Waking up in Mexico

You know those mythical stories about going out for the night and waking up in Mexico?

Well that happened to me last weekend.

It started with a casual Friday night catch up at renown burger joint Father Office's in Santa Monica. I was taking my friend Alice from Amsterdam to enjoy the famous succulent patties and cleansing ales.  We were joined by another friend Jordan who was in town from NZ pitching a movie. Next thing another friend Rees turned up. Rees had been in LA for over a year and considers himself a bit of a local now.

Maybe it was the excitement of Friday night as he enthusiastically ran us through his week at work, with a mischievous smile present throughout. When Alice suggested a round of tequila shots, Rees joked we just go to Mexico to have one. 'It is only an hour and half drive after all?' he toyed with us. Jordan and Alice, both visitors to town with no real plans for the coming days were quick to sign up. His off-the-cuff idea that had suddenly become a real option.

I was not interested in going to Mexico. I had a pool party to attend the next day, then was moving into a new flat on Sunday. I was in a good routine with fitness, life admin of settling into LA. But how often do you get the chance to go to Mexico? After dragging my heels for the next 20 minutes while my comrades persuaded me, I soon too caved in.

We spent the next hour running around the westside to pick up basic supplies from each others homes. Passports, swimming attire and flip flops were bundled into backpacks. It was after midnight that we set off on the 405 south towards San Diego.

About 4am our driver Rees started hitting the wall. He finally conceeded that the drive was longer that 1.5 hrs and then admitted that the border didn't open until 6am. We would have to kill some time. It was now my time to take over leadership of this mission I had hours early tried to avoid.  I suggested we call into Denny's for a pit stop. I avoided any eye contact with the late night diners, not wanting to align myself with any creatures that exist at Denny's off the freeway in the early hours of Saturday morning.  We had a quick regroup and it was decided to find a room for the night. The Best Western was not the most glamourous digs but served a purpose and provided a chance to refresh and recharge.

We were up mid morning and back on the road towards the border. It seemed like a lifetime ago that this random crew had all met at Father's Office to toast the weekend. Soon we were in the tight traffic but no hold ups crossing the border at Tijuana. Our adventure had begun.

Hunger was kicking in as we drove past numerous taco shacks and markets but nothing that looked particularly accommodating.  I'm not sure what were looking for - Taco Bell? The highway soon turned inland so we hugged the mountains high up on dusty rugged, terrain. You can see why the US Army fought tooth and nail for the California state but stopped after hitting the Rio Grande, seeing little value in the barren lands below the future border.

Soon we arrived in the port town of Ensanade about 90 mins south of the border.  By this time we were clearly ravenous and thirsty.  It was here were were able to strip off and have a quick snack and mohjito by a resort pool. Rooms were fully booked so we ventured into town and found the St Nicholas resort. A lazy day by the pool ensued. Euro beats simmered underneath as a spring-break type crowd frolicked in the water. I wouldn't have want to be anywhere else as we sent pictures to jealous friends and family confirming yes we were actually in Mexico!

After a late afternoon snooze we showered up and hit the main strip. It reminded me of nights out in Thailand a little - big thumping clubs with Reggaeton music, local hustlers peddling homemade tequila, street merchants pointing and proding us towards dated discoteques. We found a little Tacqueria Bar and parked up ordering a decent serving of tacos. The food was simple - juicy beef sprinkled with fresh salsa, home-made, bearing various degrees of heat.  Portly waiters who were only too happy to pour shots of tequila and deliver us ice cold Pacficos. This was Mexico.

  

Arising Sunday Rees decided he would head back to LA and the three of us decided to stay south of the border.  After an interesting breakfast of waffles - both sweet and savoury - served possibly with the worst customer service I had come across, it was time to hit the markets. Jordan stocked up on full cowboy attire, complete with gun holster. Alice admired the mexican-spun bags and other nick nacks for friends in LA, the ones she had discarded for our fine company. I found a cute litte Mexican mamacita dress for my niece Beth. We wandered the quaint port town, sampling refreshing coconut water along with the salty and sour cerveche from a bustling cart surrounded by tourists and locals alike.

After some more pool time it was back out to grab some dinner and another squeeze of the nightlife. Fresh guacamole and crisp corn chips, with crunchy fish tacos set us up for more Doc Equis. Then to famous saloon bar 'Hussongs' which claims to have invented the margarita back in the 1930's. Sawdust on the floor, buckets of beer on the tables - this was the real deal. A traditional mari-archi band thumped loudly from rusty, worn instruments. I can't think of a more iconic and original bar. It was like you were back in the turn of century with your horse tied up outside ready for a gun fight with locals loitering in the dark, dusty alleys.

We found a Margarita bar, smoked cigars and slowly shoot tequila until we all had a warm glow. Alice as hitting her straps and took over leadership that night, making the most of her spring holiday before returning to. She proceeded to get a sleeve of Day of the Dead-style tattoos which actually quite suited her. Avoiding any sort of trouble on the seedy streets we made it back to our accommodation in one piece.

Next morning we dragged ourselves out for more shopping and breakfast at 'Gringo Corner' before making the long journey back to LA. I dozed off to sleep on the bus as 'Twilight - Breaking Dawn' (in Spanish subtitles nonetheless) blared in front of me. We departed the bus in Tijuana and crossed through with the throngs of Mexicans carrying bags of local fare. After a hour in line we reached the US Border Control who grumpily asked what I was carrying back across the border. The Cuban cigars in my bag niggled my conscience like a stone in my shoe. But I smiled and answered politely before being was ushered through the border. The American side appeared pristine and glistened with the sparkly glow of a Hollywood smile. Ting! Shiny trams, palm trees and McDonalds but 50 meters from the border reminded me we were back in the safe hands of the U S of A.

The tram took us San Diego and after a quick beer in the polished Gaslamp District we were on the train to LA. The three-hour trip snaked its way towards downtown LA, arriving just before midnight. Up to 10 years ago you probably wouldn't be caught waiting outside Union Station in the middle of the night but the city has re-gentrified this part of town. We said our goodbyes as I uber-ed back to the western beaches to begin a new chapter moving into my flat in Venice.

I was glad I made the decision to make a mercy dash to the border. So many laughs, shared with an inquisitive bunch of friends.  Food fresh from the basket of its conception. Served by generous hosts with warm hearts, perhaps due to copious tequila shots? Life is about those random moments I'm glad I took that leap of faith. A great cast, with characters not out of place in a movie.

Now theres an idea...

#LIFE