The Gringa Trail

Tijuana, MX

"Please be careful, I just saw three other women went missing in...", whatever worrisome thing my sister was going to say got cut off by the cellphone service gods and their support of my rather poorly planned-out adventure.

I did that weird little jump and shrug to hoist my massive 60 liter pack a little higher on my back and tightened the hip straps, and I think to myself that all great journeys start thus. Bruised hips from old packs you found at a Goodwill and a little back sweat. Good omens.

I check my phone, 3PM. "As good a time as any to jump into the great unknown," I think. Before stuffing my phone back into my fanny pack slung sideways across my chest, I shoot off one last text to Fletcher before I loose service for good.

"Hey, just got off the bus + getting ready to cross the boarder now. LOVE YOU!!" Send. "Wish you were coming with me!" But, I pause and recognize those words aren't true, just what I know he wishes were true. Backspace. "Miss you <3." Send.

And with that final swoosh sound I click my phone into airplane mode, pick up my small beat up Osprey backpack that I also bought secondhand and swing it into place across my chest, looking like a ragamuffin turtle with a shell on the top and bottom. Let the adventure begin, I whisper to myself as I start up the stairs and across the bridge into Tijuana, Mexico.

It strikes me just how wild it is that it's this easy to get into another country, shouldn't there be like, someone asking you why you're here or where you're going. But no, it was just as easy as walking out of the US, my home of the last 27 years, and into a whole new world, one that immediately smacks you in the face as you emerge into the daylight on the other side.

The first things to hit me were the sounds and the smells. A mix of barking dogs, honking car horns, traditional Mexican mariachi music and a baby crying all mingle into the room tone of my hearing. And a perfume amassed of delicious street food and sewage assaults my nose.

"Bienvanido a Mexico," read the sign above my head. I'd done it. I'd really done it. Just two steps across the boarder and I was already lit up with the sense of excitement I assume all great explorers feel at the outset of their voyage. My viking blood boils up--not that I actually had any as I was definitely mostly Irish/German--nonetheless, I felt an insatiable need to conquer the unknown. And that's exactly what I planned to do, or at least the unknown to me. Just like my backpacks—new to me. I suppose The Gringo Trail wasn't exactly unknown per say, but traveling down through Central America as a solo female traveler with all her possessions in the world loaded onto her back (and front) without really speaking any Spanish was still pretty badass, I assured myself.

"Una chingona," the bus driver had called me, when I told him what I was planning, making a mental note to Google translate that one later.

As I took in my surroundings I was bombarded with multiple little children shoving all kinds of food and trinkets in my face. "Dos por cinco! Dos por cinco!" This adorable little girl in all pink kept yelling up at me as she trotted along by my side. "No gracias," I think I whispered 1000 ways by the time I made it across the street to a little cafe that was sporting a sign saying "FREE WIFI."

Barely able to squeeze between the chairs with my load, I quickly pulled out my phone and Google translated how to ask for the WIFI password. Stumbling over myself I managed to piece the sounds together as I caught the barista's eye, "Cual es la contraseña, por favor?" Without looking at me, the barista points unenthused to my left. "The WIFI password is on the wall," he replied in perfect English.

Once I locate my hostel for the night on maps and load up the walking directions, my matcha latte with almond milk arrives. I wonder if matcha is a thing in Central America or if all the time I spent weaning myself off coffee would all be reversed as soon as I left the city. We'll find out! I sit sipping and decide to go ahead and purchase my bus ticket to Cabo San Lucas for the next morning. "Might as well go ahead and get everything squared away for tomorrow," I think, as I navigate to the ADO bus website, purchase my ticket.