The El Alamo Dorms

When we first drove into the empty parking lot of the El Alamo building, all of us knew we had found what we were looking for. We were collectively holding our breath when we walked through the doors, because we didn’t want to break the spell. We had been looking at buildings for quite a while, but this one was immediately special. We saw that the main offices were just being filled by another new tenant, who was moving in that very day, but there was a separate building, adjacent to the cafeteria and across an external walkway from the production area. We could immediately see ourselves there, with an eye on the other offices sometime in the future.

We had all worked together in another company and our conversations there had led us to believe that we could start our own company when our manufacturing jobs went ‘South’ in a very literal sense. That company had decided to move it’s operations to Tijuana and we weren’t interested in moving to that tainted city. We chose Mexicali because it seemed very quiet and non-threatening. The people were friendly and being the capital of Northern Baja California, it had technical schools and universities, hotels, shopping centers and most of the conveniences that we were used to in Southern California.

When we moved in, at the end of the year, we moved in to stay. We made the building our temporary home, until we were settled in Mexicali and had some other options. So we built shower stalls in each of the bathrooms and turned the offices into part time work stations and dorm rooms. I was the only woman so I got my own room, christened the “Barbie Suite” because of the two single pink and purple kids beds that were found just for me.  We lived there for almost a year, like squatters in our own building.  It was quite comfortable, really, except for the lack of hot water in the sinks.  We only plumbed the hot water into the two shower stalls.  It didn’t matter in the summer, when the cold water runs hot, but in the winter months, Mexicali is surprisingly cold and chilling to the bone.  It doesn’t rain much, but when it does the huge oversize drops beat down unmercifully.  The streets without drainage, and sometimes without asphalt, quickly flood and the holes fill with puddles of dark water.  Shallow lakes fill our parking lot and parts of the building with slippery pools.  Weather is one of the most noticeable aspects of life in Mexicali.  The seasons are vague and almost indistinguishable, except for the summer which is a blazing inferno for four to five months of every year.  Temperatures reach more than 120 degrees (F.) and even the spiders keep to their darkened lairs during the daytime.  About the only thing undaunted by the heat are the carnivorous crickets and the accursed pigeons (more about them later. . .) that are both ubiquitous and odious.

In the Beginning. . .

(What you will find here is a fictional account of my experiences in Mexico. I really have been commuting to Mexicali for over five years from my home in Long Beach, CA. I have been working with a small group to build a business there and we have invested all our money as well as our hearts and minds to make it a success. Not just for ourselves, but for our employees who we hope will carry it on when we no longer can and for the community that we have become a part of. Little by little, I will tell the story of how we came to the city, some of the people who helped us and others who did not, as well as the daily joys and frustrations of starting a company there.)
Mexicali is a typical Mexican city in many ways. A mix of small, individual shops and eateries with handpainted signs alongside modern hotels and mega supermarkets. Certain newer areas resemble the ubiquitous Southern California landscape of Walmart and Burger King, Costco and Carl's Jr. The border between Calexico, CA and Mexicali is separated more by the iron fence than the two cultures that seem to be almost indistinguishable on the surface. Aside from the long wait to drive from Mexico into the US. (never the other way), you can hardly tell one city from the other, except that Mexicali is much larger and considerably more appealing.
We drove into town five years ago to start up a new company in Mexicali, and have been there ever since. At first, we visited on weekends and whenever we could get away from our mundane jobs in LA. Finally, we found a building that sold itself to us at first sight and we were hooked. And I say that literally, as the sleazy realtor threw us the bait. He was a Quentin Tarantino character who would have been at home in the "Titty Twister" Bar. One of those guys whose bottom shirt button is either undone or gaping over his loose belly, shirttails partly out, a few unsavory food stains on the expensive but permanently wrinkled fabric. The family let him show the property to would be buyers to find out if there was any real interest. That way, they wouldn't waste their time with some gringos who were just shopping or fantasizing. When they found we were serious about the property, they sent in the older sister. A tall, grim woman with sinister dark eyes and slightly graying hair pulled back in a loose bun. She was dismissive of her younger, bumbling brother. With a laconic wave of her hand and an indulgent smile, it was obvious that his ramblings about the building were less than factual. She was the representative of the family and she was definitely going to make all the decisions. In spite of the obstacles to doing business in Mexico, of which there are many, and probably because she needed to get the property sold, we made a deal with them and the European’s who owned the property.
We moved in with nothing but a dream and our determination to build a world-class company that would immortalize us after we were gone. I know now, that without the strength of that dream, no new company would ever survive. Much of the time, that’s all there is to keep the seams from ripping and all the fairy-dust to blow away.