More of Mexico, and Montecito burns.

Last weekend was a looong one, making this week short, which is a relief, but also not, because I have much schoolwork to do.  Five European girls and I seized the day given to us so kindly by the Veterans and went south.  I always thought of 'running to Mexico' as a very romantic concept.  It kind of is; there's nothing like an open grey freeway to make you feel like you're going somewhere.  But the actual border crossing with Tijuana is not nearly as windswept and barren as I would like.  I hoped you'd have to take some moth-eaten bus to a desk in the middle of a red sandy desert, with only huge cacti and a barbed wire fence for company.  There would be a little wooden shack with a little wooden desk and a little wooden man with a stamp, and a cardboard sign with an arrow saying 'Mexico'.  

But the largest border crossing in the world (I heard that somewhere, don't quote me) is an altar to sin and depravity, just like Tijuana itself.  It's covered in billboards advertising liquor and Viagra for the duty-free shopper, and fast food joints that have crept over the border.  The crossing itself is resembles the world's most confusing subway station, all grey concrete and inclining ramps.  I did see some dodgy looking men hanging around the overpass to the American side last time I was there, back in September.  Probably they didn't realise how awesomely stereotypical they were being, pursuing their strange ends in the shadows.

So, short summary of another country: ate a lot of food, tried and failed but hopefully improved my Spanish, rejoiced in the dirt and the noise.  Bought some fantastic boots with a lot of language confusion, had a haircut (happily the concept of a 'trim' is familiar to everyone).  Patronised a delicious establishment called Papas and Beer, a chain nightclub in Baja California Norte.  Huge overpriced drinks and the most enthusiastic bumping and grinding I've ever seen; and this whistling concept, where a male employee comes along with a whistle and points at some unsuspecting girl, who he then dances with inappropriately and takes photos with.  THEN he makes her drink this unknown substance, grabs her round the middle, puts his hand over her mouth and jerks her back violently; picks her up, spins her around over his shoulder, then jiggles her upside down.  I'm not sure what it's actually meant to do.  Possibly make the girl throw up.  Or just embarrass her.  Or both.  Although we did see one girl who seemed to enjoy it a lot.  They got Marissa just after we arrived, a beautiful, reserved and extremely cynical Dutch girl.  The look on her face will keep me laughing for weeks; but I'm worried it might have severely mentally damaged her, possibly for life.

We spent the Monday night back in San Diego, and on Tuesday I got to have a quick coffee with my friend Jesse who lives there.  I meet him in Egypt, and it feels so weird to be able to just have a normal coffee with a guy I haven't seen for so long.  San Diego officially has some of the world's best weather.  Caught the train back the same day, five hours of staring out as California rolls by.  Concrete, factories, parking lots and emptiness.  Near LA a group of young kids skating with blue hills and palm trees behind them.

It's started getting dark very early here, much earlier than at home.  It must be being closer to the equator, and daylight saving.  The sun sets at about five; I saw it from the eighth floor of the library today, an orange ball hanging above the sea, throwing last light on us.  The tree outside my window is still shedding its leaves - it must have so many!  Just like how the sky never runs out of rain.  I wonder if it will go quite bare for winter.

Winter seems to be taking its sweet time about it.  Today it was too hot to sit in the sun for long, and everyone's still in T-shirts.  Tonight is particularly balmy.  There's a fire out at Montecito, burning up the rich people's homes.  It's not that close to us, not close enough to worry, but if we get evacuated maybe I won't have to take my tests.