NationStates Jolt Archive

So, I've decided to live out the autumn of my life in Tijuana.

The squalor contrasts with the excess in much the same dichotomy of filth and luxury that makes Vegas such a starkly conflicted shit hole.

The streets of Zona Roja are decorated with young flesh for sale, and younger flesh hoping to survive long enough to be salable...

The smallest, the hungry ones, in pastel pinks and blues dulled by dirt and callousness, taught and learned quickly, the only thing left they have unsullied is their eyes.

Their eyes scream. They are everywhere, but every pair of pleading, pained, confused eyes...they all scream. They howl, help me. They wail, why is my life like this? But mostly they cry, hungry.

So, I've been giving them a tiny fraction of my whore money. The rest will find its way to a mexican child eventually, but I at least get something for it.

Anyway, there was a taxi driver behind Adelitas...it was late, I don't remember what time, time here is like Simon Green's Nightside, where its always 3 am....

His daughter was with him. As hot as it is here, she huddled as if cold. She sat in the front seat of her father's cab, as he chatted friends, looked for fares.

She didn't want to be seen, but her eyes, I tell you, her eyes were screaming.

I tried to give him a dollar. For your daughter, I said. He looked confused. She looks sad, I said. He was insulted. I walked away.

And it occurs to me, he might think I was trying to buy her.

And now I will live and die in a world where something like that probably happens often enough for his fear to make sense.

And tomorrow, when theirs eyes shout again, when I look away only to see them reflected in the dirty water, the neon lit windows, even in the next terrified gaze, I will see their story and think the same thing you might be thinking:

tl;dr

That sounds like the beginning of a bleak novel.

The thing is, that's just about how it is in Tijuana. I remember visiting there once with my husband and his parents. I was standing there holding my daughter's hand (she was two) and carrying my son (who was one) watching a girl, who couldn't have been more than 10, trying to convince my husband and his father to "do business" with her. This with me, my mother-in-law and my teenage sister-in-law standing right there. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law were furious, my father-in-law and husband were embarrassed. I felt hugely sorry for the girl and desparate to get out of there.

... I will see their story and think the same thing you might be thinking

...where to go to lunch?

I go to the same place every day, buy a paper and chat with the louche drunks on their 4th pint at 12.45pm.

Sometimes I just pop to the local coffee shop and grab a sandwich.

Sometimes I look at a menu and just wish someone might choose for me.

Sometimes I get tired of having to make constant decisions.

Who are you and what have you done to Hammarub you impostor? What happened to the parodied humor?

That sounds like the beginning of a bleak novel.

The thing is, that's just about how it is in Tijuana. I remember visiting there once with my husband and his parents. I was standing there holding my daughter's hand (she was two) and carrying my son (who was one) watching a girl, who couldn't have been more than 10, trying to convince my husband and his father to "do business" with her. This with me, my mother-in-law and my teenage sister-in-law standing right there. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law were furious, my father-in-law and husband were embarrassed. I felt hugely sorry for the girl and desparate to get out of there.

That's the place, alright.

At least you can drink the water in Vegas.

Reminds me of an anecdote my parents repeatedly tell me.

They were young and in a bar in Copenhagen when a gentleman came up to my parents and began repeatedly asking my father "How much?" while gesturing at my mother. Needless to say my father was incensed and stood up trying to clock the guy.


Turns out he was a copper and trying to ask how old my 4'11" mother was. The joys of language barriers.

At least you can drink the water in Vegas.

have you BEEN to vegas? It's like drinking out of a pool.

At least you can drink the water in Vegas.

Until Lake Mead runs dry, after which you can drink the sand in Vegas.

have you BEEN to vegas? It's like drinking out of a pool.

I suppose you drink water out of taps eh? Pools not fancy enough for you?

You don't come to Vegas to drink water.

I haven't seen any children for sale either.

We do have the majority of our water stored in fountains and pools though, which are full of children.

So draw your own conclusions.

have you BEEN to vegas? It's like drinking out of a pool.

Hey I didn't say it tasted good, I just said you can drink it without getting Montezuma's Revenge (or worse). To be honest, though, it tastes better than London water; that stuff has just the hint of brackishness that reminds you it came from the Thames.

As we all know, the only reason water is important is to prevent hangovers, which is something I've learned through a combination of experience, wild speculation and Wikipedia-verified rumors. Of course, if you drink mostly good vodka you should be alright, but otherwise it's better to be safe than sorry.

False advertising. I was expecting to laugh in this thread.

Who are you and what have you done to Hammarub you impostor? What happened to the parodied humor?

False advertising. I was expecting to laugh in this thread.
There's no pleasing some people.

Nicely written, Hammurab. Very pretty. Depressing as shit, but pretty. Like Mexico.

Why did I see this title and think that someone had stolen your credit card, then tried to buy a child online with it?

oh well, this is almost a weird.

Depressing? Granted, Hammurab wrote an interesting post about the principles of product placement, the service industry and consumer confusion in a lesser developed part of the world, but why does it bother so many people? Aren't anticapitalistic sentiments pretty much the same as terrorism these days, hm? Questions, questions, questions...

Note to self: When trying to help cold children, offer their parents money to buy a blanket for their child instead of just saying "this is for your child".

Note to self: When trying to help cold children, offer their parents money to buy a blanket for their child instead of just saying "this is for your child".

It would probably better just to buy the blanket and give it to them, saying "this is for your child." If you give them the money, they may decide to apply it to other priorities.

Oh man, depressing, I too was expecting a joke or punchline or something.

False advertising. I was expecting to laugh in this thread.
I laughed. Mainly at Barringtonia's reply, but still . . . laughter.

I know where my next vacation destination is.
;)

False advertising. I was expecting to laugh in this thread.

This. Damnit now Im sad.

UPDATE:

I have been deported, FROM Mexico, if you can believe that.

Evidently, you should not, while morose and a little drunk, walk up to the squad of army guys, who have black face masks, cartoonishly oversized weapons, and evidently some mandate to walk around the streets of Tijuana, and tell them that they should start, train, and lead an uprising.

I guess its an invitation to an invitation to leave the country.

Oh, and they took all the Tramadol we bought.

Jerks.

http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a140/anarchy1999/Music/JakeBlues.jpg

Your Wife, Your Children... Sell them to me!!

UPDATE:

I have been deported, FROM Mexico, if you can believe that.

Evidently, you should not, while morose and a little drunk, walk up to the squad of army guys, who have black face masks, cartoonishly oversized weapons, and evidently some mandate to walk around the streets of Tijuana, and tell them that they should start, train, and lead an uprising.

I guess its an invitation to an invitation to leave the country.

Oh, and they took all the Tramadol we bought.

Jerks.

I once told a policeman in Columbus, Ohio that since I was not a citizen of his country, the drink zoning laws did not apply to me and I would prefer to stay outside the rope thank you very much.

He actually put his hand on his gun.

I've since come to the conclusion that telling anything to anyone in uniform is a waste of time since they take it as an affront to the very power trip that puts them in a uniform.

I once told a policeman in Columbus, Ohio that since I was not a citizen of his country, the drink zoning laws did not apply to me and I would prefer to stay outside the rope thank you very much.

He actually put his hand on his gun.

I've since come to the conclusion that telling anything to anyone in uniform is a waste of time since they take it as an affront to the very power trip that puts them in a uniform.

Wow. To actually grip one's sidearm over a drink zoning law.

"PUT! THE MOJITO! DOWN! Don't make me-sir! SIR! I WILL FIRE ON YOU! DON'T TAKE THAT SIP! Just...just calm down sir, don't swallow-DON'T! BLAM BLAM BLAM!"

That'll teach you ingrates to respect authority! If I had my way, police vehicles would be equipped with miniguns and grenade launchers. Who's jaywalking now, huh?

I think Australian Police take lessons from the Mexicans.