Derrik Chinn
Live: Playas de Tijuana
Work: Tijuana
How long: My series of atypical day-trips began in 2009. Since then, it’s grown into a caravan of anywhere from 10 to 60 foreigners - San Diegans, mostly - looking to live like natives for a few hours in a city that was, ironically, built for tourists.
BREAKFAST: El Yogurt Place, about a block from the ocean in Playas, may be the most serene, yet bizarre breakfast spot in the entire bi-border region. It's sandwiched between the bullring, vacant lots of overgrown greenery and the border fence. The semicircular wooden design, with huge windows and plants everywhere, reminds me of the Swiss Family Robinson tree house. I usually go for the Huevos a la Toñ
a, scrambled eggs with molcajete sauce, and a side of nopales. But the wheat pancakes have strawberries and bananas in the batter, so it's a tough call. Bonus: The place is close enough to the border to pick up a U.S. cell signal so your iPhone feels a little less worthless than it does elsewhere south of the border.
LUNCH: Marisco El Cholo, a sidewalk seafood stand on Sixth Street. The lone table is an old rowboat and the kitchen is hidden in some narrow blue closet off to the side. The first time I went, I had just watched Mexico beat France in the World Cup live on a Jumbotron in a roundabout with a few thousand ecstatic locals. Billy Joel's "Piano Man" was playing on some nearby, tinny boom box, the sun was shining strong, and Tijuana felt like Paris according to Tim Burton. I ordered a coctel, a mix of raw seafood and Clamato that you eat with tostadas or saltines, and after it was over I thought to myself, if I don't get sick, that's the best meal I've ever had. And sure enough, nada de food poisoning.
DINNER: In a former screen-printing bodega on Boulevard Agua Caliente is El Taller, home of gourmet Baja-Med pizza. The miracle baby on the menu is the mole and flank steak pie. Yes, mole pizza. Go with a few friends, order a large, plus a roasted beet salad, an arugula salad, grilled potatoes tossed with bacon-wrapped shrimp and a couple rounds of Negra Modelos, all of which sets you back about $15 U.S. each. The aluminum and brick walls, wood plank floors, chalkboard décor, stainless steel and lemon-yellow accents hint at Tijuana as an oxymoronic rustic, urban frontier. Chalked on the wall among many one-liners: "We speak fluent... our English is just as good as your Spanish. Mistakes may occur."
BAR: It's 11 p.m. on Friday and I'm at a bar called Dragón Rojo. It’s on the edge of downtown, along St. Cecilia Plaza, where prostitutes in clear heels graze alongside the for-hire mariachis. Joy Division's "She's Lost Control" has just given way to Alphaville's "Big In Japan," and on the wood-paneled wall hangs a life-size copper plastic naked lady lying on her side. In front of me sits a bottle of Victoria, the volume of which equates to at least half of a six pack. It costs 30 pesos. That's $2.25 or so, plus some pocket lint.