South Of The Border

It was kind of strange to be sitting on a greyhound bus again after being spoilt with private chauffeurs for so long but the three hour trip was not bad. We started walking around town in search of a hostel and before we had found one we bumped in to Simon, who had left Los Angeles the day before us and he guided us to where he was staying. San Diego really has a much more relaxed vibe than L.A. it is very walkable and if you cant walk to your destination public transport is good. During the days we walked around the bay, Balboa Park (which is the largest urban park in U.S.A) and took a bus to nearby La Jolla where sealions and very wealthy Americans share a strip of the coast. Our hostel was in the gaslamp quarters which happens to be the main bar area, so needless to say we felt at home. After four days we all went in our separate directions and I decided that my time in the United States was officially over. From San Diego you can actually catch the tram all the way to San Ysidro where the busiest border in the world lies, I did this and 40 minutes later I was in Mexico. Only problem was I hadn't realised I was in Mexico and had completely missed the border control, so I went back and got my passport stamped to avoid future problems, I guess the border is more for keeping Mexicans out of USA than vice versa.

The short walk from the border to downtown Tijuana provided me with more clichés and stereotypes than I had expected, within minutes I had been offered countless drugs, sombreros, tequilas, beers and women. I turned all offers down, found a cheap hotel to put my bag down and walked out to see what else was on offer. Turns out that was pretty much it just in much larger quantities, shopowners, stripclub promoters, salesmen and donkeys painted as zebras stood at every corner, and everybody wanted part of this newly arrived gringos wallet, and we had only just passed midday. I stuck to the main downtown drag the whole day, drinking in the crazy before calling it a night. The following morning I decided to get out and went to the busstation, I told them I wanted to go South and they asked me where. I had no idea so just pointed at a town on a map that looked of decent size and asked them how long it would take. San Quintin, where my finger had landed, was only 5 or 6 hours away, so I should get there before sunset. In actuality I arrived way after sunset and what on the map had looked like a decent size town turned out to be a very dark line of closed shops and restaurants parted by the highway. In very broken Spanish I asked the people at the terminal how far the beach was and if there were any hotels nearby, they laughed and said that at this hour it would be very difficult to get there, so I looked at the map again and pointed to a new destination, asking when the next bus there would be leaving. It was only a two hour wait (in actuality it was a four wait) so despite the ticket being expensive I decided to buy it and hope for better luck in the morning.