Return to Tijuana (A 15 plus year exile)

It has been more than fifteen years since I have been to Tijuana, Mexico. When I was much younger and harbored more illusions about the future, way back in the early 1990s, I used to make trips to this border city. It was an adventure, and appealed to me as an exotic outing, one in which I would supposedly get in touch with my roots while making a few purchases. While young people would make it a ritual of passage to attend the clubs and become inebriated, and older adults would buy curiosities, (velvet paintings, blankets, presription drugs and, most often, hard liquors), I was motivated to go in order to look for books of all types. I would go to the many newspaper stands and buy photonovelas, as well as look for bookstores to buy varios textbooks. I was never as successful as I might have hoped. While the newspaper stands were everywhere (not this time, however), there were few bookstores and I would typically not find the values I had been looking for. It was my quest when I made the trip, but all I found were small dingy shops that catered to school kids, where textbooks were available but little else. If there were a modicum of books they consisted of a slim selection of Mexican classics, all of them from the Porrua editorial line that specialized in inexpensive paperbacks with no editorial footnotes nor annotations. My quest was a very modest one that met with even more limited success, and I would trudge back to the border, to be met with long lines as people were returning.

Today what motivated me was my desire to attend a folklorico festival. It was sponsored by a local folklorico group, the Ballet Folklorico Ticuan, and was held in the downtown area, close to the intersection of Avenida Revolucion and 2nd Street. A short stretch of the street was closed and a stage was set up. Immediately preceeding the event there was a short parade by the participating groups. The parade was not a gaudy affair. There were no community groups, no marching bands, no dignitaries, no celebrities. It started late, shortly after 1:00 p.m. and consisted only of folklorico members walking down the street with no other accompaniment. And since the tourists have abandoned Tijuana and very few locals are on these streets, it seemed as if they were parading through a ghost town.

Tijuana is a city that is struggling. It looks as if it has been knocked on its back and is undergoing the final count in a boxing match. I see it in the defeated attitude of the residents, in the lack of people on the streets, in the aura of pessimism and defeat that I seem to detect throughout the area. It is a far cry from the cacophony of hawkers and the waves of people that used to crowd this city in the past. Back then, Avenida Revolucion was full of activity. There were bars and clubs everywhere, and hordes of excited tourists, especially young Americans who were looking for cheap thrills and unsavory stimulation. Painted burros were located at every street corner, with eager photographers inviting people to pose for photographs. There were hustlers everywhere, and in a sense, it was a constant din that was intrusive but also indicative of a certain optimism that seems to have vanished. Now, the few tourists who I saw are the poor bohemian types who hardly look prosperous and who are probably unable to spend very much. The suburban Anglo crowds are noticeably absent.

This tourism industry has contracted sharply as a result of the economic difficulties and, probably most significantly, the drug wars in Mexico. There has been a spike in violence during the last few years as Felipe Calderon continues to pursue his obsessive, quixotic, counter-productive war against the drug barons, and as a result, we have been bombarded in the United States with news about the calamitous consequences. These are, of course, increased hyper-violence of the most sordid type, with drug barons killing and kidnapping people, with decapitated bodies discovered with frightful regularity, with mass graves discovered and with the unsettling sight of military troops that have been called into many of the most unstable border cities.

We also hear a constant stream of reports about narco leaders who are on the run and are occasionally caught. The supply is inexhaustible, like the Hydra that grows two head for every one that is cut off. We also hear of their hired help, unfortunate souls who have lost their humanity such as the famous "Pozolero", a man who would receive corpses and would dissolve them in barrels of acid until there was precious little left to identify them. He would convert what had been living and breathing people into a soup, the homely "pozole", all in the service of the drug barons.

There are advisories against going to Mexico, and we are told that it is not safe. And despite all of this, of course, the city has no choice but to struggle to survive. I feel as if Mexico is in a no-win situation. They are heavily dependent upon trade with the United States, but this dependence has created the conditions for a rapidly expanding drug trade that has severely undercut the security infrastructure of the country. The development that was promised as a result of the Free Trade treaty of the 1990s has evaporated and it is no wonder that capital has been fleeing from Mexico. News of rampant crime and violence as well as the growing economic disparities has resulted in a sputtering economy that is in a deep freeze. While other countries in Latin America such as Brazil are experiencing record rates of growth by reaching out to the rest of the world, especially to a dynamic China that sports an impressive halo (who knows how long that will last?) Mexico is tied to a fading giant. I hate to say it, but the United States is a country in decline, and Mexico is unable to free itself. I fear they will be unable to avoid being dragged under.

As indicated above, while taking a short stroll along the plazas and the streets I detected an aura of desperation. During any weekend but particularly during a holiday weekend (this Memorial Day weekend), the city should have been a bee hive of activity. There should have been a massive influx of tourists, and the city should have seemed a more attractive place for investment. Not now. I saw evidence (it is hardly hidden) of deteriorating buildings, of burned hulks of buildings, of roads that are not well maintained, and even of desultory beggers who seem to be going through the motions without any expectation of success. Twenty years ago we used to be swarmed by piteous Indian women hawking boxes of Chiclets. Once again, not now. There are a few but most seem to have resigned themselves to being ignored. There are no more easy pickings among the prosperous tourists because the tourists have largely disappeared.

As I arrived I also would have to confess that I didn't feel safe. I felt as if I might be accosted and robbed at any moment. I would be careful not to be followed, and would panic whenever young men would draw near. The dynamism of Tijuana used to hide the seediness. Now, there is no veil to disguise this. I was desperate to finish taping the event in order to return. And, I have to admit, I was so very, very exhausted at the end of the day, tempted to take up the incessant offer of a "taxi" but knowing that I would have been charged $20 for a one-block ride. That hasn't changed.

I was allowed to stand in an upper floor of a building facing the stage. I was surprised that I was allowed to do so. The guard insisted that I ask permission, and then he graciously granted it. This indicated to me that there is such a thing as a Tijuana Complex. People want to feel recognized and treated with respect, and for most of its history Tijuana has been sorely abused. It is the forlorn child who is peering through the fence with longing at the opulence of San Diego.

Also, I have to state for the record that Tijuana will not prosper if they insist on overcharging the few tourists who arrive. I went to a KFC in order to buy what I thought was a "snacker" sandwich, the kind that are sold for $1 in the US. There was a sign that said "49c". Of course I assumed it meant "49 cents", and I thought it was reasonable that is should be half as expensive as in the US. When I tried to pay with a dollar bill, I was told that the price was really "49 Mexican Pesos", which in American currency is about $4.90 (the dollar is trading at about 11 pesos). I was outraged. How is it that they can try to charge such high prices in Mexico? Are those only tourist prices because, otherwise, I see no way in which Mexicans could afford to pay a day's wages for one small sandwich. Manifestly these are tourist prices and they are offensive. The commercial establishments will not make up for low volume by overcharging tourists. I walked out in disgust without completing the purchase.

I know, I know, it is the eternal dynamic of two unequal economies sitting side by side. American tourists used to be so patronizing when visiting Mexico, and this was sorely resented, but the resentment was mitigated by overcharging them. Now the American tourists (and we Mexican Americans of course are counted among them) have abandoned Mexico, which is even more of an indignity. Perhaps this engenders hostility as well as even more severe overgouging. I was angry at being treated as a golden goose to be divested of my eggs. Yes, to be cheated does have an accompanying sexual connotation of losing one's sense of virility.

Here are a few photos I took with my camcorder. They are somewhat out-of-focus along the edges, but they are in a format that I think is pleasing. It is similar to a 6x9 or 6x12 negative, and it makes me want to experiment with my large format cameras once again. However, I can't go back to film. It is too expensive, and too prone to exposure errors, especially if I am trying to use slide film. Also, the old cameras that I have bought on Ebay have not been the most reliable cameras. My 6x9 Agfa Viking camera has what I suspect are pinhole leaks but I have not confirmed this yet. I have a roll that I loaded almost six years ago, but I have not even complete the roll yet.

Now, modern-day Tijuana:

There is now a new landmark that I don't recall from the 90s. It is the Tijuana Arch. It is not nearly as big as the St. Louis Arch, and it does seem strangely insubstantial, but is is easily visible. There is also a performance stage next to it where singers were trying to work the sparse crowds. It was somewhat dreary to see this, especially when a singer would apologize for having to circulate among the crowds with a basket to ask for donations. I think they made a bee line for any tourists visible, but there were very few. I think I stood out, though, because they approach me.

The above building has a beautiful facade.

The streets in Tijuana seem strangely abandoned.

Trinkets are displayed on every street corner, but I saw very few sales.

As the above photo demonstrates, Tijuana is no longer a bustling city.