Crossroads

San Ysidro/Tijuana - music of Bic Runga – Gravity

Recently I discovered that the tram that passes by my house goes all the way to Mexico, to the border city of Tijuana. This idea exited my adventurous spirit who wanted to be so close and still not there... Off topiiiiiiiiic..., the tram also stops to an Outlet Mall that just happens to be there. ;)

Therefore, I bought a tickets, jumped in the tram and started so the adventure!

I passed downtown, the industrial district, some villages, colored wild flowers bordering the tracks, Tijuana river, all the way to San Ysidro – the border town of the Southern California.

Amazing how fast you reach an end of a road.

One crossroad up I passed a bridge (which has also a side walk!) built over the highway I-5 which crosses the two countries. I've got there around noon. So, the view had to impress me on my return, in the evening, when I walked the same road towards the tram station. The bridge offers a perfect view over the hills and towns from "the other side". What catches the attention, though, is the huge Mexican flag that flutters in the wind and obviously can be observed from an impressive distance. Hm... great idea!, but what just happened with the American patriotism?... Probably was all wasted through the building of some 500km of fence dedicated to the limitation of southern immigration?!

The moment that moved me:

Through the evening, an amazing number of Mexicans get back home from work, at the south of the American dream. Simple humans, that live their lives between two worlds, were walking home with different vehicles – cars (apparently bought and registered in California, because I have not seen even one car with Mexican license plates), Tijuana charters, tram, coach, on foot, etc. I was the only white person, but not Hispanic (!) that crossed the bridge in the opposite side – towards San Diego, not Mexico. All the people that walked against me had the same facial features, same road to home, and for sure the same cultural baggage. The ones that walked alone seemed generally sad, while the one walking in groups were happily chatting. Another Hispanic stereotype related to machismo – that attitude which falsely breathes "I'm always fine", rain or shine... On the middle of the bridge I took a look at the entire immediate section of the highway. On the north bound the traffic was fluid – one or two cars here and there, while on the south bound – jam on all seven lanes!! Bumper to bumper. My friends tell me this seems to be every evening's scenery, at the most crowded border in the world. For a second I tried to think about all the souls that managed or not to cross this border. What did this mean for each of them. I felt a mix of romanticism, drama and ignorance. How much do we actually know about these people? How much do others actually know about us? What is actually our road in this life?

I got back on the tram. Only now I realized how empty it actually is, when going back to the city...

The sun set over the Pacific, bringing night over Mexico... as well as over all of us, isn't it? Life goes on.

Note: George Lopez could raise the moral, right about now.