TRAILS OF TWO CITIES- DRUG WARS, CATHOLIC DESIRES, COLD SHOWERS, AND THE THREE TEMPTATIONS OF EVE (part 1)

Tale of two cities, TJ and Ensenada? This must be some kind of joke, right? Tijuana and Ensenada are a joke, right, just cheap kicks for the Homies, though as close as many will get to a foreign country? I consider such slights to be misplaced, not only out of consideration to the million souls who call the area home, but for the fact that the area is truly unique in the world. The entire US-Mexico border is; never has a line divided so much, Latino-Germanic, control-freedom, centrality-sprawl, pessimism-optimism. But beyond the Roman sandals, red tile roofs, and Latin language, Mexico is essentially an Indian country, more than any other country in Latin America, with the possible exception of Guatemala. While Peru and Bolivia may have large percentages and the official ‘Indian’ languages of Quechua and Aymara’, they also have large purely white populations who dominate the country, at least pre-Evo. Such is not necessarily the case in Mexico, where populations have long mixed freely and cuisine, appearance, and custom are arguably more indigenous than European. The ‘rez’ in Arizona looks uncannily similar to Mexico, from populations long separated by a border.

The first time I visited the Mexican border was back in the old days of donkey shows, Boys’ Town, and choc-a-block whore houses. They closed all that down long ago. Now the girls stand on the sidewalks not a hundred yards from the silver arch, wearing cheap make-up like neon signs for cheap hotels where they line the entrances. This is a vast improvement over discreet internal goings-on, girls in Catholic-school uniforms now selling sex on sidewalks. That’s not fair. Somebody’s downloading my subconscious, not that I would prey on their youth mind you, but I might pray on their religion. My tastes in women are Catholic, Buddhist, Hindu, and Jewish, anything but Muslim. But I’m married now. Still back then I was enthralled at the possibilities for sex, drugs, and r&r. The food was wild, the gas smelled weird and the taxi drivers were eager to please. I was hooked, and the rest is history. I was convinced this was the weirdest place in the world. Now I know why. It is. I quickly moved on to more exotic and far-flung locations, from whose lofty vantage the US-Mexico border seemed quaint at best, hardly the ‘real thing’, maybe even a perversion.

After traveling and dealing handicrafts from many countries for many years I finally re-visited the border about a decade ago as a tax maneuver. Now that I have a foreign ‘tax home’ (how’s that for a misnomer?) complete with foreign income, to avoid paying taxes on it in the US I need to stay out of the country. Though Thailand was/is the ‘tax home’ of record, the Mexican border certainly qualifies as another country, so is useful for killing some time in and around the US. Welcome to Ensenada. It seemed pretty nice, especially a decade ago when I was still single and anxious to compare it tit-for-tat with Thailand after a couple years there. I also needed to revive my use of Spanish language, in serious atrophy after being displaced by Thai, though never a problem before, like linguistic civil wars. Ensenada was rockin’ back then in several bars I liked, ranchero, salsa, and jazz for the price of a beer. That was when I could not only drink every night, but drink in several different places every night, just like Thailand but better music and fatter girls.

All that’s changed now. As Tijuana degenerates into drug cartel turf wars, its party scene is going south, mostly to Rosarito but also Ensenada. Hardly more than a stop sign ten years ago, Rosarito Beach is now party central, less than half an hour from TJ and open for business, complete with double-decker discos and border-blaster boom boxes. Ensenada is not immune. Though larger and better able to maintain its original identity, it’s under increasing assault, mostly self-inflicted. Hussong’s, formerly a funky cantina with a far-reaching business plan, has long since one-upped itself with ‘Papas ‘n Beer’ and ‘Mango Mango’, lines stretching out the door. What’s the big attraction anyway? Aren’t California bars good enough? Not if you’re eighteen years old, they’re not. In Mexico teen-age American girls can dance on the bar and do all the other things that drive the local boys crazy, especially the ones who’ve seen ‘Girls Gone Wild’. What will happen if and when new passport regs are applied to the border areas is uncertain, but the likely economic impact is real enough that special consideration was given at the last minute, and implementation was postponed.

The two cities themselves long represented divisions as real as the border itself symbolized- TJ the cheap and tacky, Ensenada authentic and self-sufficient. The same symbolism has long defined other cities of my consideration, including LA-San Fran, Chiang Mai-Chiang Rai, Sedona-Flagstaff, all representing a fundamental difference in lifestyle. Sedona people don’t DO Flagstaff, and vice-versa, generally speaking. Even though the two are only thirty miles and thirty minutes away, that three thousand foot difference in elevation seems to speak volumes. If nothing else, the age difference is palpable. Falling on ice probably isn’t much fun over sixty. San Fran’s more romantic and intellectual, while LA’s more physical and image-conscious. Chiang Rai is the ‘real’ Thailand; Chiang Mai is Interzone. Well Ensenada’s changed a lot in the last ten years and not just with the TJ party scene. Cruise ships land now with regularity and have come to define the town. Chinese walk the streets in throngs, but I suspect they’re investment tourists. They’re not snapping photos; they’re snapping up opportunities. Chinese restaurants have vastly improved beyond the chop suey fare of yesteryear and buffets are down to $3 a head. Elsa’s pollo con mole is still $2 a plate, with tortillas made creamy only by the use of lard, pure lard. Loosen that belt.