Recuerdo que cuando tenía cuatro años ibamos a llevar a mi madrina de compras a Tijuana pero en el camino se dieron cuenta que no traía su pasaporte y siendo ella de Australia mis padres temieron que podría tener problemas al regreso por lo que a llegar a San Ysidro decidieron volver y empecé a llorar a darme cuenta que no ibamos a ir a la ciudad que a ese edad para mi representaba un lugar de juguetes de madera, titeres, del encanto de un lenguaje diferente al mio, o como dicen los antropologos, el misterio del otro.

I remember when I was four years old we went to take my godmother shopping in Tijuana but on the road we realized that she was not carrying her passport and since she was from Australia my parents were worried that she might have problems coming back and so when we arrived at San Ysidro they decided to turn back and I began to weep when I understood we were not going to go to the city which at that age was already for me a place of wooden toys, puppets, of enchantment of another language than mine, or, as the anthropologists say, the mystery of the other.