We have been here six weeks today. And today is the first time we have ventured to the Llano on a Friday. Why is this significant you ask? Because the Llano on Friday is a swarming anthill after an 8 year old kicks it. It's the high school hallway when the 3 o'clock bell rings. It's a festive, crowded, aromatic, and all around delightful experience. We made this trip primarily because I had never gotten to make it before, but also because we had some things in mind that we wanted to bring back to our friends and family to share a piece of what has been a marvelous adventure to Mexico.
We made a pit stop at the church, to meet Jose so that he could show us where the bottle store was. He took us just a few blocks to the miniature equivalent of The Container Store. We purchased tiny little squirt bottles which would become our swords and daggers in the Guerra de Pintura. Jose had to leave to take his raw meat home, and so we parted ways and headed for the park.
En route Victor rode up behind us on his motorcycle, calling out "Sack Attack" (Zach Attack for those of you who might not be able to translate such spanglish). We said what would be goodbye, he wasn't going to be able to come on Saturday or Sunday, and he rode off into... a red light. We passed him (walking on the sidewalk) and waved again. We rounded the corner and there it was essence of taco and the sound of many voices and laughter. There were tents everywhere. Vendors were selling everything from clothes to raw meet to jewelry. Our first stop was a taco stand. Not the average street stand though, this baby was well equip for mass production. There was a guy manning the grill full of huge slabs of beef and pork. Two guys were filling orders, another was fanning the smoke, another two were taking money and orders, and yet another still was chopping veggies and limes. The line moved relatively fast. There were some kids in front of us with school uniforms on, and many families with all ages of children. I had pork tacos, Zach had a few of pork and a few beef. It was DELICIOUS. Tacos are on a small corn tortilla (about the circumference of a wide coffee cup) and have cilantro rice and meat in them. Nothing else. The meat is grilled to perfection and it tastes outstanding just by itself. It is customary to squeeze fresh lime juice over the meet, and pour some salsa on as well. But that is it. Zach ordered a coffee flavored drink that tasted kind of like a frappuccino.
Our first turn out of the stand took us down the only short row of tents. We walked around to where the bulk of the activity was and met a guy from Argentina selling jewelry. He has been away from his family for a year and 8 months just traveling around Central America and now Mexico. He asked us about going to the States, he was thinking he might venture up to California, but at this point he thought it was too expensive. Zach talked to him about the book he was reading, and he was intrigued to hear about Zach's Anthropology background. He was a Spanish speaking Randal Gabriel, in every sense. We browsed around, found some beads for Zach's new Rastas, and some incense and tons of things to look at. Our feet were worn and Zach's Spanish was tired so we decided to trek back to the church to rest before bible study. After not too long the men showed up (just Miguel and Jose) and they studied.
After class we went in the rain with Gerardo, Alma Rosa and Toti for more tacos. Gerardo drives like a bat out of Hades, and can't see worth beans. Alma Rosa and I were giggling at him from the back seat and he asked me: "Kimberly can you see that license plate in front of us" I read him the combination of numbers and letters, to which he replied "Ah, but can you see that Mosquito on the number four." He is quite the joker. We made it safe, dined well, drank a liter of club soda with fresh strawberries, were invited to Alma Rosa's birthday the next day, and even made it through the mud without drowning or getting stuck. Our weary bones laid to sleep with great expectations for the day to come.
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