I went to to Tijuana this past week. Going for the day while my father had a business trip. I was sick, tired, and emotionally drained. I had called out of work and went down with my mom for the day. It was all nice and fine, until we spoke of a conversation that irritated me and we argued about it for quite some time. I began to think "I should have stayed home," but let myself cool off and went on with the day. By the time we crossed the border I was ready for a new adventure. I was excited to see what the day was going to bring. My father dropped my mom and I off by Tijuana Centro and we walked across the bridge into the city. My mom was born in the U.S. but when her mother remarried they bought a house in Tijuana and they all moved back down there together. As we walked over this bridge in the hot sun, she began to tell me that she would walk from her house, over the bridge and take a two hour bus ride to San Diego High School every day. I couldn't imagine how that must have been at fourteen and fifteen-years-old. We retraced her steps and it was as if I took a step back into a day in her life, I was taking in every moment. I was amazed at everything I saw. I wanted to enjoy the day and see Mexico for myself. I know I have mentioned before that I've been to Mexico a few times, but never like this. We would usually go when I was little to a hall or to my grandparents house (the handful of times i've been there) and stay for a few hours then leave. Now that i'm older it was finally time to explore. Once we walked across we found ourselves in the little square where the restaurants, shops, and dozens of people were. As we walked through, I could feel the eyes of the people around us. Although we may look hispanic, we stuck out like sore thumbs. People could tell we weren't from there, and I felt nothing but judgement. It was an uneasy feeling, but I chose to ignore it. We walked through until we found a little restaurant and sat down to eat. We also found the little pop firecrackers and began to scare the many Asian tourists that walked past. We had fun and not a care in the world. As we were waiting for our food, at the table behind us sat these two guys. They both looked American and definitely were down there for some fun times. As I continued to browse my phone and such my mother nudges me and says "they're speaking sign language." As I looked up, I saw they were signing back and forth. I have such a strong heart for people who sign and are hard of hearing. It really gets to me because my best friend is deaf and no one had ever learned to sign to help her, so I felt I needed to. I took two semesters in college and was pretty fluent. Now being out of these courses I haven't been practicing as much. As I saw them struggling to communicate to the waiter about what they wanted I began to get frustrated. After sometime they were able to order and were enjoying some drinks my mother tried to smile and say something to them. Before I knew it I was signing with them and we were all conversing for a bit. I did my best to keep up but I was able to talk to them for a while. They were so happy and grateful that we were talking with them afterward. It made me feel really good to show them that they aren't alone. Once we said our goodbyes my mother and I continued our journey into the main cathedral they have down there. It was beautiful from the outside and even prettier inside. I found myself wondering why there wasn't as much artwork as there has been in others I've seen. As my mom and I walked in and wandered around we found this one man who appeared to be one of the refugees that had been brought to Mexico with many others some months back. As we walked past him, he held a rosary in his hand and he was praying in English, pleading with God. A few rows back from him, looked to be a man who crying out to God in despair. My mom and I saw them both and we began to tear up. To think of what they were asking God for, to think that they have their own struggles, it was heartbreaking. We prayed for them and the others in the church as we headed out. I can still see those men in my mind. From there my mother began to tell me that the church my dad's parents were married in was only a few blocks away. I asked her to take me there, and she did. We walked three blocks from where the cathedral was to the church. I had never known the story of my grandparents because they are divorced now and don't speak about it as much. I have been so curious of my past for so long that as soon as m mother mentioned it, I knew I wanted to see it. It was a beautiful church, I felt as though I was apart of the history. To think of the memories that were made in this place. I wondered so many things while standing there. Like whether my grandparents thought that day that so many years later they would find themselves out of love with the person they committed their lives to. If they would have known, would they have gone back and changed it? Could they have moved past these regrets? All these thoughts, all these questions, I'll never get the answers to. From there we took a bus to this cemetery that held the tomb of Juan Soldado. The story my mother told me about him isn't entirely accurate I don't think. The main point however is that, he was soldier who was accused of raping a girl. He said that he didn't do it, but because they found her dress or blood on him that was hers they believed he did it. When in reality he was trying to save her from the person committing the crime. Long story short, they killed him, and after sometime people began to see him appear all over the place. It came out some time after that he was innocent and so because of him being killed an innocent man he was then petitioned to become a Saint. Many people began to pray to him for miracles and and they would happen. So the legend goes that those who pray to him will get their miracle. His tomb now is filled with the plaques of those who have had answered prayers from him. They thank him for healing their mother, bringing their son back home, and saving their little girl. They find some hope within him. Being a Christian, I don't believe in other people like I would God, but I also don't know how to explain this. I believe these people have had answered prayer, but I don't believe it is because of this martyred soldier. It was amazing to see the legend and to see the tomb of the real soldier. After this my mother and I took a cab to my aunt's house in Playas, met with her and my cousins, went to eat, to the beach, then back to their place to wait for my dad to meet us there. We got lost, had some great food, and explored. It was an adventure, we didn't know where we would end up. I enjoyed this day so much. I can't even begin to tell you how good it felt to just not care. To not stress about what you needed to do next, to forget the world you live in for just a few hours and enjoy life and go with the flow. I spent the day with my mother laughing and talking. We did more that day together than we had in a long time, and I cherished every moment.
I keep hearing the phrase "sometimes you need to look back to be able to move forward" and honestly, it's true. I still feel lost, I still feel like I don't know who I am, and part of it is seeing and appreciating where I come from. To see the beauty of the world that made me. I find myself grateful for the sacrifices my family has made. Had it not been for my great grandparents coming from Mexico to the States, my life would be totally different. I am grateful for the life I have, but I also celebrate the lives of those before me.
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AuthorReggie is a college gradute with a degree in English. She loves traveling and hopes to one day stay on the battle field for missions. Life is a book and everyday is an adventure, follow her on this journey and see the world through her eyes. Archives
November 2017
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