A new year brings a new country. January of 2008 saw me taking my second nervous bus ride across the Mexican border, and 2009 saw me stay just a bit longer and thus experience some particular foibles. After a rather tiring journey to Orange County on Wednesday January 28th (Niagara –> Buffalo –> Chicago –> Denver–> OC), I was eagerly anticipating our weekend Mexican adventure with some friends – Duke, Klaus, and Adrienne.
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I had found a tour that looked promising, and persuaded some friends to join on this ill-researched adventure. Saturday morning, we arrived at our pickup point but there was no bus waiting. Observing that we were in a plaza filled with Asian marts, and Falun Gong practitioners were delightfully engaging in their practice in the parking lot, the thought came to mind: “Are we in the right place?” Finally, the lady Adrienne received a call from our panicked tour guide wondering where we were. Turns out the bus waited on the other side of the plaza, as opposed to the location that our e-tickets specified, and yet we were scolded like naughty school children. We were on the Chinese tour bus (Asia America tours) – the only non-Chinese speaking folks on the bus. Considering the fact that most of the banter was done in Mandarin, I think they enjoyed laughing at us. There were constant reminders of the importance of being on time, likely pointed at us.
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All I wanted to do was sleep, but our guide prattled on and on about things I didn’t understand, and the things I could follow were littered with historical fallacies and misinformation. It was also gently enforced that no-one use the bathroom on the bus unless it was an emergency. Despite the “lateness” of us silly English speakers, we made our cruise in San Diego and were chortled at by the bartender, who served us up a round of cheap mimosas. Near the border, we stopped at one of the worst Chinese buffet restaurants I’ve ever been to – falling possibly at #3, behind Sudbury and Timmins. Following this, we advanced towards the largest US international border and made our way down to Ensenada. At every opportunity, feeling very much like bad school children, we snuck away from the group to grab a cocktail and some silence.
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After arriving at our hotel – and being reminded by our guide that rooms starting with 1 were on the 1st floor, etc. (because really, none of us have stayed in a hotel before!) we went out on the town. Finding vegetarian choices was tricky, finding vegan options would have been downright impossible. Cheese quesadillas and margueritas became my staple, in a land rich with beef tacos, lobster, Tecate, and Dos Equis. We concluded our evening at a local karaoke bar, met some locals, and enjoyed Klaus’ haunting rendition of Whitney Houston’s “Hero” (which, I might add, was completely accidental). On the way back to the hotel, we grabbed a 12 of Tecate and some candy (which I discarded as it turned out to be some sort of fruit floating in liquid), and waited in anguish until our 6:30 am wake up call.
In the am, a bunch of crusty folks piled back onto the bus. The beer was abandoned (call it a tip for the staff) and we headed to Rosarito for breakfast for yet another all-you-can-eat buffet that I couldn’t eat. Duke attempted to explain to our server that I was a vegetarian – although I think ht actually called me a vegetable – and nodding, the server pointed me to the selection of lobster, crab, and other seafood. *knocks head* After leaving the restaurant, we were given some freedom at the gorgeous Rosarito Beach Hotel, did a bit of shopping, and walked on the beautiful beach. Back on the bus, we picked up some guitaristas who entertained us with music between Rosarito and Tijuana, much to the delight of the entire bus who sang and clapped along. It was extremely surreal. In TJ, one of the security folks at customs looked at us, chucked, and asked me jokingly if we arrived on the wrong bus. Mock serious, I answered yes, and he laughed harder. It was the easiest border crossing in history – no words, no questions, just a passport scan.
Back safely in the US, we were stuffed back onto the bus and taken to Coronado Island, which was simply exquisite. The hotel, built in the 1800s, reminded me very much of the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island. We had a brief “family meeting” and decided we would leave the tour group in San Diego – just the idea of more hours of banter we didn’t understand, and another buffet dinner was enough to cause us to cringe. Our bus driver was not thrilled we were leaving, and it turned out that a certain amount of tip was expected for both the driver and the tour guide which we paid to escape. We dined at a Mexican joint in Old Town San Diego, where the margueritas had a tequila level depending on how much the server liked us. Well, she liked us! When we finally scraped ourselves out of there, we took a trolley to the Amtrak station, and bought train tickets back to Irvine. After a near 2 mile walk from the station, we were back.
Beautiful Places
Ensenada, Mexico
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Ensenada, Mexico
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Rosarito Beach, Mexico
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Coronado Island, California
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