Getting around in Tijuana: my experience in a Mexican border city
Prologue
But the border was not there, the coastline and its flow had no interruptions, waves did not crash on large metal bars. I felt strange, a feeling of emptiness, as if I lacked the fence to feel that the landscape was complete.
On December 2018, I visited a beach popularly known as “Hacienda de Cabañas” in the state of Guerrero, in southern Mexico. I had not visited the country’s southern beaches for several months, since I was busy attending my academic duties in the city of Tijuana.
That morning of clear skies and radiant sun, I stood in front of the sea, felt the warm sand under my feet, watched how some big waves crashed on the shore, and felt the freshness of sea breeze. I looked to my right side hoping to see the fence, the line, the border splitting the sea in half, as it is in Playas de Tijuana.
Many myths exist around Tijuana, a city located in Mexico northern border region, in the state of Baja California.
But the border was not there, the coastline and its flow had no interruptions, waves did not crash on large metal bars. I felt strange, a feeling of emptiness, as if I lacked the fence to feel that the landscape was complete. On that Guerrero beach, I became aware for the first time since my arrival to Tijuana, in 2018, that I had internalized the border.
Many myths exist around Tijuana, a city located in Mexico northern border region, in the state of Baja California. With a total population of 1,641,580 inhabitants, this city is characterized by being a cultural melting pot and a crossroads space due to its close geographical, economic and cultural relationship with the city of San Diego, California, USA.
Founded in 1889, Rancho de la Tía Juana (as Tijuana was formerly known before it grew enough to be properly called a town or city) has a young history compared to other major cities in the country like Mexico City, Guadalajara, Monterrey, or Puebla. However, its rapid economic and demographic growth, as well as its proximity to the border, have now made it the most representative city of migration phenomena in Mexico.
The first time I visited Tijuana in June 2016, it seemed like a somewhat inhospitable and dusty city stranded in the middle of the desert, with long and lonely roads framed in an arid landscape with dry bushes in the background. Although, I have never been related to this type of landscape, the city was an attractive place to live for me, especially because of its proximity to the United States and the possibility of leading a cross-border life.
On August 2018, I returned to Tijuana from Mexico City, my place of residence for the past eight years. In contrast to Tijuana, inhabiting Mexico City is an experience in itself, one that conditions those who commute their streets on a daily basis. Traffic, public transport, the subway, street vendors, the bustle, overcrowding, long distances, the danger of being deprived of personal belongings, fear of the other, the hurried walking of people when time is getting short; anonymity. This undoubtedly influenced my perception of Tijuana’s space once I moved there to start my graduate studies.
Human beings need physical space to perpetuate their existence and to reproduce their diverse lifestyles, habits, customs, and culture.
It is interesting to say that both, my life experience in Mexico City and my Guerrerean origin, somehow served as a background for the spatial reading I would make of Tijuana. Coming originally from the southern Mexican state of Guerrero I grew up somehow always close to the sea. The gigantic greenish mountains of the Sierra Madre del Sur (a mountain range in southern Mexico) surrounding my hometown, had been engraved in my memories. In contrast, Mexico City building’s narrowness, being forced to experience long journeys in the subway, the constant body-to-body contact while moving around in the city, and the little space for mobility, all conditioned my experiencing of overly dense metropolises.
Human beings need physical space to perpetuate their existence and to reproduce their diverse lifestyles, habits, customs, and culture. At the same time, space, as our human species conceives and inhabits it, is mediated and constructed by our body, our senses, our emotions, our memories and our cognitive ability to create meaning.
In this series upcoming articles, I will talk about how I lived space in Tijuana, my feeling of displacement, and my interaction with both local landscape and the border. Also, we will discuss how, through my senses and past memories, I gave meaning to my life experiences in this border city.
This is the first part of a series of articles about my experience in Tijuana.
