sure to walk "in the street" rather than in the sidewalk... Total "walk time" from the Mexican-USA border to the Zona (where the whores are): 15 minutes elapsed time ( discounting for time taken for leisurely views from the pedestrian bridge). And, I'll be doggoned, but I can still see those pink and yellow hotels...tough to lose site of...
Up ahead I can see to my right the Police substation, and to my left I can see Callejon Coahuila (the "alley"). As I trudge past the alley I glance down and see more street girls...but I know where I'm headed ...and fast! I turn left at the corner of Constitucion and Calle Coahuila ( the street, not the alley),by the corner liqour store and walk on the left side of the street about 70 feet west, nod to the doorman seated on his stool, and slip into the heavily draped door of Adelita's. KRICO
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