What follows is an account of my recent trip into Tijuana, Mexico with a group of 36 other people mostly associated with BurlPres, a church in the Bay Area. While in Tijuana, we were camped out east of town for five nights. Together we built a basic but sturdy house for a family in need. The second half of the post comprises my Pack Notes, which functions as an alternative way of recounting the trip as I unpack all of what I brought back with me...
Read the full travelogue here...
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...
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...
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.
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...
What follows is a thorough, categorical examination of what I took with me to Tijuana when I traveled there on a mission trip with members of the Burlingame Presbyterian church this past July. I wrote this mostly for my own benefit, in order to pack smarter next time I travel, to Tijuana or to anywhere. Writing this out, which I did on the first full day I was back at home, also serves as a sort of trip debriefing. It's a different way for me to record an account of the trip, albeit in a more straightforward and less lyrical style than what I wrote while I was actually in Mexico (which can be found here)...
We're between mountains, like in Colorado, or Utah. Wall! Border wall. To our left, to the north. Contiguous. Iron? A rusty red. Eight feet high? It cuts into the hillside.
Suddenly it's a little greener. Wind in the palms. Some flattening out. By the looks of it, the playa at camp will be windy. Stones, boulders on the hillsides. I've lost sight of the wall as we've tended south.
This is a smooth road. Turning to the south. Large round boulders. Accesso planta dart. Windmill. This is the back way into camp. It has a rural feel but there's actually quite a few plants or factories back in here. The road has gotten very rocky. A metal structure manufacturer. Galvanization. A burned area. Car carcasse. Lots of old tires. A guy in a chair under the shade of a tree just looking out at the road. Railroad.
We take a right onto a much smoother, paved road. There are lots of cars stopped on the side of this road. There are canopies set up. Lots of them. Is it a market? We're close to camp. Turning right, I know this road. There's the old, snub-nosed flatbed lorry. The silo-like red cylinder lying on its side. Dust! At 14:42 we are at the Amor Hacienda Camp...
Oak tree at Lee-Vaughan Farm (photo courtesy Patrick Vaughan)
I know it knows we are here. As we talk about the wind it quiets off. It collects itself in the far corner of the field, takes a running start, launches at us again.
It seems to want something. I wonder if it takes as much pleasure in sending a tent flying as we take in seeing a tent on the move.
It translates a gunshot, it stokes the fire. It pries metal from the shed, it pulls the hat from your head.
It opens one door, slams another. It absconds with the coffee filters. It leaves dirt on the doorstep, it tries to speak in the trees.
It takes popcorn from the plate but doesn’t eat it. It takes twenty dollars from the ledge but doesn’t spend them. It loosens your hair in the air but it does not love you.
The wind is how hay stretches It is how rock changes color It is where the smoke goes
But at dusk the wind follows the light over the wide horizon. We unpack our things and lay them about like feathers.
As a fire burns we listen to a whip-poor-will sing into the still air of the night as it winnows its lonesome away.
Billy tending to a tent on the move (photo courtesy Patrick Vaughan)
Hotel lobby, the comings and goings of guests. I emailed a PDF of the house building plans to the front desk with a request that they print it for me. Information continues to trickle in, about what we will be doing. According to the itinerary Dan sent out to all of the participants by email, "This mission trip is an intergenerational trip" where we will be "building houses in a depressed area of Tijuana."
Last night Graham informed me he and I are in charge of Van 7. I thought that had an eponymous ring to it. "Van 7", like it's a movie, or at least there's a trailer for a putative thriller called "Van 7" where a couple of guys—brothers-in-law: one a pastor, the other an underachieving blogger—are part of a church group that goes into Mexico except their particular part of the group ends up getting lost, drives into a bad part of Tijuana, has to use their fledgling Spanish, a little bit of luck, and the grace of God to get out alive, et cetera. It's actually not a bad idea...
* The pillowcase. I wasn't happy with the resting place the lumpy pillowcase offered. It's not the pillowcase's fault. When I woke at night after I got the good air mat from Frank what woke me up was my sleeping mind's dissatisfaction with the lumpy pillowcase. It was lumpy, it was damp, it was full of dirty wadded-up clothes or my balled-up second towel. What ended up working the last night was to stuff just the bottom compartment of my backpack and then put the neck pillow on top of that. So forget the pillowcase.
* Backpacking airmats. Completely useless unless I can sleep on my back. What just gives me an everlasting chuckle is how somewhere during the first night as I was tossing and turning on my mat—and as Graham was tossing and turning on his—I heard him completely let the air out of his mat, like a mat assassination. I don't know if that is what he was trying to do, in some sort of "F this mat" move but as the air was going out I thought to myself, "We should probably move on from these mats..."
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