Tijuana.

I was in San Diego the other day, then I walked across the border into a giant pharmacy. I think people call it Tijuana. Within five minutes of walking the streets of "historic" Tijuana I was offered Crystal Meth, my kind of city. Spray painted donkey's littered the streets. In between pharmacies were junk shops, selling varieties of pancho's with emblems of different sports teams, leather goods, ceramic knock off garbage, and usually also pills. Revolution street was like walking around in a bad trip. Thankfully we could simply weave through the maze of hustlers and pimps off into side streets and into the semi normalcy of the rest of the city. There were still stray dogs, and run down houses everywhere, but the mixed in elective surgeon and dentist store fronts seemed almost respectable in contrast to the seediness of Revolution. We did find an awesome little taqueria run by a really sweet woman and male cook. It was the first restaurant we found were we didn't get the sensation they were ripping us off hard or that was frequented by vomiting frat guys. I had an awesome Asada Torta, and a good cup of Horchata. It was all damn tasty. Other food we ate was some street fish tacos, which Wollin described as "boss," and also some Churros, whcih were wheel pushed out of a playdoh press into a fresh plastic litre bottle of oil. It was good. On our way back to the border we found a store that was underground and had a big sign above it that said "Subway Downtown" in big letters and then in small little letters "the store." Just so you know in case you find yourself inebriated wandering around the border, there is no subway in Tijuana.