Six weeks in Tijuana
Observations from a remote worker
“You came to the murder capital of the world to teach on the internet?” asked an (understandably?) incredulous US Customs and Border Patrol Officer on my first trip back across the border. I had been in Tijuana for a week by this point.
I came to Tijuana because I can and because it’s cheap. (Yes, even though it really is the home of the most homicides on Earth.) I make a decent living as a wandering writer and teacher but it can be wildly inconsistent and managing my budget is essential. Prices in Tijuana are very, very reasonable for just about everything. For everything else, just go to the States for an afternoon.
The AirBnB I was staying in was at the edge of Rinconada de Otay, overlooking Murua Poniente. This is a working class neighborhood, small rowhouses separated into tiny enclaves. Every building in the neighborhood — no matter how large or small, clean or dirty, upper class or middle or lower, business or residence — is modeled after the US consulate a mile away: a private fortress.
Razor and barbed wire rings every balcony, bars adorn every window on every floor, every wall is topped with barbed…
