Imperial Beach to Tijuana

On our drive from Vegas to Tijuana, the Dopps were looking forward to showing Victor, Sofia and Olympe our favorite place: Imperial Beach, California.  I've lost track of how many glorious, sun-drenched weeks we've spent there over the past 25 years.  Driving into town is like coming home, only with palm trees and giant pizza.  First stop, the 99 cent store.  Then we called Rose and ordered our Seacoast Pizza.  While we waited for it, we went to the pier and Bibby's Shell Shop.  Bibby's had all new murals outside.

It takes a real man to carry the GIANT Seacoast Pizza.  I'm not kidding.  It's dangerously large.

I had a moment on the beach, looking around at our kids' childhood beach town, and remembering Golda and Ruby as little girls.  They used to do the same cute little pose in the sand every year, hand on the hip, heads leaned in together, one leg outstretched with the toes flexxed.  It seemed unbearably poignant, sad even, that I was in IB without those little girls.  I made Ruby cry with my nostalgia.

We left IB before I had a complete breakdown and sailed across the border into Mexico.  Our Airbnb in Playas de Tijuana is only four miles from Imperial Beach.  Surreal!  I'll show you pictures; we could see the IB pier from the beach in TJ.  This is our magnificent Mexican house.  We had three bedrooms and beautiful outdoor gardens.  I think it was like $90 a night, and we were taken care of like kings.

Scott said he would be nervous until I got back.  I reassured him that I felt totally safe.  I sent him a picture of the "security system" and pointed out the double locks.  Does it get any safer than double locks?! Actually, we didn't even get a key to the place until the third day. Jimmy and Camilo, the other guy, were always there to open the locked gate to the property. It was safe, and so was the neighborhood. I was women walking and jogging alone and kids walking or biking with friends.

This is Jimmy, the boss of our house.  The host was out of town, and Jimmy was in charge.  We loved him.  In fact, he made our trip much livlier and more special than it would otherwise have been.

The bouganvillea!!

Once we settled in, we rode bikes to the beach.  It was about a 10 minute ride on these ancient beach cruisers that our host had available for us.  What fun!  The beach is great.  Clean, safe, families and happy people roving about.  Sofia and Araceli were getting their hair braided by some local ladies.  The ladies were having a great time speaking Spanish with the Spaniards, when a dreadlocked American druggie came and sat by us.  She was all strung out.  Long story short, she was obnoxious and I asked her to leave, at which point she attacked me, grabbing my sunglasses off my face and going off on a tirade that included the Pledge of Allegiance and claiming all the kids as her own.  While some muscled douchebag who looked strong enough to help pulled out his phone to film the confrontation, another guy called the cops. The hair braiding ladies and I stood between this crazy woman and our teenagers, and tried to keep her away.  The police came immediately and carted her off to jail, kicking and screaming.  At me.

I was shaken.  I've never been so shaken, in fact.  The braiding ladies calmed me and told us that they had never seen that crazy lady, and that a scene like that was completely abnormal. We stayed awhile and finished the braids and enjoyed the evening before riding our bikes home in the cool Pacific air. I was terribly relieved that the crazy druggie was in police custody.

Upon leaving the beach, Ruby and I talked to the guy who had called the police. The beach is below a little avenue full of shops. Then there's a retianing wall and the beach below. This guys sits on the wall and keeps an eye on his kids as they rent out umbrellas on the beach. Turns out, he was American. From Davis, California. And he was LDS. He assured us that we'd be fine at the beach. He rents out parking spots in his garage for 5 bucks a day, and told us to come park with him the next day and he'd keep an eye on us. Such a wonderful guy, knew everyone who passed by. Playas had a real neighborhood feel to it.

And then, a few blocks up the road, Ruby and I stopped at what looked like a semi-permanent yard sale. An elderly couple had a table set up with used clothes. I tried out my rusty Spanish on them, and guess what? They were American. From California. (Originally from Guatemala). And they were LDS. The husband went inside and got some temple cards with the address and schedule. The wife said that next time we visited Tijuana, we'd stay with them.

I rode home uplifted and in awe of the "tender mercies" that I'd received after the confrontation with that scary woman. Before going to Mexico, I was nervous about driving there and taking all those kids. I had prayed to know if it was safe, and I got this surge of love and understanding for the people of Baja. I know that sounds crazy, but that download of peace and love allayed all my fears. Dreadlock girl had shaken those feelings of security, but our new friend Ivan at the beach and the temple couple had completely restored my faith that we were watched over. Not only that, but that we were among good people and had no need to fear.

I was able to put that frightening experience in a box and toss it out, and really enjoy the people and culture of Mexico. We had so much fun. It was magical. I want to go back immediately and show Scott all the things we did and saw, and delve deeper into the culture. I'm so happy we went.