“The men in gray,” as they referred to Wackenhut. “Those guys are way worse than the guys in green,” meaning the federal agents. “They hit you and always yell at you.”
“The cops mess with us. The thieves mess with us. Everybody messes with us.”
I was hobbling back from the store with a liter of milk, when I saw three young men sitting on the steps in front of a house in my Tijuana neighborhood. My friend Trini’s son lives in that house. He was supposed to be renting out part of it to one other guy, but something must have happened to change that. Another neighbor has a nephew crashing on his property. I have no problems with any of this, but when Trini’s son saw me, he came outside and filled me in.
By John Edward Rangel, May 4, 2011 | Read full article
"We stopped being afraid of what was happening."
“The Tijuana nightlife has not only changed,” says Jackson, “but it has grown with the locals and the tourists. We fought the drug war by partying, meaning we stopped being afraid of what was happening. We wanted to stop being our own hostages, so we started going out. People started creating their own events or bringing them from San Diego, in the case of Club Purple, which is open to the 18-and-up crowd and goes late.
By Chad Deal, May 11, 2011 | Read full article
Glad to be gone.
In March 2003, when Elizabeth Gonzalez was 17, she paid a coyote $3000 to lead her across the Mexican border and into the United States.
Elizabeth was told that getting into the country would be simple — a fake ID would be provided. She was encouraged to dress up and to bring a suitcase filled with her things. Gonzalez left her home in Acapulco and traveled to the border town of Nogales, in Sonora, Mexico. From there, she would enter the United States.
By Siobhan Braun, Oct. 10, 2012 | Read full article
Hip and delicious. There’s no reason not to get in your car and go.
By Elizabeth Salaam, July 24, 2013 | Read full article
I was hit with the realization that half of everyone I know was either currently gallivanting around Mexico or had just returned. Yes, I’d seen articles in the New York Times about the burgeoning art scene in Tijuana, and in the Wall Street Journal and Condé Nast Traveler about the wine country of Valle de Guadalupe. But somehow, as hip and delicious as all that sounded, I’d never relinquished my fear. Here it was, Semana Santa (holy week), and I was home in Eastlake wondering when Mexico had stopped being a scary place to visit.
Why Tijuana? That’s what everybody asks me these days. I know. These days, the headlines about Tijuana feature murder, mayhem, and misery. But here’s the thing. These days, when nobody’s going to Tijuana, wouldn’t you know it? I can’t help thinking about Tijuana…
By Ed Bedford, Nov. 11, 2009 | Read full article
From a public safety standpoint, it truly doesn’t matter whether you believe Eddy was an innocent victim or a guilty one.
At 3:39 a.m. on January 7, 2007, Columbia Street was almost deserted. Little Italy had been plagued with car burglaries — “It got where you couldn’t drive too many of the streets down there without seeing broken glass in the morning,” said San Diego police officer Joel Schmid, so Schmid parked his patrol car and approached on foot when he noticed a pearl white Escalade stopped in the driveway of a condominium.
One door was slightly ajar, triggering the interior lights. Schmid could see shadows moving inside.
By Laura McNeal, April 7, 2010 | Read full article