Gary BUTTERWORTH Online

Stratford, NJ, USA 

Including travel time, my sports daytrip to Tijuana, Baja California, Mexico, only took about 13 hours of my 6.5 day trip to the West Coast.  Why, then, does this little jaunt get a post almost as long as my recap of the entire rest of the trip?

Well, as a sports fan, a stadium nut, an international relations geek, someone who likes to try local food, and a public transportation afficianado, I was truly in my element the whole time.  So, I’ve got a lot to talk about!

(And the fact that there is next to nothing on the Internet about spectator sports in Tijuana just encourages me to write even more!)

Trip to the border

If you read my recap of the rest of the trip, then you’ll know that the night before my daytrip to Tijuana was one of the more eventful ones of the trip (it was the night we went bar-hopping).  Even still, I got up before my alarm went off.  I was a little bit groggy, but I was excited!  After all, it’s not every day you get to go to a new country and see soccer and baseball, not to mention experience a new culture.

Dan had schoolwork to do on Sunday morning; Emily and Matt were both lukewarm on going.  They didn’t particularly want to do go, but were a little worried about me going alone.  I really didn’t want to drag them along if they didn’t want to go, and I figured they were tired from the night before, so I didn’t press them to come along.  Despite Tijuana’s reputation, I figured I’d be able to blend in pretty well, and I was fairly confident that I’d be fine.

Dan’s house is only about 20 miles north of the border, but, by public transportation, the trip down there takes close to two hours.  So, I got up, stopped off for a Red Bull, and walked the 10 minutes to the San Diego State University Transit Center, where I picked up the San Diego Trolley light rail (like the RiverLine, for my fellow South Jerseyans).

Like I used to do in DC, I read the timetables and timed leaving the house so that the train would be waiting for me when I got to to the station, and, sure enough, it was.  So, I bought my ticket and hopped on.

The San Diego Trolley, like many light rail systems, runs largely on the honor system.  You buy your ticket before you board, and you are required to show it to a ticket inspector if asked.  On my ride down south, I spotted three ticket inspectors, but none of them actually checked tickets.  In fact, it looked like one was going to start, only to be called back by her partner!

A round-trip ticket from SDSU to the border was $6.  I think I could have bought a daily pass for only $5, but I was a little confused about that.
There was also a city bus connection that would have taken me to the border in about the same amount of time, but, given a choice, I generally prefer trying out rail transit systems.

As I said, the ride south was kind of long.  I originally planned on making two trips down there, but, given the travel time involved, I heeded Dan’s advice and just made it one long day.  After all, the 20-mile trip rail trip alone took nearly 90 minutes (for the DC-crowd, I’d say this trip is about the equivalent of taking the Metro from Old Town Alexandria to Silver Spring).  It’s not something you’d want to do every day, but I actually enjoyed it.
The trains were clean, comfortable, safe, and well-coordinated; I had to make a connection to the blue line at Old Town San Diego, and the next train was waiting right there on the next track over!

Also, for a tourist, the ride itself was quite scenic.
I had nice views of some of California’s famous freeways, hills, coast, and other areas of interest. 
In the center of downtown, the train makes a lot of stops, which is a little annoying, but which also gives a nice tour.  You have nice views of Petco Park, Santa Fe depot, and just the city itself.

South of downtown, things speed up a little bit, and you also get even more interesting scenery out your window.

I thought the sign at this stop was interesting:

As I’ve mentioned before, it’s the most mundane things that I often think are the most interesting when I visit a new place.  Frequently, signs, however mundane, are interesting to me.

When I think “Pacific Fleet,” the first thing that comes to my mind is “Pearl Harbor.” 
But in reality, San Diego is home to 1/3 of the US Navy’s Pacific Fleet today.
In fact, I wasn’t really aware of this until I started planning my trip, but, until a decade or so ago, San Diego had a reputation as being mostly a “military town.”  Now, it has grown in size to one of the 10 largest cities in the country, and it is famous for other things, too, but the military still plays a very important role here.

Anyway, I thought it was cool to see a station named “Pacific Fleet,” as well as to see a sign announcing that the blue line terminates at the border.

Just south of the Pacific Fleet station were some more reminders of the military presence here.

I want to say these junk boats are of WWII vintage, but I’m probably wrong.  Still, it’s an interesting thing to see along the road tracks.

With the interesting scenery, the trip went by pretty quickly, and soon enough I was at the terminus station of San Ysidro (“San Ih-SEE-dro”; I butchered the pronunciation).

Crossing into Mexico

At noon on a Sunday, there weren’t a heck of a lot of people on the trolley. 
I found the signs to the border post a little bit confusing (separate routes for cars, bikes, and pedestrians weren’t marked all that clearly), so I decided that it would be a good idea to just follow the dozen or so Spanish-speaking people who also got off at the last stop. 
I figured they might be heading south to visit friends or head home.

Unfortunately, this was a bad idea, since they just lead me to some outlet stores.

It was a bit frustrating; I spent 20 minutes in sight of Mexico but searching for the crossing.  (Notice the separation barrier walls behind the parking lot in the photo below.  Mexico is behind them).

Eventually, I found my way.

First, I passed through a turnstile (believe it or not, this is the most stringent exit control I’ve ever seen from the US) into the neutral zone.

It was just a few feet more to the actual border.

The United States of Mexico and the United States of America.

Just across the border, there is a small building with some modest offices.
The first one is immigration.  So, being the nerd that I am, I stuck my head in, hoping to get my passport stamped.  However, no one was even in the office.

(I had read that it’s rare, but possible, to get a Mexican entry stamp at the border if you nicely ask the right guy.  I’ll admit that I wanted it mostly as a souvenir, but honestly, if you plan on obeying all of the laws when you visit a foreign country, it’s always a good idea to get an entry stamp and an exit stamp.  It’s generally not a big deal, but it can be.  If I were planning on crossing at this same border post, flying elsewhere in Mexico, then driving into the countryside, the fact that there was no one in immigration could have really screwed me over, as I would have needed a tourist card.  Even if I got stopped in Tijuana, a crooked cop could claim that I had overstayed my visa-free period, and I wouldn’t have anything on me to contradict him.)

There was also a tourist information office and a currency exchange.
Since I was in a bit of a hurry (the soccer game started at 1pm, and, thanks to not being able to find the border post, it was already 12:30), I changed $40 USD to pesos right there rather than shopping around for better rates.  I’m not sure what rate I got, but it wasn’t terrible, and at least I paid no commission.
(I had heard that, unlike in most countries, you can get a better price at many places by paying in USD rather than the local currency.  It sounded unusual, and, since I wasn’t really going to be on the tourist track, I thought it was better to change some money.  More on that later.)

After passing the offices, I walked a few more feet, went through another one-way turnstile, and I was really in Mexico!

Soccer Game: Club Tijuana Xoloitzcuintles de Caliente at Unidad Deportiva CREA

Right after you go through the Mexican turnstyle, you encounter an absolute sea of yellow cabs.   

Mexico was the 14th country I had ever visited and, truth be told, I was just a a bit nervous.  It has a reputation for being dirty, dangerous, and just unnerving.  I had heard that you essentially get assaulted by vendors from the moment you enter the country.

The cab drivers certainly made their presence known, and I’d say they were assertive, but not aggressive.  I avoided eye contact, and just gave a firm “no, gracias!” to whomever approached me.  None of the drivers gave me any problems.

I had also heard that the red-and-white taxi libres charge lower rates than the yellow cabs, and that every few yards from the border, the rates go down.  So, that’s why I was ignoring most of the taxi drivers.  Unfortunately, without having a lot of time to spare before the soccer game, I had to give up trying to find a Taxi Libre.  Instead, I just walked 200 yards or so south and grabbed a yellow cab. 

I’m not sure if I should have walked farther or how good of a rate I got, but the taxi driver quoted me a rate of 8 USD to the soccer stadium at Unidad Deportiva CREA, and I was fine with that, especially considering the guy I got.

On the 10 minute ride to the stadium, while passing billboards for the baseball and soccer teams that I would soon be watching, we had a nice talk about sports and Tijuana.  He was a very nice guy, and he told me he liked my plan for seeing two games in one day.  He spoke English admirably, and was very helpful: even though he drove a yellow cab, he recommended that I take the red-and-white taxi libres whenever possible, and he also told me that I would enjoy the baseball game, and that I would have no trouble finding a taxi home after it.  (This was my biggest worry about my day).  As a big baseball fan himself, he seemed genuinely happy to have me visiting.

About 10 enjoyable minutes later, I arrived safely at the soccer stadium.

At first, I was a little confused about where to buy my ticket–I saw the taquilla, or ticket booth, right away, but, not knowing that word, I initially confused it with a taqueria, or taco stand.  LOL!
But, a quick “bolotos…donde esta?” and someone pointed me back in the right direction.

My general admission ticket for the concrete bleachers cost me 100 Mexican Pesos–about USD 9.50.

Considering the quality of play, and the quality of the stadium, I thought this was overpriced.  To be completely honest, neither were very good.

That is NOT to say that I didn’t have a good time. 
I enjoyed the game and the experience tremendously!

Here are some fans coming into the stadium by the main entrance:

They were handing out ThunderStix as you walked in, but they didn’t seem too too popular.

Mexican baseball teams are known for having unusual names, like the Tomato-Growers and the Lobstermen.  Even though this was a soccer game, the home team did indeed have an interesting name: Club Tijuana Xoloitzcuintles de Caliente, which means “Hot’s Club Tijuana Hairless Dogs.”  (“Caliente,” or “Hot,” is the company that owns the team, as well as TJ’s famous dog racing track.)

The Xolos were playing Monarcas Morelia A in the clausura of Mexico’s FMF Primera Division A, which is the second-highest level of professional soccer (futbol). 
It’s kind of an interesting league; about half of the teams, like Monarcas Morelia A, are reserve teams–essentially minor league teams for the bigger clubs’ back-up players.  Other teams, like Club Tijuana Xolos, are independent teams that are trying, against all odds, to qualify to play in Mexico’s top soccer league.

This is Tijuana’s third team in as many years–the Dorados and the Gallos are no more.  Nor are any of the other teams that Tijuana has fielded at this level in the past 15 years.  I’m kind of surprised by this.  While many people think of Tijuana as simply a border town where Americans go to stock up on duty-free booze, Tijuana has grown to become one of Mexico’s largest cities, and it boasts large numbers migrants from all across Mexico.

Even for a relatively low-caliber game, the local fans were great about supporting their team.  To me, it didn’t feel like this was a city who would have to worry about a team leaving town.

The grandstand, with an interesting cityscape:

They aren’t really too active in this picture, but this is La Massacre, Club Tijuana’s singing, drumming fan club (I think they are an example of a pourra, a barra-brava, and/or an ultra group.  I don’t really know the differences, if there are any, but they are a good example of a rowdy-ish section that exists in sports almost everywhere but the USA and Canada.)

I had heard that it’s not a good idea to get near the barras in Latin America unless you really know what you are doing, but, after sizing them up, I’m pretty sure that rule applies mostly to big-time matches between sides like Club America and Pumas, not minor league matches played in front of 4000 fans.  Aside from the fact that their area smelled of marijuana, they seemed pretty harmless, so I stood on the very outside of their group for the first half.  They had some songs that I had never heard before, and I enjoyed them.
I especially admire the fact that they were so boisterous on a Sunday morning at a match that just wasn’t all that good.

Soon enough, halftime came, I walked around a little bit.
Here’s the vending area under the stands:

Like I said, this is a minor league, and it certainly had a small-time feel to it.  While I’m probably in the minority, this is something I really enjoy. 

The only real fault I have about the whole minor-league aspect of it is that, unlike in the US, this meant it was exceedingly difficult to find information about the game.  Club TJ has virtually no web-presence.  It took me hours of googling to find out their schedule, and I finally had to post a message on BigSoccer to find out what time the game was.

Behind that far set of stairs was the souvenir table, where I bought a jersey!

Interesting story about the jersey…I asked, in Spanish, how much it cost.  I didn’t really understand his answer, so I pulled out my little notebook (I’ve found that it’s extremely useful to carry around a tiny, soft bound notebook when you’re travelling in an area in which you don’t speak the language), and asked the guy to please write down how much it cost.  At that point, he started speaking to me in English.  He told me the price was 20 US Dollars, or 280 Mexican Pesos.  The exchange rate he was offering was simply incredible; 280 MXN is about 25.50 in USD!  At that point, I started kicking myself for not keeping more US Dollars.  I could have saved $5.50!
Still, $25.50 is an excellent price for a soccer jersey, so I was happy with my souvenir.  It’s a great quality, and I think it might be the exact same one the players wear.  It has all of the patches and everything.

I put it on almost immediately.  Someone said something to me while I was putting it on, but I didn’t understand.  I love it when random people start talking to me in the local language in new cities; it must mean I look like I fit in!

After that, I used the bathroom (the public restrooms in Mexico weren’t nearly as bad as I had imagined), then I went back to the seating area, which, to my surprise, was still mostly full.

The fans in Tijuana seemed to LOVE the mascots.
I couldn’t believe that all of these fans, below, stayed in their seats at halftime to watch the mascots.  (Or maybe it was to watch the half-naked Tecate Beer cheerleaders).

(Generally, I’m not a big fan of cheerleaders, but the Tecate girls did a great job at adding to the experience while still being unobtrusive).

I popped back into the stands, where I watched some of the half-time show, but then I went and bought a taco.

Not only was the probably the best stadium food that I had ever had, not only was this the best taco that I had ever had, but it may have been the best food I had ever had!
Words can’t describe it.  It didn’t really fit the stereotype Americans have of Mexican food: there was no cheese, no red salsa, and it wasn’t all that spicy (granted, I have a fairly high tolerance for spicy food), but it was better than I ever could have imagined.  Grilled chicken, fresh guacamole, cilantro, and onions!

I was a little confused about paying.  Believe it or not, paying for things was probably the most difficult part of my time in Mexico.

I admit that this isn’t saying much, but I speak substantially more Spanish than I do, say, Polish (I have been doing Pimsleur Spanish for about a month, and it’s doing an excellent job.  My local library has free downloads of the course!).  Yet, I had more difficulty paying for things in Mexico than I did in Poland.  I think this is mostly because, here, prices rarely seemed to be marked.  Aside from a few food stands at the baseball game, nothing had a price tag!
Still, I made out ok.  I’ll keep working on my Spanish and I’ll especially try to improve my counting.  It sounds funny, but basically all I can do in German is count, and this has proved extremely useful–certainly more useful than actually trying to learn basic Spanish.
 

After I got my taco, I ordered a soda from one of the vendors in the stands.  (They walk around and take orders, waitress-style).  After my first sip, I realized that I forgot to ask for it with no ice, and this made me a little nervous.  I only drank about half of it, and I strained the ice out with my teeth.  Then I realized that I rinsed my hands with tap water in the bathroom before eating finger-food, and I got even more nervous.

Fortunately, Montezuma had no revenge.

For the second half, rather than standing behind the die-hards, I found an empty corner and just relaxed all by myself. 

The second half was better than the first, and Tijuana won 4-3.

After the game, the fans hung around for a while to watch the Tecate beer girls dance to a live (norteno?) band.  It was a fun end to a fun game.

Even with mediocre soccer and a sub-par facility, I had a wonderful time.
However, I have to admit, unforunately Tijuana will never host soccer above this level without a new stadium. 

I love stadiums, and I am hardly a snob.  But, as much as I liked it, objectively, this one really wasn’t very good.  There was no scoreboard at all, the field is surrounded by an athletic track, and, most unfortunately, telephone poles/light staunchions immeditely in front of the grandstand obstruct the view.
It would be great for soccer in both the US AND Mexico if Tijuana could move up. 
The game I saw seemed to be exclusively a Mexican affair.  But imagine how many Americans would head down when a team like Chivas comes to town!  Unfortunately, I just don’t see it happening.  Hopefully the Xolos will hang around longer than their predecessors, though.

While the match I saw isn’t even close to MLS in terms of quality, more Americans should make the trip down just for the experience. 

Downtown: “The Real Tijuana?”

After the soccer game let out, I had nearly two hours to kill before the baseball game.

There were some busses picking up fans at the stadium for around 6 pesos.  I assumed they were going downtown, but without a lot of spare time, I decided that hopping on and finding out would be a bad idea.  So, I flagged down a red taxi libre.

Having bought my jersey, and having intentionally brought very little with me (I mentioned that you hear horror stories about this town), I was a little short on Mexican cash, and I didn’t have all that much more of the US variety.  So, I managed to choke out a semi-coherent Spanish paragraph to make sure I could get where I was going:

“Hola, senor.  No tengo pesos.  Tengo dolares.  ¿ Esta bien ?”
“Si, si.”

He took US Dollars.

So, I asked him to take me to Avenida Revolucion.
I just couldn’t help it.

Revolucion is the main tourist drag in Tijuana.  It has a Hard Rock Café.  It doesn’t get much more touristy than that.

Revolucion is, for millions of Americans, the only concept of “abroad” they will ever have. 

Revolucion is a part of town that, I’ve read, Mexicans never visit.

Revolucion is also, not surprisingly, why many people hate Tijuana. 
Before I went, I had read that it was dirty, crowded, dangerous, overpriced, and filled with overly-aggressive merchants and strip-club owners who will stop at nothing to get you into their club or look at their low-quality knock-off souvenirs.
(I had read that about about Avenida Revolucion, but I had seen it extrapolated to the whole country).

In short, I had read that it has virtually no redeeming qualities.

But I couldn’t help myself. 

In my defense, I figured it would probably be a good place to find an ATM, and it was.  I  had also read that you needn’t go more than 2 blocks off of Revolucion to find “the real Tijuana.”  And, part of me was morbidly curious.  Very occasionally, tourist strips can be fun.  Even if this one wasn’t, I wanted to see the only “Mexico” that so many of my countrymen know.

It wasn’t that bad.

I was approached by a few club owners, who really were kind of pushy.  They kind of reminded me of the guys that I ran into along the Pigalle in Paris (another place that I visited against my better judgement, just out of curiousity).  But a firm “no, gracias!” along with a total lack of eye-contact seemed to serve me well enough.
Also, since I was back within US Verizon cell-phone range, I used my phone to check in with Dan, and that might have helped keep people at bay.
(In hindsight, I guess it could have done the opposite.  I saw surprisingly few cell phones in the city).

I stuck my head in one souvenir shop, and the guy was fairly merciless.  I’m not sure if it’s because I low-balled too much, or because I was wearing a Club Tijuana jersey and therefore looked at least a little savvy, or simply because I’m too good, but the merchant didn’t even bother to haggle with me.  I found some legitimate faults with the merchandise, offered $5 for a souvenir, expecting him to haggle upwards, but he did nothing of the sort.  He let me leave.  I eventually found the same thing about 5 blocks away for $8, and I’m sure I could have haggled down a bit. 

Like I said, I had read that you only need to walk a block or so off of Revolucion to get a whole different experience.  Overall, I would say that that was true.

But even on Revolucion, I think I saw more Mexican-looking people than gringos.
Maybe that’s just because I visited on a Sunday afternoon?

I just did some strolling.

Outside of Mercada La Voz del Pueblo, there was a boxing ring set up with two little kids slugging it out.

I’m pretty sure this was still on Revolucion, but the crowd looked pretty Mexican.

From there, I just wandered some more.

It’s kind of funny.  Some people will tell you that “The Real Mexico” simply does not exist in Tijuana.  They’ll say that the whole city exists solely for Americans heading south for a day, and for Mexicans hoping to head north for a longer stay.

Others will tell you that, while Tijuana might not be a stereotypically colonial city, “The Real Mexico” thrives just a block or so off of the main tourist drag.

While I admittedly don’t know a heck of a lot about Mexico, I am partial to the second viewpoint.

Off of Revolucion, I turned onto 2nd Avenue; I had heard that there was a nice market (Mercado Popo) there that tourists rarely visit. 

I wasn’t sure which way down 2nd Popo was, so I just picked left. 
I guess I went the wrong direction, because I never did find that particular market, but it wasn’t a big deal at all.  I only had 45 minutes or so anyway, and I was happy just wandering down the crowded streets.

One of my favorite things about Tijuana was that, even on a Sunday afternoon in a strongly Catholic country, the city felt alive!

There were merchants everywhere–in storefronts, in the markets, on the sidewalks, and in the backs of vans.  Although I’m not entirely positive, the fact that I didn’t see much white skin nor did I hear any English makes me think that I was in a local part of town.

Every once in a while, someone would approach me: “¿ Comer ?”  (“Eat?”)
But here, people weren’t remotely aggressive.

In a (very good) way, Tijuana reminded me of Bratislava, Slovakia. 
While people in San Diego (or Vienna) might think of it just as a less-developed place where their TVs (or cars) are made and where they might occasionally visit for bargains, the reality is that there is a real city here, with its own culture and with a vibrancy and an entrepreneurial spirit that gives me a strong optimism about its future. 

The commercial spirit was even on display in front of the Old Cathedral of Tijuana.
(Notice the vendors’ stall in front).

I thought that was a really cool looking chuch.  A service was just starting as I walked by.

Here is a local street:

And the Tijuana arch reminds you that this is all just a few blocks from the heart of touristy TJ.

Finally, I stopped in a pharmacy for some prescription-free Viagara batteries and an Apple Lift soda (it’s way better in Germany), then hopped into my third taxi of the day.  I was off to the ballgame!

If I remember right, this cab ride cost about $12 by the meter.  I want to say it was about 10 miles (the stadium is closer to the Otay Mesa border crossing than San Ysidro), and I enjoyed the ride the whole way.

The roads were in surprisingly good condition the whole way, the traffic wasn’t terrible, and I enjoyed essentially getting a tour of the city.

While I didn’t spot any Maquilaoras, the Home Depot above let me know that globalization had most certainly not passed Tijuana by.

I found it kind of ironic that one of the very few Mexican flags I saw during my trip (I think you might need a permit to fly one) was over an American big-box chain. 

I found it even more ironic that the Home Depot was no more than half a mile from the sort of third-world slum that I had never before seen in person.

A Land without Aramark: Potros de Tijuana Baseball at Estadio Calimax

This taxi driver, like the first, also spoke excellent English, and he was very friendly.  He even invited me to sit in the front seat!

He wasn’t familiar with the baseball stadium, but I had the address with me, and he ran off for about 5 minutes (“Don’t steal my cab!”) while he found someone who could give him directions.  They must have done a decent job because we found the place with no problem. 

(Well, turning the wrong way down down a one-way street into four lanes of oncoming traffic could have been a problem, but I survived, so I guess it really wasn’t.)

We chatted for a while in the car.  At one point, we passed a group of Mormon missionaries.  The cabbie told me that he was a Mormon, and that he has a lot of respect for Mormon missionaries because they speak excellent Spanish.
I mentioned that I sometimes attend Community of Christ services, and he was clearly excited. 
I just thought that was interesting in one of the world’s most Catholic countries.

Soon enough, we were at Estadio Calimax (formerly set up for soccer as Estadio Nacional), home of the Potros de Tijuana equipo de beisball!

The stadium is set back in a mostly residential neighborhood that my first cab driver of the day told me wasn’t the best, but also wasn’t the worst.  I’d say that’s an accurate description of the vibe I got of the neighborhood.  If I were with a local, I think I would have enjoyed exploring the neighborhood.  There were a few tiny storefront restaurants that looked interesting.

Despite being located well outside of downtown, the signage pointing to the ballpark was surprisingly good.  Many American teams could take note here.

(The white balance is a little off there–sorry!)

I got in line to buy my ticket just as they were playing the national anthem.   I would have liked to have seen that, but it’s not such a big deal if that’s all I missed.

I picked a general admission chair behind home plate, which ran me 40 pesos, or just under US$4.  To sit a little bit lower, a reserved box seat was about $2 more, while an unreserved concrete bleacher down the foul lines cost less than $2.   There was a restaurant/club; I think those seats went for about $15 US.

Walking in the gate, I was absolutely blown away.

I hesitate to use the word “overwhelming” when describing something abroad, because it can have negative connotations.  I mean, who wants to be “overwhelmed” when they are likely already outside of their comfort zone?

Here, though, I can’t think of any other word to use, but I have to stress that I mean it in a positive way.

The concourse of the stadium had the feel of a market, which made it one of the best experiences I’ve ever had at a baseball game.

Unlike in the US, where concessions are almost always contracted out to one big supplier, like Aramark, Estadio Calimax (named for a regional supermarket chain) seems to rent out individual retail stalls to individuals and small businesses, much like you might rent a space in a market.  That means that, instead of finding a dozen stalls offering essentially the same hot dogs as each other (not to mention the same hot dogs as the stadium 4 hours away), like you would in the US, here I had a choice of a dozen different food stalls run by a dozen different mom-and-pop companies, in addition to one (yep, only one!) Dominoes Pizza stall, two stalls selling toys, a stall selling cell phones, and a two souvenir stands!  Add the fact that there were also two stages on the concourse, and visiting the stadium felt like a trip to a local market.
It really doesn’t get much better than that.

Of course, I complain when teams put too much emphasis on ammenities that simply distract from the game.  While the market-like experience on the concourse is definitely a big part of the Potros experience, it is not shoved down your throat.  In fact, I would say that the team spends more time focusing attention on the game itself than most US teams do.

As great as the concourse is, a seemingly endless parade of vendors from the concourse stalls make trips through the stands, so you never really need to leave your seat. 
Aside from the mascots (just as popular here as they were at the soccer game earlier), there are virtually no on-field antics between innings.
And the fans GET INTO IT.

No, there weren’t any singing and drumming barra-bravas  at the game I attended, but there were 8500 baseball fans were still cheering with their team down at the end of a poorly-played, early-season 4-hour marathon in the mid-50s, Fahrenheit.  Their noisemakers and the scoreboard’s constant appeal to make noise did get a little irritating, but even still, the fans seemed to be there primarily to watch baseball.  Unfortunately, that is becoming all too uncommon here in the States.

I have to hand it to the Potros de Tijuana (Tijuana Colts); they run a first-class operation all the way.
In addition to hosting a very nice website (unlike the un-web-savy soccer team, my Potros experience was very easy to plan via the Internet), the gameday experience is fantastic.

As you can see, the stadium is beautiful.
Digital Ballparks, a very well-respected stadium website, paid a visit here a few years ago.  They do a decen job with a photo tour, but, at the time of their visit, the stadium was configured for soccer.  They photoshopped to give a better feeling of the place for baseball.  Well, nowadays the stadium truly configured for baseball, it it is a great place for it.

One of the things I love about foreign countries, and even places in the US outside of big cities and wealthy suburbia, is the relative lack of worry about being sued for liability.

On the concourse of Estadio Calimax are big inclinded walls that support the grandstands.  They proved to be a popular makeshift sliding-board for the local kids.

Yes, I suppose it’s a broken arm waiting to happen.  But kids get banged up all the time, and I found it refreshing that kids were able to be kids at the game, all while staying out of the hair of people who were there to watch the game.

I think this is one of the best self-portraits I’ve ever taken.
(Yes, I just couldn’t wait to put on my jersey from the soccer game!)

A shot of the outfield and scoreboard.  The Potros kept Jackie Robinson’s picture up on the video board for a good portion of the game.  Major League Baseball was honoring Jackie Robinson this weekend on the anniversary of integrating the US Big Leagues, and I thought it was classy that Tijuana would do something similiar.
(I think that sign on the hill says “Jesus Saves,” but I couldn’t tell for sure).

I had two more tacos at the baseball game (just under $1 each), and while smaller, they were just as good as the one I had at the soccer game.  But, I just couldn’t stop there.

I decided to get a torta!

The guy at Washmobile Tortas spoke English once he noticed that I was struggling to order my sandwich with todo, or everything. 
Apparently Washmobile Tortas is somewhat of a Tijuana tradition.  I think they are mainly known for operating out of a truck near the site of a former car wash, but their stadium location was wonderful.  A flatbread grilled chicken sandwhich with guacamole, mayo, and who knows what else was better than you could ever imagine.

Once again, words can’t describe it.  At almost $4, this was my most expensive snack, but it was oh-so-good.

I had a Tecate beer to wash it down (<$2):

As you can see above, they do something unique here with the beer: they take a paper cup, dip the rim in some kind of sweet syrup (tamarind?), and then dip it again in some kind of powder (chili?).
The sweet/spicy/bitter taste was unique.  I don’t think I liked it, but I wouldn’t mind trying again.  Maybe it’s an aquired taste.  It seemed pretty popular; lots of people were licking it off first thing!

Although this particular game didn”t show it (the starting pitcher didn’t make it out of the first third of an inning, and it didn’t get a heck of a lot better from there), the Mexican league is officially sanctioned as a AAA league by Minor League Baseball.  This means that it is the highest level of baseball in Mexico (“the Mexican Major League”), and it is officially considered on par with the second-highest level of baseball in the US (teams like Scranton). 
I think this is the only unaffilliated league that is given a classification by the NAPBL.

(I’m not sure if Minor League Baseball is being overly generous in assigning it a AAA rating, or if I simply saw a bad game.  Also, I have heard that the Mexico’s unclassed wintertime Pacific League might be of better quality, but I don’t know if that is true.)

You can’t really tell, but that sign on the clubhouse door is a list, in English and Spanish, of Minor League Baseball media rules, just like you’d see in Trenton, NJ.  It made me feel oddly at home.

Due to a blown call in the bottom of the 9th, the game actually ended pretty closely.  For a while, I was wondering (ok, fearing–it had been a LONG game) if we might be looking at extra innings.  Forunately, that was not the case.  Just under 4 hours after we began, the game ended in 9-8 win for the Tabasco Olmecas over Tijuana.

Despite the chilly temperatures and the long and poorly-played game, this may have been the best overall experience I have ever had at a baseball game.

The trip home

After the 3rd out in the 9th inning, I raced to the front gate so that I’d be sure to get one of the four taxis that were queued up (as I mentioned before, this was my biggest worry about my trip).  I had seen/heard at least a dozen other gringos at the game; in a way, this was comforting, because I thought there was a good chance they knew that they’d be able to get a cab home.  But at the same time, I was worried they’d take all the cabs and leave me stranded. 
Fortunately, all of my worrying was unneccessary; I was the first fan in a cab.

I told the cab driver where I wanted to go, and he had a chuckle about it with one of the other cab drivers.  Not exactly sure why.

We did our best to exchange a few Pimsleur I pleasantries, and soon enough we were at la linea, the pedestian line for entry to the US. 
I think the cab fare was about US$10.

I’ve heard that, at the absolute busiest times, it’s possible for the automotive immigration line to stretch for over four hours and for the pedestrian line to go on for two.  I’d also heard that half of that would be a good estimate for an average. 

They say this is the world’s busiest border crossing.
Looking at the line for cars to enter the US, I can believe it.  Fortunately, though, I must have picked a good time to go.  There were only about 5 people in front of me to cross back into the US.

Although I was tired, I was a little sad to leave.  I found Tijuana to be a very interesting city, and it absolutely deserved more time than I gave it. 
No, it isn’t the US, but if you expect everything to be just like it is at home, well, then you’re probably best to stay at home.

I was expecting something a little different from home, and I got it.  But I had to go home anyway.

Outside of Schengenland, this was probably the easiest immigration check I’d ever had.  And, being single and unattached, I had nothing to declare at customs (har dee har har).  Just like going, the border crossing was absolutely painless (no re-entry stamp, though). 

This time, I had no trouble finding the Trolley from the immigration post.  The ride home was a little long, but soon enough, I was back on the SDSU campus.

Then, it was a 10-minute walk to Dan’s.

For reasons I can’t explain, when I walked in the house, the dog bit me and my friends started cracking up.   Here I am right after I got home.
Was it the jersey?

I did my best to blend in, and I had a very nice time.  I encountered no problems whatsoever.  Yes, I’m sure Tijuana has its bad areas, and I’m sure some of the horror stories about people going down there, getting drunk, robbed, raped, and jailed, are true.  In fact, going down there to get drunk strikes me as a terribly bad idea. 
But, for sightseeing, cultural, and sports travel, I think it warrants several visits.  Stay smart, stay sober, be polite, and blend in as best you can (avoid shorts, talking loudly, and learn some very basic Spanish), and I think you’ll be just fine. 

Mexico really isn’t the destitute hellhole many Americans think it is. 
Some statistics will tell you that the US-Mexican border is the only place in the world where the First World and Third World meet.  In some ways, that might be true, but other statistics will tell you that Mexico is one of the world’s poorer First World countries, rather than one of the richer third world ones.  This is also true. 
While half a day there hardly makes me an expert on a country, I would encourage you to toss out as many stereotypes and preconceptions as you can, and take the place for what it is–a different, interesting, mostly safe, and, in some ways, foreign country right in our own backyard.

I went and had a great time, and I would encourage you to go and do the same.

 

After my Trip

I might not have gotten my passport stamped, but my trip out west still qualifies me to update my travel maps!

The places in red are the places I’ve been so far.

create your own visited country map

create your own personalized map of the USA

create your own personalized map of Canada

create your personalized map of europe

I think that’s all I have to say about my trip.  I could go on, of course, but I think I’ve said enough.  If you’d like to hear more, though, just let me know!

Links du jour:  Good Tijuana travel guide.  AND an even better one.  AND a good photo essay on Baja California, including a Potros baseball game.

Filed under: Baseball, Life, Posts with Pictures, Soccer, Sports, Stadiums, Travel, Website Highlights