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.