Round and round

So I left the country--which is a very fancy (indeed) way of saying I went to TJ (Tijuana, for those of you not in the know).

For some strange reason, I love the place. It is a dirty, messy, uncouth place--and I love it.

I got some coffee; I got a book; I saw a movie; I went to the mall. I didn't do anything there that I could not have done here just as well. I saw not a single face I could not just as easily have seen doing the same things here in Los Angeles. They who live there do not speak differently.

And yet...

There is something about those people I like. I am not Mexican; I am not American. And while I love living here, I think I might love living there just as much. I know I should expect no less--many of my friends are Mexican, if anything as pragmatic as anyone else up north, if not more.

I guess I like the change that comes from crossing an arbitrary line and seeing a world so different and yet (a cliche i shan't avoid) so similar.

I can only hope one day something similar will happen other places, where the lines are harder to cross, and the fee for crossing is often someone's life. They who are not welcome are yet welcoming--for the subtle rejection of everything about them can be seen crossing back north. They who are not hated (that takes too much energy) but just belittled and disdained, will still smile and greet and while it's true many will as soon pick your pocket, most won't--and in the end i think fewer will there than here--and more honestly even then.

I have this picture in my head of a democracy tyrannically lording over the weaker, less educated, just-plain-not-as-lucky neighbors, controlling them with guns and money. It happens, you know. I was there just this past Saturday. And though it may not seem to be going on now, the now there is has come of many thens when it did happen--to a nation's shame and another's anger.

And still, I see this and see three steps to peace that I can only pray others will take before more of their children die...

I guess it's weird that I hope others can have this no-man's-land, with its own share of crime, perhaps, but mostly carefreeness. This, too, is too simplistic and forgets the suffering many live there. I won't go into too much detail, this mention of it shall be enough.

I will say this: one day, my mother and I will have to go and finally have our $200 tacos.

She doesn't read this--but if she did, she would smile.