It’s like a Sunday in TJ. It’s cheap but it’s not free.
—Donald Fagen

Before, during, and after our trip to Tijuana the other day for our family friend’s beautiful wedding, people have asked me and Tracie P whether we were scared or felt like we were in danger while there. The answer is no and no. On the way back home, Tracie P observed sweetly, “and I thought that folks were nice in Texas!”

Not that I’m surprised at the questions. The New York Times ran this article on how dangerous it is to go to Tijuana just one week before we went. While I don’t agree that it is dangerous for people like us to visit there, I did love the profile of Americans’s relationship with Tijuana in the piece (including quotes from Kerouac and Orson Welles). And I regret that the transnational culture that I enjoyed in the 1980s growing up in San Diego has disappeared, as one of the persons interviewed for the article observed.

“The relationship that once existed between the two sides is broken,” lamented Luis Ituarte, who splits his time between Los Angeles, where he promotes the arts, and Tijuana, where he runs a cultural center. “There used to be so much mixing. Young people in San Diego would go for the night to Mexico. As a young boy in Tijuana, a night out in San Diego was something I did all the time. You got to know people on the other side.”

I imagine I’m probably roughly the same age as Luis. Growing up in San Diego, attending La Jolla High School in the early 1980s, I had a lot of Mexican friends (most of them very wealthy), I learned to speak Spanish fluently (my first second language), and I traveled to Tijuana and other destinations in Baja California regularly (I also lived a summer in Mexico City). And yes, I went there to party like the other kids. But I also used to take my mother and out-of-town guests there to dinner. Sometimes, we’d even make the 45-minute-or-so drive just to have lunch in one of our favorite restaurants.

And remember: there’s SO much more to Tijuana than the cheesy Revolución district where people go to party.

I much prefer the Zona Río district where there are fantastic restaurants (like the one where we ate), shopping malls, and a wonderful Centro Cultural (where, while we were there, there was a Goya exhibition).

The only thing that’s really different from my high school and college days is the extremely long wait times at the auto crossing. But that’s easily remedied by walking across the border and taking cabs (very inexpensive).

We had so much fun that mama Judy and I are planning to take Mrs. and Rev. B when they come out to California to visit with us this fall.

On this side of the border, people have asked us earnestly if we felt in danger. On the other side of the border, people asked us ironically, “are you afraid?”

The answer in both cases is an earnest, honest, and heartfelt no.