Working on yesterday's story about border drug violence made me miss the days of working near Mexico. When I was a reporter for KTSM-TV in El Paso six years ago, one of the most favorite things I loved about my job was being able to cross into Ciudad Juarez for assignments.
I loved it. Once stepping across the border, it seemed the whole world would change around me. I would cross the border into the bustling, sometimes, grimy environment of Juarez to cover stories from drug cartel violence to water issues in the dusty outskirts of the city.
The way people drive in Juarez is starkly different too. It almost seems there are no rules on the road. Stops signs don't matter and seem just like suggestions. Being a pedestrian in Juarez often feels dangerous, like being stuck in a swarm of runaway, mad cattle hopped up on methamphetamine.
And then there's the poverty. Barefoot children selling gum like aggressive stock-traders attack tourists like killer bees. No sidewalks exist in some neighborhoods. Many of the roads are unpaved and electrical wires hang down from homes like black spaghetti. If a building code officer from the US walked through here, he would have a heart attack.
But this is what makes border life beautiful. It's life on the line where the struggle to make ends meet and the battle for identity remain constant.
Crossing into Palomas, Mexico on Wednesday made me miss my time at KTSM. It was a four hour drive from Albuquerque to the port of entry in Columbus, New Mexico. And while the characteristics of the border sometimes are indistinguishable on both sides of the line, I found it amazing once again how things change with a simple crossing.
The streets of Palomas are not paved, at least not most of them. Dogs walk around as if they are on their last leg of life. One dog I found looked like a zombie.

The city planning, it seems, has no plan--buildings are thrown together without thought.
But it's all beautiful and messy at the same time, kind of like an abstract painting.
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jeremyjojola.com
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