After weeks of talk and being an armchair traveler with my Rough Guide to Mexico, we finally hit the road. The trolley in San Diego actually drops you off right at the border and after grabbing my obligatory coffee we started hiking the ramp up and over. There was, suprisingly, no line, and more suprisingly, no passport check. It is silly for Mexico to spend money posting guards checking all those crazy Americans coming to Mexico to stay illeagaly, but I was hoping for a Mexico passport stamp. Our stay in Tijuana was short and uneventful. I ate the most amazing
churros I've ever had on my life and hopped aboard a more comfortable than greyhound bus to
Ensenada.
We found a hotel right in the middle of downtown. After flinging our bags down we headed over to the local winery--Santo Tomas. It was packed with short-wearing, white tube socks up-pulling, camera clicking, plastic cup wine-chugging tourists. It was recommended we wait until they left.
Good thing we did. The second they were gone, the real glasses were brought out and our pourer, Alex, proceeded to take out for us great wines from the region. The first one I ended up buying was a white semidulche wine that was so full and smooth. Alejandro ended up picking a complex red we had later. We spent almost an hour tasting and buying while in that time 2 tour groups quickly came, tasted (or chugged) wine from little plastic cups and left. As Alex pulled out a 7th (or 8th? I lost count) wine to try--a rose', he gave us recommendations for places for dinner, wine festivals in the summer (in Mexico, who knew?), and espoused the virtues (yes, I said virtues) of Tijuana. He finished pouring us the rest of the bottle of rose' and we walked out signifigantly buzzed and ready to see Ensenada.
Other highlights of the day included getting asked every 5 seconds if we wanted to buy something, getting stared at by guys, even as I held Alejandro's hand, Los Tres Cabesas Plaza with 3 giant gold heads, the largest Mexican flag and eating amazing sushi with melted cheese on it from a make-shift tent at the port.
More on day two later . . .