Tijuana, Mexico

An early start had us crossing the Mexican border by 9am with no fanfare. It is an open border this way, and Americans (and others) are free to enter as they choose.

The most immediate signs that you have entered Mexico are a rapid deterioration in the road conditions and an extraordinary number of police cruisers. As a well known staging point for the entry of drugs into the US, law enforcement on both sides has a busy job.

Driving into downtown Tijuana was quite straightforward despite the network of one way streets, and we quickly found an off-street parking lot with an attendant.

Walking around the streets, it is so refreshing to see genuine smiles and greetings again after the studied falsehood that infects most of America. It is a subtle difference between nice service and being served by nice people, but I definitely prefer the latter. It seems that the more developed a country becomes, the more disconnected its people become from one another.

Ambling along Avenido Revolucion (Revolution Avenue), we thoroughly enjoyed the 1950's architecture, palm lined streets, and exuberant shopkeepers that accept pesos or US dollars at a rate of 15:1.

With no cell phone service, no internet, no maps, and my atrocious schoolboy Spanish - we sensed that we were missing some of the essence of Tijuana. A chance meeting with a chap on a street corner led to an offer for a guided tour in his car. We accepted, only to have him face a family emergency, and hand us off to his brother to fulfil the promised tour.

Tito (the brother) proved to be a most entertaining host, taking us to a local market for fresh coconuts and then up into the residential district where he grew up with spectacular views down over the business and commercial districts. Whilst there, we sat street side at a row of taco stalls eating with workers enjoying their own midday meal. The cooking process was fast end efficient, searing meat over a hot coal brazier and hand rolling soft tacos, tortillas, and burritos. The stand owners were very friendly, and I ended up press ganged into cooking duties - backed by an agreement that Luis (the chef) would need to return to Australia to look after my job. I'm sure the staff at the PRC would think he was better qualified anyway.