Crossing the Mexican border on Foot

I presume it is close to midnight. We are waiting at the Tijuana Airport for our flight to Mexico City. We have already traveled by car, plane, bus, train, and taxi in such a short time.

On the train ride from San Diego to the Mexican border, we met a man named Enrique who grew up in Mexico during the sixties. We told him where we were headed and he opened up and talked about his experiences during the student protests in Mexico in 1968.

As we crossed the border by foot into Tijuana, I was utterly amazed at the fact Americans can cross freely into Mexico by merely walking through two unmanned turnstiles or by simply driving over tire shredders that don’t allow one to traverse in the opposite direction.

It seems Mexico welcomes everyone with open arms, but we are the iron fist or Berlin Wall of the West. What have we become?

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