Writing while traveling
This is the fourth and final installment of my trip to Tijuana in 2023 with members of Burlingame Presbyterian Church. In this installment, we finish the house for Ivan and Enalit. The black widow meets an untimely death. I finally visit the mysterious Amor Store. And Peter burns his cherished pants...
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We go out and build houses for families, the same house every time. You meet the family but who knows what happens when the house is done and you go back home. We get the family's bio and we are excited to talk about the family and the work we do; how much good our work is doing the family. No one asks me to do this, of course.
We're all in tents, more or less the same abode. There are daily water limits. Supposedly. There's a sign referring to a limit, but I've never seen it enforced. So much happens just by way of suggestion. If anything unusual occurs, it's a big deal. Like the guitar-playing security guard. Or the security guards in general. They don't seem like the most formidable security force. There is a fence around the Amor campground, but it's not an imposing obstacle. It's short; it sags; it could easily be sidled over. But no one ever tries to get in; and no one ever tries to get out because who would do that, it's not done.
We rent our vans from a place called Car Rental Help Center. Quintessential post-modern genericism. I'm dreading going back to that place, even now. We turn our camp keys in when we leave and then we head back across the border. And once we get back to San Diego we are "home." It's like we were never even gone.
We got the pad done today. We call it "the pad" but it's really the house's concrete foundation, a rectangle of cement, water, sand, and gravel measuring eleven by twenty-two feet. And we constructed all of the wall sections, seven of them in all.
The family for whom we are building the house is really friendly. And happy. They are Ivan (age 26) and Enalit (24) and their two children, Keila (7) and Matias (3) . Ivan has a factory job in Tijuana making $85/week, so he wasn't around until later in the day but when he got there we were pretty close to being finished with the pad. He and his wife were standing at the foot of it taking photos. They moved to Tijuana from Chiapas (southern Mexico) in 2022...
This is part two of my 2023 Tijuana trip blog...
The author describes his experiences at Lambert Airport in St. Louis, his flight to San Diego, and his initial impressions of the city. He vividly details his observations of the people and environment at Ocean Beach, recounting encounters with surfers, bums, and musicians. The narrative then shifts to the author's preparations for a camp venture in Tijuana, concluding with reflections on border crossing and the group's arrival at camp...
Click here for the first installment of my Tijuana 2023 Travelogue...
Nearly two years after I went to see my friend Phil in Arkansas, I have finally typed up my account of the trip. He was in home hospice in Russellville, accompanied by his father. Phil passed away about a month after I was there.
As I sit on the balcony and look east/southeast, I can see a few of the tall buildings downtown. And I can see the masts of dozens and dozens of sailboats. No water is visible but it is implied. Seagulls huff and squeal.
Two guys, four rods between them. Getting ready to cross the street by foot, from the Landing side. One is wheeling a small suitcase. One carries an over-the-shoulder bag, the other has a backpack. Both sport galoshes. One is carrying a double-sack that looks heavy. Ice and fish.
I could write more about these fisherman but not today. Maybe I should have planned to stay right here again on the back-end of my excursion to Tijuana? I love this balcony. I could sit here all week. I don’t need to go downtown. I can get a good burrito and beer over here. Hashtag regret. Next time. Or on some future vacation. It’s expensive but when Comic-Con is in town, what’s not?
It’s a grey day but don’t they all start this way in San Diego? The temperature is perfect and it’s only a matter of time before I’ll be slapping on sunscreen, reaching for my hat. I’ve buried the lede, though. I’ve been so engrossed in the fishing traffic that I’ve failed to mention Dan C reaching out to me by text at 4:41. Dan is the leader of the trip I’m taking into Tijuana with Burlingame Presbyterian, my third such foray but the first in three years (COVID).
Dan was asking me about my flight, when it gets in. I said, “Yesterday!” To which he replied, “Great!” But all is not great. One of the flights scheduled to bring in some of our group from the San Francisco airport has been flat-out canceled. This will delay us for sure. How long, that’s the question. The plan was for everyone to meet at the San Diego airport at 10:30 when some of us, including me, would go get the rental vans before returning to the airport to pick up most of the rest of the group. We have 15 to 20 people this year. Once we get to Tijuana we will camp east of the city, with mountains in the distance. This week we will build a basic 11’ x 22’ house for a family of four in the Antorcha neighborhood of Tijuana. It is an act of charity, coordinated by a ministry called Amor....
But Meg said, but Greg said. Camp host reading Stephen King. Spooky. The Cardinals lost, the Nationals lost. Padres at Rockies now, from Coors. There was a brawl in this game. Rox lead 5-0.
I turn down the sound of a commercial. It felt especially out of place here. In Denver you go to Applejack Wine & Spirits. In Chicago it’s Binny’s Beverage Depot. Heck, these days you don’t even have to go to the Binny’s store, they’ll bring it right to your door. Joe Maddon told me that.
I went to Binny’s a couple of times when I lived a summer in Chicago. That was back when beer was blowing up, craft beer—or microbrews, as they were then known. I heard the Tampa Rays announcer yesterday talking about how he used to live in Chicago. He was doing a Rays game against the White Sox. It struck me that a lot of people have once lived in Chicago, midwesterners at least. My brother and sister both live there now.
I’ve only ever once been to New York City. The Big Apple was the setting for a book I just read. It made me want to visit again; or, it made me wish I’d been born there, had a chance to spend more than a few days of my life there. I don’t think I could move to NYC now. Not as a dog owner. Not even as a married man. I would’ve had to have lived there young. If I were living in NYC I’d have to be able to float around. I could have a job but no attachments outside of that. Otherwise I think the City would crush me, wring me out, drive me mad.
What I’ve got here is some OG #18. I taste meat, grease, gas, incense. Not fruit. Bong rip. No cough but a little tenderness in the throat. Harvest was June ninth, twenty-twenty-two. The THC comes in at 26.1 per cent.
Creeping high. I’m on my first drink, which is not usually the case. Usually I’ve had a couple of drinks by the time I’m craving a smoke but we’ve been driving all day.
It’s Braves 5, Mets 3. An urge to write is a good early side effect but this urge might not be due to the weed. It could be the driving. It’s happened before. It’s the movement, my body through the gravity-controlled space of this planet, the vibration of traveling seventy miles an hour, backward in time, against the spin, in a car.
1
The only thing here in the traps was a very crisp frog. There's a bit of a breeze. Only some of the grass has grown, only some of it needs to be mowed. The rest is fried—if it isn't dead it might not grow again this year. So there's one upside to the heat, to the lack of rain: less mowing. If I can stick out the balm, I can spend my time here the next two days doing more of this, and maybe a little reading...
Look at how red that star is. Oh, I know, my pillowcase was soaking wet. Did you just text me? I never use the hand dryer. You know that door makes a lot of noise when it bangs shut, right? I don’t have any idea what time it is. The insects are happy. I can see Orion’s belt now. Can you imagine coming out here before the road was paved? I don’t know if those people are just getting up or if they never even went to sleep. The river’s gonna feel good tomorrow. Why do you have that rubber band around your wrist? It is not possible to drink enough water. Is your dog dreaming in his sleep?
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Man, where’d you find all that kindling? If you saw Orion’s belt that high above the horizon in the middle of September it had to be two a.m. Yeah, I had to wear ear plugs. Can kayaks leave a wake? Something absconded with the chips last night. What’s this spongy stuff? That guy slept in his van. I dreamt about box fans. What time are they picking us up? You can’t use that kind of pen on these notebooks. If it rains on your birthday that’s good luck, right? Those look like chigger bites to me. Almost nobody was wearing a mask. If you saw a reddish star that bright it was probably just Mars. It’ll go back up eventually. That fire’s going good now. Of course I brushed my teeth. Did you hear those ducks going at it in the middle of the night? Well, I’m supposed to wear a biteguard. It was worse inside the tent, believe me. I gargle if I can. Dogs actually shed a lot this time of the year. The whole thing was so stupid. Is he just going to keep going back and forth like that? Oh, that’s a cute mask. It’s amazing those things float. I don’t know, I think it’ll be fun. That was definitely an owl. What’s that movie where they all scramble like hell to get ready for the airport? You’re gonna have to get somebody back out here to take some photos. Hey, how easy is it to tear these things in two? Holler if you want a muffin. Did water get in there? Well, I was looking for my headlamp but it was one of those things where I needed my headlamp to find it. I’m in fine fiddle with an hour to spare. Those clouds do look pretty thick over there. I always travel with a couple of little soaps. Eh, I’ll sleep on the river...
The Writing of John B. Randall 