Tijuana Pack Notes 2023

Since 2018, I have taken an annual trip to Tijuana, Mexico by way of San Diego to help build a small house for a family in need of a place to call their own.   I say annual but of course the trip did not occur in 2020 or in 2021.  In San Diego I meet up with a group from the San Francisco area who are mostly all members of the same church.  The church has been doing the trip for a few decades.  My wife’s sister was married to a pastor at the church, which is how I found my way to the trip.

After meeting in San Diego, we rent vans and make our way across the border at Otay Mesa.  We proceed from there to a campground run by a not-for-profit called Amor that hosts groups like ours.  The campground is on the eastern outskirts of Tijuana, on the road toward Tecate.  We set up tents at the campground; we hire a local team of cooks to provide food for us for the five nights we are there.  

I have written an account of the trip each of the four times I’ve done it.  After the trip, I take account of my packing.  Did I bring what I needed?  What did I bring that I didn’t use?  It’s a challenging trip to pack for because everyone working on the house is supposed to bring a few basic tools.  After including clothes, tools, and some camping gear, my pack gets pretty heavy.  Which is why I take a close look at what I choose to lug around with me as I make the trip from St. Louis to San Diego and then to Tijuana and back.  These are my pack notes, with each item getting its own bullet-point breakdown.

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Tonic water bottle (10 oz, plastic).  I used it extensively, initially as a water bottle in the airport.  I brought it empty in my carry-on as I went through security.  I filled it from water fountains or water stations in the airports.  The Elkay brand bottle-filling stations have become close to ubiquitous in airports nowadays: Lambert, DFW, San Diego.

In the tent at camp, the small tonic bottle was my ration bottle, a useful measuring device, a daily amount as I filled it from a larger bottle using a small funnel I brought for just this reason.  

Gloves.  I took three pairs of work gloves.  I used two.  Two pairs were varying styles of leather.  Both were already used.  If we’re talking leather, I prefer broken-in gloves to brand new ones.  The other pair I brought were thick rubber, XL.  They’re sturdy and versatile; great for roof work, tarring.  Because they’re rubber, they’re good for stucco work, too.  Leather gloves and stucco don’t mix.  The pair of gloves I didn’t use were leather, a back-up I didn’t need.  I could buy gloves at the Home Depot in San Diego instead of flying with them.  But they don’t take up much space and they’re not heavy.  

Sun hats.  I took two.  I wasn’t sure I needed both but I did.  These are big floppy hats made by Sun Day Afternoon, L/XL.  One of the hats I worked pretty hard at the worksite.  As I take it out of my backpack, it is crusty, stained by sweat and sunscreen, and it reeks.  The second I kept clean; I didn’t wear it at the worksite, I wore it back at camp in the late afternoon/early evening when we were baking en la playa, after bathing, while we were waiting for the sun to fall behind the mountains.  It was nice to have a clean hat to put on after getting sort-of clean after my bucket “shower.”  Two sun hats next time for sure.  They don’t weigh much and they don’t take up much room.

Trunks/after-shower shorts.  We are supposed to wear a swimsuit when we use the bathhouse.  Campground rule.  So I have a pair of wet swimming trunks on after bathing.  You could dry off pretty easily just walking around the campground.  The afternoons there are almost always the same: sunny and gusty.  But after roasting and sweating in the sun all day at the worksite, I’m reluctant to take on more sun.  I’ve just tried to get myself clean of sunscreen grime; I’m not going to put more sunscreen on so I just walk around a bit before I go back to the tent and shuck the wet trunks.  I find a good place to hang them (see: magnets, later) before switching into a pair of running shorts that have a lining in them.  I don’t put on any underwear because even though I’ve toweled off, I don’t really feel dry.  I’m hot so it almost feels like I’m sweating a little.  The running shorts are kind of loose and airy and I can peripatetically make my way over to the shade of the mess tent and then I get truly dry in the blasting late afternoon desert wind.  

Collared long-sleeved shirt.  Needed two.  Collar is dirty.  The old “ring around the collar” from the daytime commercials of my youth.  What was that brand, Cheer?  I wanted a shirt that was both light and long-sleeved, something breathable that I could wear to cover my arms after bathing.  Cotton sunscreen.  It worked well for that but I’m going to have to pre-treat this collar.  I slept in this shirt some nights.  And I had it on in San Diego when I met the group Sunday morning.  Drove in it, pitted it out.  Wore it to dinner most nights.  It’s an old shirt.  I bought it at the Brooks Brothers outlet store at Osage Beach, Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri, circa 1997. 

Thin half-towel.  I don’t know when or how or where I ended up with it.  Was it among the rags in the rag cabinet at my parents’ house, and I snagged it?  It’s old, and some might say threadbare.  But it seems to absorb water well from skin, and it’s not bulky like a plush beach towel, so it packs well.  It dries quickly.  Everything you want from a travel towel.  I also brought a thicker, medium-sized towel I lifted from a Hampton Inn exercise room outside Cleveland.  I like to lay the exercise towel out on the cot when I’m changing after bathing.  Then I’ll use a couple of the washcloth-like rags that a friend of mine acquired while working at Whole Foods to get a little more dry in certain areas that are hard to get dry without the help of the wind.

Short-sleeved linen shirt.  I got it at a Buffalo Exchange in Austin, TX, in 2003. That was one of the first things my wife and I did when we moved there twenty years ago, not yet married.  It’s one of my best shirts.  I’ve taken it many places.  The Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Chicago, Mexico, Michigan, Massachusetts, Mexico again.   But I’m not sure it works for this trip.  I thought it would be the shirt I wore after bathing but it doesn’t offer the sun protection.  It’s a shirt for the poolside, a shirt for a backyard barbecue on a summer’s day.  

Cheap flip-flops.  I got them for $10 in Tucson a couple years ago.  I wanted shower shoes.  And they are.  They were great on this trip.  I don’t want to go for a walk in them because they are thin and flimsy but for casual use around camp they were suitable.  They’re all rubber/plastic.  No leather.  Nothing that can stay wet or get musty.  

Unused t-shirt.  A thin, old one I bought over twenty years ago from a Target in St. Louis.  Translucent.  It was too thin to wear at the worksite because the sun would get through and I’d be broiled.  I thought I might wear it in San Diego, or on the plane ride home but I packed too many t-shirts: this short-sleeved T and one long-sleeved cotton T that I never wore.  

I’m smelling this unused, unworn shirt that never made it outside the tent.  It smells like birthday candle smoke, after someone has blown out the candles.  Tijuana, unfortunately, was smokier and hazier than ever.  The slight tang and wick of kerosene residue is on that shirt, uncanny.

Sleeping bag.  Yeah, I used it.  Off and on throughout the night, each night.  It cools down east of Tijuana, in what is not quite the Sonora, at night.  I wanted to be in that bag in the night, to feel the cushion of whatever synthetic down fills its walls, or I wanted it between my bony knees as I wrestled with the nether in the dark.  

Neck Pillow.  Big time.  I used it in the tent as a pillow for my head while reading and writing or I put it between my legs when sleeping on my side.  If I could manage to sleep on my back, this would be the only pillow I would need.  But I’m a side-sleeper so I use the neck pillow to keep my knees from knocking.  For a pillow under my head while sleeping, I took my sleeping bag bag and filled it first with unused clothes then later with dirties.  It’s a poor pillow arrangement.  I could buy a pillow at the Walmart near where we rendezvous in San Diego.  I wouldn’t bring it back with me; I’d toss it in the gear truck when we load it before leaving Tijuana, and they’d find one unclaimed pillow when they emptied it again in San Fran. 

First pair of work pants.  I wore Dickies painter pants as my on-site work pants all week.  They’re dirty, dusty, and smudged all over with tar.  They served me well.  The cotton is a little rough but they were inexpensive and I hadn’t used them much before this week.  Now they’re broken in.  The nice thing about painter pants is being able to eschew a toolbelt.  The pants are like a toolbelt—lots of pockets and a loop for a hammer.

Mess kit: metal cup.  I don’t know what would replace it.  I used it for coffee then for cereal.  The Cheerios ran out mid-week.  I wasn’t interested in Corn Pops or Fruit Loops; would’ve loved some Raisin Bran or Total.  I also used the metal cup for coffee at the Best Western in San Diego.  Its only flaw is that it’s not insulated so I don’t use it for icy drinks because it would sweat.

Rags, banandas, hankies.  I took two Helm rags, which are small dish towels, a little larger than washcloths.  I kept one in a pants pocket, to wipe sweat from my face.  Or to wipe sweat from my arms and neck before reapplying sunscreen.  I kept one in the tent to help get dry after bathing.  The hankies I used to blow my nose.  My allergies were never out of control but I did blow my nose from time to time.  I used one of the bandanas, but I can’t recall for what, exactly.  I never wore it or had it around my neck.  I took two bandanas but I’m not sure I needed either.

Small mesh bags.  Took three, used them all.  One started out with socks, one started out with underwear.  One began empty.  I brought them all home stuffed with dirties.  They’re useful for organizing, and they’re lightweight and washable.

Workboots.  They served me well.  They’re Keen steel-toed utility boots.  Extra wide.  I never thought about my feet the whole trip.  Never felt the plantar fasciitis that dogged me for ten months after this trip last year.  And now that I’m no longer flying with my tools, I can afford to pack these heavy boots in my checked luggage, so I don’t have to wear them when I fly.

Square.  I returned with a speed square, but it wasn’t the one I left with.  I made a swap from the Amor worksite toolbox.  I traded my metal one for one made of rugged plastic.  The plastic square is not any lighter but it’s easier to pack because its edges aren’t sharp.  I’ll be curious, if I make it back, to see if my metal square, bearing the initials “JR” is in the public toolbox next year.  

Cloth napkin.  I’d bring it again.  I like a sturdy napkin for wiping my mouth and my hands during meals.  Paper towels would also work, and they were available at the wash station, courtesy of the church.  The napkins on offer at the mess tent are a little thin.

Canvas bag.  It’s a small over-the-shoulder bag that my parents brought back from Greece decades ago.  It has the word “Patmos” on it.  It has a zipper.  It’s the type of reusable bag one might take to the grocery store.  It helped me organize during the week.  In the mornings, I’d gather the items I had in the tent that I wanted to take out to the van, putting them in this bag so I wouldn’t forget them.  I took it shopping when I was in San Diego.

P Von Jr. shirt.  A cast-off from a friend, who thought it was too blousy on him.  It’s the kind of shirt you might go fishing in.  Lightweight, quick-to-dry, multi-pocketed.  I wore it on the plane.  Then I wore it around camp after showering.  Because it’s loose-fitting, I dried off quickly while wearing it.

P Von Sr jeans.  Also a castoff, from my friend’s late father.  They fit me well in the waist but they are much shorter in the leg than what I’d normally wear.  They’re high-water jeans.  I don’t mind that look in the summer, a la capri pants.  But mostly I took these jeans to honor my friend’s late father, who passed away not long before the trip.  Otherwise I would not take them on this trip again.  I’d go back to the linen pants I’ve packed on prior trips, for walking around camp after bathing, for after dinner singing and disco.

Poncho.  I bought one in the Amor store.  I wore it to bed the last night; then I wore it on the beach in San Diego.  I’m worried it will shed; let’s see how it looks after a wash.  It was only $15 and it screams Baja California, Tijuana, beach bum, SoCal burnout all in one.

Two pairs of sunglasses.  With cases.  Wore both, wanted both.  One clean pair for driving, the other for working in and getting streaked with sweat and sunscreen.  

Mess kit: scouring pad.  Not sure I need it.  If I clean my plate promptly; if I wipe my plate and utensils with a decent paper towel before washing.  So I probably don’t need the little container of dish soap, either.  

Toothbrush, toothpaste, floss.  I brought more toothpaste than I needed.  And there was communal toothpaste on offer at the wash station.  Set aside a nearly empty tube for next time.  I pre-cut a dozen pieces of floss.  Silly.  Backfired.  All they did was get tangled.  A floss container isn’t heavy and doesn’t take up much space.  

Sharpies.  We needed more or better markers for the work on the roof.  When we are nailing in the shingle paper, we want to sink our nails into the house’s rafters.  But this isn’t easy because we can’t see the rafters.  So we look over the edge of the roof to find the end of the rafter where it juts out.  Then we take a marker and, using a long 2 x 4 like a ruler, we mark the rafter line.  But the Sharpie we were using was either already running dry or the act of running its tip along the shingle paper wore it quickly down to a nub.  I’m not quite sure what the answer is.

Sunscreen.  I didn’t get this right.  My face wasn’t adequately protected.  My arms weren’t happy either, in the areas around the elbow, forearm, and triceps.  I took a Neutrogena sunscreen stick but I don’t think it worked.  Was it not thick enough?  Was the Banana Boat SPF 50 I took expired, or too thin?  I also had a small tube of CeraVe mineral sunscreen, for the face.  Which I didn’t apply until we were just back over the border.  It was thick, made me look like a mime.  Which was how Greg looked all week.  Absurd but protected.  Multiple people asked me during the week about my red, red face.  My face is often red, perhaps because of alcohol or maybe it’s genetics.  This week it was red because of sun exposure.  I was wiping that stick on my face every morning, then reapplying whenever I felt it burning.  I just need to buy a fresh tube of mineral sunscreen when I get to San Diego, wipe it all over my face and then on my arms, no more messing around, even if I look like a clown.

Mess kit: fork, spoon, & metal plate.  I could do without the metal plate, but the metal fork and spoon are essential mess kit items.  If the plates offered by Baja Cooks are paper (as opposed to styrofoam) then I am alright using them and throwing them away.  But those plastic utensils are nearly useless.  Who can cut up a piece of meat with a flimsy plastic knife and fork?  Who wants to eat pasta from a tiny, plastic fork?  I like eating my cereal in the morning with a big metal spoon.  I like twirling my pasta with a real metal fork.  

Books.  I took four, came back with five.  I had a New England Review, Charles Wright’s Negative Blue, a Rattle from 2015, and a book of essays.  I read some of the Wright.  On the plane I was either writing or doing sudoku I had copied into my notebook.  I like to have plenty of reading material with me but this was one book too many.  There just isn’t much down time at camp, if I’m going to keep a detailed journal of the trip.  I temporarily acquired Peter’s book of Robert Service poems, which he left behind in the car after parting from the group on Coronado Island once we were back stateside.  I did read some of the Service poems aloud to myself in the hotel room my last night in San Diego.  Rhyming ballads.

Brook’s collapsible bag.  I used it to carry my toiletries to the bathing area.  Being 100 percent nylon, it doesn’t hold moisture so it dries quickly and packs up readily.  Worth taking.

Hydroflask.  I used it constantly to keep ice from melting; to have cold water.  The insulation on this type of bottle is a difference-maker.  Your standard Nalgene or Klean Kanteeen cannot do what an insulated bottle can do.  Without the Hydroflask, water or sports drinks will quickly rise to ambient temperature, which was often in the nineties.  

Carabiners.  I took three.  One on each of the Klean Kanteen and the Hydroflask.  Another on my fanny pack.  I needed at least two.  One for the Hydroflask, so I could attach it to my belt loop when I needed both hands free but wanted to carry water around.  I needed another to hold the van keys during the week, which I wanted to keep on my belt loop during the day so I would have them handy when one of my van mates needed to get into the van. 

Flannel bag.  It came with some dress shoes I bought a decade ago.  It’s one of my myriad storage bags.  I kept it in my fanny pack to hold important things, such as headlamp, battery pack, receipts, pesos envelope, passport, and cash.  A bag within a bag holds many things.

Passport.  Maybe it goes without saying, but I needed it both going into Mexico and upon returning.

Pesos.  I did not use them.  Even if I had bought my poncho from the woman selling wares at the worksite, I would’ve paid her in dollars because it’s better for her to be paid in dollars.  I have used pesos before on this trip, on the two occasions when we crossed back to the U.S. through the long, slow line at Otay Mesa.  You want them there to pay for the privilege of using a baño at one of the many stores lining the return queue.  Now that we’re crossing at Tecate, having pesos for baños is not a concern.

Cash.  I used about $120.  Mostly for tools at Home Depot, but also at Von’s supermarket, and for tips in the hotels.  Otherwise I used my credit card for Target, Lyft, checked bags, Mike’s Taco Club, gasoline for the van, hotel bills, and in the airport for fast food.

Headlamp.  Used it all five nights and also some mornings at camp.  I brought one that runs on either a rechargeable lithium ion battery or three AAA batteries.  The lithium battery is now about a third full.  Cheryl used it for a flashlight during small groups one night.  I didn’t need the AAA batteries I took as a backup, but I’d take them again.  

Mobile battery pack.  It got a lot of use, from me and from my van mates.  I took it charged full.  It’s now somewhere around one-quarter full.  That’s still pretty good.  Our car trips to and from the worksite were not very long so we didn’t charge our devices much while commuting.  Luckily our van had multiple charging ports, four or five, of differing variety.  One was the cigarette lighter-style, one was straight USB, another was an electrical socket.  I brought a typical phone charging cord and plug, which I used in the hotels and also to plug into the pack.

Reading glasses.  I am farsighted so I need them everyday or I won’t be reading long, nor spending much time on my phone.  

Five pens, one pencil.  Used them all.  Could’ve used either a pink- or an orange-ink pen for marking transitions and the passage of time in my journal.  Found a pencil on the ground at camp that I brought back.  I ditched the so-called carpenter pencils I took.  They’re supposed to be good for marking cut lines on wood but I prefer a pencil of the old-school, basic variety.  The carpenter pencils are hard to sharpen and they don’t seem to mark well.  

Pill mix.  Ate a couple of allergy pills.  Took three ibuprofen the last morning in San Diego.  Whiskey?  I didn’t think I had much, 200 mL.  Maybe my tolerance fell that much in Tijuana?  I didn’t take any heartburn pills the whole trip, remarkable.  Though I was fairly fresh off a two-week course of generic Nexium, which seems to have done its job.

Headphones.  I took my corded Bose earbuds.  Used them on the plane, during three of the four flights.  I also wore them when I went to the bathroom in the morning, to block out any awareness I might have had of a fellow camper in the stall next-door.  In short, I use headphones to keep me focused, to block all the rest of it out.  The cord on this pair is getting a little frayed.  I did not take any of my cordless AirPods.  I figured I’d just lose one, maybe down the vault.  And out of there, there’s no getting it back.

Nuts.  I bought a can of Planter’s mixed nuts and a bag of Blue Diamond roasted & salted almonds at the Target in Ocean Beach.  I ate all of the Planter’s.  Mid-mornings at the work site I would get a craving for something salty and I’d raid the can.  That’s about as close to true hunger as I will ever get, probably.

Bite guard.  I forgot to wear it one night at camp and then again the final night in San Diego.  I grind my teeth at night so I need to wear it or eventually I’ll break all my molars.

Wipes.  I used a couple from the pack I brought and I would’ve used more but the church supplied a thick pack for each van.  The wipes are great for cleaning my arms, face, and neck at the end of the day, before showering.  Otherwise, I probably would’ve needed two buckets of water to get clean: one to get the dirt/sunscreen/sweat grime off of my body.  Then another bucket of fresh water to rinse myself clean of the soap.  

Paracord & Magnets.  Ten feet of cord that I didn’t use.  Lines at camp are a hazard for tripping.  Nor is there a place to run a clothesline in the tent.  The original idea was to hang my wet clothes from the line but my trunks and towel dried out so fast just draped over the cot that I didn’t even need a clothesline.  Ditto the four, quarter-sized rare earth magnets, which I have previously used to affix my wet clothes to the side of the van for drying.  They’re fun and showy but I don’t need them.

Tweezers.  I did not use them but I would bring them again.  For splinter extraction, theoretically.

Pair of small, clear, vinyl valises.  Used one to hold toiletries.  Used one for miscellaneous items.  I liked these a lot.  They’re my wife’s.  Some liquid soap I left with from St. Louis leaked en route San Diego, so there was a mess inside one of the valises, leading me to chuck some bandages I brought.  But the valis held the leaked liquid soap, kept the spill from becoming worse, a challenge passed.

Soap, shampoo, conditioner, and face wash.  After my bottle of liquid soap leaked, I meant to look for a small bottle of Dr. Bronner’s at the Target in Ocean Beach but I never put that item on my list so I forgot it when I was in the store.  I brought a bar of Dr. Bronner’s Tea Tree & Hemp Oil soap, which I used along with a washcloth for getting clean at camp.  I used the shampoo every time I “showered” but only once did I use the conditioner.  It’s difficult to get all of that product out of my hair when I’m bathing from a bucket. I used plenty of face wash to help get the sunscreen off of my face after work.  If I had leftover shampoo suds after washing my hair or if I had face wash left on my hands after washing my face, I’d redirect those suds to my arms to help cut through the sunscreen and dirt built up there.

Nasal spray.  I was using it consistently and I was happy with my allergy profile on this trip.  My experience with the nasal spray is this: you can’t resort to the spray in the midst of an ongoing attack.  By then, it’s too late.  If I’m already sneezing, if my nose is already running, then adding the spray on top of those symptoms will probably make them worse.  It’s best to take the spray in the evening or first thing upon waking, before the sneezing begins.  It has to be proactive.  A timely spray covers me for 18 hours, roughly.  I might still do some sneezing but with regular use, the spray keeps an attack from spiraling out of control.  

Rubbing alcohol in a small spray bottle.  As far as I know, I did not reek of body odor.  The alcohol spray, applied under the arms twice a day, appears to work well as a deodorant.   I still have underarm sweating, especially on the airplane and while my nerves act up just before meeting the rest of the group.  But the spray kills the armpit microbes that would otherwise produce the odor.  

Aquaphor.  I brought a small tube for application on chapped lips but I ended up using it on the dry, itchy, sun-singed skin of my forearms.  I wish I had brought a little aloe but the Aquaphor helped.  When my arms started itching I sat there in my tent telling myself I had brought something that would help.  But it took me a day to figure out what it was.  

Antifungal cream.  Glad I packed it.  I used it the first evening in San Diego.  I had some itchy discomfort in a spot where it crops up from time to time.  I put a little smidge of the antifungal on there, and the trouble went away.  If I ever had an itch at camp it wasn’t long before the sun, the heat, and the Baja desert wind whisked it all away.  

Ear plugs. I took four but never used them.  I had moments where I thought about popping them in.  First in my hotel room in Ocean Beach when the couple next door was going sideways, the jilted boyfriend pounding on their door at one-thirty in the morning.  But earplugs weren’t going to fix that noise.  On the last night at camp there was a hammering sound coming from the refugee shantytown near camp.  The night before it was some tired English-language American rap music at 10 pm coming from the same row of hovels.  I don’t mind hearing music in another language, puedo dormir a español.  But I don’t want to hear noise in a language I know when I’m trying to fade into the ether.