Down Mexico Way

Since my last series of travel blogs were quite popular, I decided to start sharing some of my various travel stories. In this latest adventure blog, I take a coach trip from Los Angeles to Tijuana to experience a bit of Mexico for a little weekend trip. Things don't go as planned, per usual, and I am forced to get creative. 

January 2015 
I'd just moved to Los Angeles. I stretched out under a brilliant sunny morning in southern California. I felt the call of adventure pulling at me, although I'd just wrapped up an adventure in settling into my new flat. Hollywood Blvd. Sure I cut some corners to get here, but the point is I made it. The thought occurs to me that I'm not that far from Mexico and I could go there for a little weekend away. Treat myself. I look at coach trips from Los Angeles to Tijuana. I'd been aching to go there ever since I saw Clerks II and heard about the donkey show. (I wasn't going to see a donkey show, though the thought did catch my mind.) I found a coach trip that went from LA to Tijuana direct and I thought it was just the thing for me. I bought my coach ticket, packed a bag and had my mate drop me off at the station downtown.



When I boarded the coach, I was full of excitement; after I crossed to border into Mexico, I'd have achieved my goal of visiting every country on the North American continent. I didn't count the islands in this, those are a goal of mine which I'll hopefully achieve sometime. I'm actually thinking about heading to the Bahamas maybe. Admittedly, I was not in the best frame of mind when I made this choice. I wasn't thinking clearly and therefore didn't bring much cash with me. I didn't even exchange currencies before I went. Most of it was a blur, the journey down. I remember watching the dry hills pass by as we dove south. I had my music blasting in my ears, chatting away to anyone on the bus who engaged me. I told perfect strangers about my life, why I was heading to Mexico and about my books. I bounced in my seat, colours swirling around me. That's pretty much all that I can remember until we got to the Mexican border.

I was wearing my beanie hat when I jumped off the bus with my bag. I walked into the little white building and handed my passport to the officer. "Why are you going to Mexico?" "I'm going on a little holiday, just to see the sights so to speak!" He flipped through my document and handed it back to me. "Are you going to return to the United States via ground or air?" "I'm going to take the coach, I mean, the bus back." The question struck me as odd. I'd never been asked that going across into Canada via coach, but then again with all the trouble at the southern border, maybe that's why. I collected my bag after it had been looked through and jumped back onto the coach. 

We crossed into Mexico and a wave of pride overtook me. I'd done it. Goal accomplished! It didn't take long until we got to the drop off spot. That's fuzzy too. I'd made friends with a man on the coach that was going to the same hotel as I was. I realised that we'd arrived late and I had no way to exchange currency, so I made him a deal, if he helped me get to the hotel, I would pay for his room for the night. He agreed. I'd asked people around me if I could use American Express for things and all of them said no, Visa was the most accepted card or cash. I should have been panicked going with a stranger, in a place where I didn't speak the language and had no cash on me. It went alright. We chatted in the taxi to the hotel.

I don't know why but I was nice to him, friendly. He got a room on my floor and we hung out watching videos on my laptop. He asked me if I wanted to stay together later, despite the late hour. I told him no. I got an uneasy feeling about him, the wanting to stay, the room on the same floor. I asked him to leave, thankfully he did without a fight. He called my room after he left wanting to know if I wanted to hang out the next day. I didn't want to. I didn't have options. I wanted to leave. Thankfully, the hotel that I was at was told me they could convert my currency for me so I could get a taxi to the spot where the coach was to take me back over to the U.S. 

The morning was gorgeous. It was heating up. I'd forgotten that they don't really have a winter around here; despite it being January, the day was overcast, the sun was struggling to break through the clouds and heat up the day. I was up on the 4th or 5th floor of the building and got to look out over the city. It was beautiful. The early morning haze looked out over the hills as I sipped coffee. It was a nice little break. The phone rang again. I knew who it was. That same man. The unease swirled around me. I need to go. It was a day early, but better safe than sorry. I was dropped off at a pickup spot right before the border crossing. I arrived with 15 minutes to spare the next morning. There wasn't a coach in sight. I waited until 20 minutes past the pickup time and I realised that the coach wasn't there, I had no way to get across the border but to walk. I followed the signs and got into a massive line. I couldn't believe how many people were walking across. The wait time was insane. I stood in the slow-moving line for 2 hours. There were all sorts of people there. People chattered mainly in Spanish, some English, some German and some Italian. I'd never seen so many people at a border crossing. I didn't talk to anyone. I'd never been in a situation like this before. I didn't know what to think. 

I then realised that I'd only brought one of my passports; I'd forgotten my other one back in Los Angeles. Did that really matter? My twisting mood turned into a sort of nervousness. I felt nothing but anxiety as I made my way to the border. Finally, I made my way to the agent. "Passport?" I handed it to him, "When did you enter Mexico?" "Yesterday." "You came down from Los Angeles for one night?" "Yes." He looked at my passport. "Your accent doesn't match your passport." "Well, I have two. I have U.S and U.K cit-" He cut me off. "Why did you go to Mexico?" "I wanted to take in the sights. It was a quick trip, I just wanted to waste some time." He eyed me and my tattoos suspiciously. "I'm living in Los Angeles, I have a flat there." He handed me back my passport. "Bring your other passport next time. Have the two together."

I cross into the U.S and breathe relief. That was uncomfortable. I was in San Diego with no idea how to get back to Los Angeles. I tore up the other coach ticket cause it was useless and wandered around looking for any kind of transit centre. There was a McDonalds. I could connect to the WiFi there and get all the information that I needed. I sat in a booth with the first food I'd eaten in days. I was coming down. My thoughts were beginning to slow and the euphoria inside had started to fade. My thoughts wandered back to that man. I knew I was doing the right thing. Each time I'd suppressed my instinct it had led me to trouble, this time when they were screaming at me, I listened. 

I found I could get a train from San Diego to Los Angeles leaving soon. I head to the station and buy a ticket. I feel like I'm escaping something and I don't know why. I've got my iPad, a coke and time. I board the train and wave goodbye to San Diego. As the train heads up to LA, I watch the coastline. I love the colour of the sea. It's a happy blue colour with is contrasting the storm of emotions within me. I've not even finished this adventure when I feel that bite of wanderlust once again...which lead to the next adventure, which was in Sacramento.

**I'm going to do a blog about that and that will tie into a Vegas blog which only gets even more wilder. I'm looking back now and posting these blogs, but as a reminder, mental health is important. At the time I didn't realise what was happening with me. No one thought to notice or blow the whistle on me. I don't know if they just thought I was young and living it up or they didn't care. I think it was more a mixture of confusion as I look back. Maybe I should have known better, I really just don't know.**