I have such good cousins. On the final weekend of my trip they offered to take me to Mexico. I had been intending to at least take a day trip to Tijuana from San Diego so the offer of a proper weekend away was great. I didn't bother with Tijuana when I was in San Diego, and two days after I got back to Long Beach from San Diego I was off to Rosarito, Mexico.

I saw 7am for the first time in a really long time. It was actually a nice crisp morning with a slight chill in the air but tinged with a sense of anticipation and excitement. Since I was staying at my cousin Adam's house, he and I were supposed to leave at 7:30am to get to my other cousin Mark's house where we were meeting the fourth member of our party posse, Ferg. At 7:30am I was dressed, packed and had breakfast. And that's the moment Adam reluctantly got out of bed. So we got there a bit late but Ferg was even later so it didn't matter. We set off in Ferg's big shiny BMW X5 with surf boards on the roof rack and tried to watch a DVD on the built-in system but the screen was too dark and the sound had a nasty whining added to it by the engine so it didn't work out.

At the border south of San Diego I was all ready with my passport and explanations for what I was going to be doing in Mexico and for how long. What actually happened was that we entered a checkpoint lane, similar to one at a toll booth on a highway, slowed to 10 mph and continued through into Mexico. I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition but I had expected at least some kind of cursory glance at my passport. We hadn't even been delayed going through, apart from slowing down.

On the other side we all concentrated on the signs but somehow we still missed one (I maintain that there was no sign) and ended up taking a slightly convoluted route around Tijuana to get to the highway. We followed the border fence, literally several metres from the car, for a while, and I could see across it back into the US, and the grass looked greener on the other side. On our side things were a lot more ramshackle and dusty.

The highway took us all the way to Rosarito and we stopped off to buy some meat for a BBQ. I was surprised that everywhere we went took US dollars as well as Mexican pesos and, luckily for us, people understood English quite well because none of us had good Spanish. Our rented condo was 10 km south of Rosarito in a small complex. The condo was amazing and just out the back was a shared pool and hot tub, and down some steps was a beach, complete with a good surfing break. The complex was mostly deserted the whole time so there was never any competition for the pool or much noise.

We spent a lot of time chilling and drinking beer. The others had a go at surfing. I stuck to bobbing around in the pool, after testing the ocean with my legs and finding it quite chilly. We watched very little TV but we did play poker using the army pieces from a Risk board game as chips. The weather every day was perfect - it started foggy but by midday it was blue skies and bright sun. The temperature was warm enough to be going around in swimming shorts but in the evenings, after the sun went down, it really warranted trousers and a sweater.

Both Friday and Saturday evenings we got a taxi into Rosarito and enjoyed the bars. It was pretty dead, because it is relatively late in the year now. They're really set up for tourists, which is good, and the drinks were quite cheap, which is better. We had planned on eating out one night but we managed to buy far too much food so we just had to enjoy it at the condo - tacos one night and steak the second.

The place was as close to perfect as I have found yet - the weather, the condo, the pool, the good food, the plentiful beer and, for the guys I went with, the proximity to home - just three hours from where they live. That, of course, was on the way down. Coming back was a whole other experience: hundreds of cars jostling in several lanes to get up to and through the border into the US. We moved at a crawl for a good few miles, but that gave us a chance to watch the dozens of Mexicans walking between the lanes trying to sell things. We bought some churros from one. Later on, on the last few hundred yards leading up to the border, there were actual open shops on the right hand side where we, by chance, had ended up. That gave Adam a chance to wind down his window and haggle with a couple of Mexicans to get some souvenirs for his kids. He chose well, getting Mexican wrestling masks for the boys and a pretty Mexican dress for his daughter. But someone with less taste could buy a plethora of terrible items, including a ceramic sea turtle, wolf or Jesus-on-a-cross, or a plastic Spongebob Squarepants or Elmo. We laughed at them but it came back to taunt us when we passed a truck in which the occupants were carrying one of those awful ceramic wolves. I guess there are people out there buying this stuff. These are the people that should be denied entry into the United States.

And speaking of entering the US, I was getting ready with my passport and visa, and the proof of my imminent flight out of LA and was expecting a good questioning from the immigration official. So I was incredibly disappointed when we pulled up at our booth, Ferg flashed his passport at the guy who didn't even seem to look at it but just waved us through. I can understand why - we were four white guys in a car with surf boards on the roof, so it's obvious we're not Mexicans trying to jump the border and get in illegally. (Unlike Pedro and Maria tucked under the bags in our trunk.) It took us an extra hour to do the journey in reverse and the guys said that it was quieter than they'd seen it before and it's busy 24/7.

The border wasn't the only place we saw officials. On the highway from our condo into Rosarito there was a Mexican military checkpoint, and every vehicle heading north towards Rosarito had to stop and, if the armed soldier deemed it necessary, they would pull off for a thorough inspection. Rather than feel worried I was just glad that they were doing something about whatever problem it was they were doing something about. And we never had any problems going through it, either in a taxi or in the BMW on the way home.

I had a really great time in Rosarito and I'm glad I got the opportunity to see a different culture on my trip. I'm not going to pretend that I really know Mexico now, because I only saw one town really and that's something of a tourist spot. Not that it's a resort-like place because it's still pretty rough around the edges. It was interesting to me that it felt a lot like Spain (obviously, because of the historical connection). What I was not expecting was that once we crossed the border back into the US everything looked and felt so much better - nicer and cleaner. I can see why, even in my brief time, Mexicans can be so eager to get into the paradise of the United States, legally or otherwise. I am glad to be back but that's mainly because my flight home is leaving from Los Angeles so I need to be in the country for that.