Bike Tour: Riding Into Tijuana

It's not all that bad.

I wasn’t sure what to expect with my first trip to Tijuana, although drinking with asylum-seeking Russians wasn’t on my bingo card. Neither was enjoying the city; despite a close call with the National Guard.

Reaching The Border

Getting to the border from San Diego was a breeze. There are bike paths and smooth roads for most of the way (outside of some construction passing the Naval base).

The US side of the border might as well be Mexico. My first language barrier was the woman at the currency exchange window. High school Spanish was supposed to prepare me for this exact moment, but I was notorious for half-assing those classes (ask my mom who was the disciplinary clerk at that time. She bailed me out of a year's worth of detention for tardiness.)

With a enough head nodding I got my pesos and headed to the PedEast gate, which features a turnstile large enough to get my bike through. I wasn’t going in blind. In preparation, I watched some YouTube videos of the border crossing process.

The first interesting thing was how many people were crossing the border. It was a steady flow of people on their daily commute. The second interesting thing is that the Mexican official didn’t look at my passport; just waved at me though.

Getting On The Road

First order of business was riding to my hostel, which wasn’t far, but required the first leap of faith; getting on the road. I was pleasantly surprised with the conditions of the streets and room drivers were giving me. But I wasn’t on the road long, so it’s hard to judge the riding experience. On the 17th I’m riding to Rosarito; then Ensenada on the 18th. I’ll have a better impression by then.

It did give me a sigh of relief to see other cyclists on the road.

Hotel Paris

My hostel is on the top floor of the hotel; two rooms of bunks and a rooftop patio. Believe it or not, the hostel is not as nice as the one in San Diego 😅. But in a lot of ways, I like it much better. The best part of a hostel is interacting with strangers you otherwise would never interact with. And cheap rates. Hotel Paris certainly had both.

Asylum Seekers

I’m the only native English speaker in this hostel. Most of the staff only speaks Spanish. And beside the occasional German, Turkish, or Japanese traveler, most of the guests speak Russian; asylum seekers from Serbia, Belarus, Russia, etc.

I’ve tried not to pry. “Hey what's it like leaving your home country because of a war?” isn’t the greatest conversation to have. But what I’ve gathered is that if you have a critical view of Russia, or simply oppose the war all together, it was time to GTYO. There’s a mix of young men seeking a better future and fathers/husbands looking for better opportunities to provide for their family.

One man told me that he lost his job during Covid and now all his job opportunities in Belarus are government gigs that require him to “shut up” about anything anti-Russia. With tensions rising he made a choice to start fresh in the United States. He made it a point to explain how much luckier he was than others; waving over another man and saying, “...but this guy…this guy is a hero!” The completely normal looking suburban-dad-type had been using his van to help transport refugees (presumably out of Ukraine/Russia to Poland).

Again, I didn’t pry too much. I wasn’t going to play investigative journalist and dig for details; we were drinking; celebrating someone’s last night in Tijuana before finally crossing the border (congrats Ted). He had been at this hostel for over a month.

What was striking is that these are regular people. One pair of guys worked in the movie business. One kid on his way to Penn State; having to request an extension on his acceptance as he’s currently stuck in Tijuana. They all either have family or friends in the states ready to sponsor them, some with jobs lined up, but the US bureaucracy is slow and uncertain. I spent a night skimming through articles regarding the border crisis. It gave me a headache and great appreciation for the luck of the cosmic draw that landed me US citizenship.

A Wholesome Night

At night, the hostel rooftop scene is a group of dudes passing the proverbial aux cord; i.e. playing classic dance bangers, scenes from their favorite kung fu movies, and the occasional karaoke song. In what may have been the ultimate cultural crossover, I got to witness someone from Japan connect with someone from Russian over Punjabi MC — in Tijuana.

Debauchery

I did go to the strip club with a group celebrating Ted’s last night in TJ (sorry mom). I wasn’t going to at first, but my other plans fell through and after a couple “come on bro”-s, and a few screwdriver libations, I caved. It was an interesting experience to say the least.

The dark scene of prostitution right outside the clubs was unsurprising. It’s as bad as you’d expect it to be. What was surprising was how nice the club was. We were able to sit at a booth and have beers without getting in too much trouble (which was a relief for me). There were couples enjoying a night out and well-kept looking patrons — not the unsavory, sweatpant wearing, sex-tourist slobs I was expecting (I’m sure it’s a different scene at the smaller, seedier clubs in the area). But all in all, it was fun. Until we left…

I had read some horror stories and received some advice before coming down to Tijuana. The general consensus was, don’t be out late by yourself and stick to the main streets. Well upon leaving, the person leading the group thought, “Oh! There will be more pickpockets on the main street. We’ll take the side street back. It's faster anyways.”

We got a block over before I realized the route we were taking. Before I had a chance to object, a National Guard truck, rotating turret and all, made a quick u-turn to stop next to us. The armed security forces hopped out of the truck before it came to a complete stop 😬…

I was told that the local police are not a problem, but hired security and the National Guard (the corrupt ones anyway) have been known to shake down tourists walking down the less trafficked streets — just like us.

Nothing happened luckily, we ignored the “hey, hey, come here”-s and kept walking. They didn’t pursue us and we got back to a busy street. The general consensus of the group was that we almost got robbed. 

It’s All Worth It

Don’t be afraid to visit Tijuana. In fact, I encourage everyone to walk across the border and check it out. If you’re not dumb, you’ll be safe. And the reward of tacos is well-worth the heightened sense of danger.

Tacos El Franc, featured in Netflix’s Tacos Chronicles, is hands down one of the best foods I’ve ever had. Fresh tortilla, beans, asada, guac…holy shit so good. I sat at the bar, gorged myself, and soaked in the open-kitchen experience; a well-oiled machine deserving its own praise separate from the quality of the food. The chef in front of me was recounting the recent World Cup games, shouting with servers, and checking in on me; asking “uno más?” but like he had already decided I was getting uno más. At no point did hands stop moving. It’s a never ending, taco-filling assembly line.

I’ve become the Tacos El Franc shill at the hostel now. I’m going back today with a new traveler from Germany and I will go back tomorrow as a last hurrah before heading back to San Diego for a couple days.

Up Next

I’ll be crossing back into Tijuana later this week. Then onwards to Rosarito and Ensenada. Part of this first trip was just to get my toes wet and ease my way into the culture shock. In Ensenada, my main goal is to cram-study Spanish vocabulary and practice common phrases before my tour continues in Spain. And tomorrow I have another call regarding freelance. Assuming that goes well, the rest of my time in North America is going to be busy.

I don’t have plans following my tour of the Iberian Peninsula — other than spending some time with family (you’re welcome, mom) — but these past couple days have opened me up to the idea of visiting Tijuana again, stuffing my face with tacos, and then hopping on a cheap flight to Mexico City to explore more of country.

Options. Options. Options. If it doesn’t happen next year, it’ll happen eventually.

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Quick shout out to those who have been reading and sharing my ramblings. The fact that anyone subscribed blows me away. Thank you :)

Adiós, amigos!