They're good for you.
Saturday morning, I have no idea what I did. But for lunch, I went to a restaurant called La Biche Pobre (affectionately known as the Po' Bitch). I was scanning the menu... pretty typical Mexican fare. Then I saw them: chapulines. I knew I had to order them, but it still took me a couple of minutes to be sure; I really had no idea what to expect from smoked grasshoppers. Fíjate:
Mm, delicious. Thank God I had beer to drink with this. Actually, chapulines are rather tasty - taste just like chipotle. High in protein, too. Just stick 'em in a tortilla, toss on some salsa, and it's a meal. When they arrived (I'm not kidding here), a beam of light shone in through a high window and landed directly on the plate. I could hear the choir of angels singing in my mind. Chapulines. They say that if you eat chapulines, you are destined to return to Oaxaca. Maybe, but if I go back, it's for the chocolate, not some damn grasshoppers.
Afterwards, I walked down to the Zócalo. Bathrooms in México are like change in México - everybody has access to it but the tourists, and they're really stingy about it. I finally tracked one down, though. Afterwards, I walked over to a plaza where crews were setting up stages. One stage was already established, and a rock band was warming up there. The guitarist doodled the Beatles' "Norwegian Wood," which I happen to like. I clapped a little, and he gave me the classic rock-star point and nod. Nevermind the fact that nobody outside of Oaxaca has ever heard of him.
I wandered the city a bit more, and found a wee little church. I went in a lit two candles - one for my dad, one for my grandpa. I don't know why I do these things; I stopped being Catholic a looong time ago. I doubt you could say I ever was. Nevertheless, I have lit candles in five different countries.
Afterwards, I went back to the concert. It was getting ready to start, but some politicians were blathering on - apparently, it was a benefit concert for people in Chiapas who had been displaced. This went on for almost ten minutes, but in the distance I could hear the sound of a marching band. I was just about to the politicians when the marching band literally burst through the crowd, drowning out all other noise. See, the organizers of the concert had planned it on a religious festival day (which is every day in México), directly in front of Oaxaca's cathedral. The marching band was just part of a substantial procession that arrived and began (you guessed it) throwing things to the crowd. Needless to say, free stuff and marching bands will always trump political discourse (hm, maybe that could be my platform for president - free stuff and marching bands!), so the crowd surged over to pick up/ be pelted with candy and, strangely, plastic kitchen utensils. Miraculously, I didn't get hit by anything. Thank God they weren't throwing basketballs.
After awhile, the concert began. I listened for a bit, and then went off in search of tacos al pastor. "al pastor" means shepherd-style. Observe:
That's pork and a bit of turkey, I believe, with a bit of pineapple up top. The meat is slow-cooked on its rotisserie. When you order a taco al pastor, the guy (the best taquerías have a guy whose only job is to attend to the tower) will shave a little off the side and, if a true pro, use his knife to flick a bit of pineapple from the top, through two feet of air, and perfectly into the taco. Skill. These are the best tacos the world has ever known.
Unfortunately, they suck in Oaxaca, and there are very few good pastor places there. So I got a hot dog instead. Lame, I realize, but at least it was with jalapeños and salsa. Afterwards, I went back to the concert - they were playing a song called "De reversa" which is basically the Latin version of "Back Dat Ass Up." I kind of like it. All around the plaza, little kids were playing with these "balloons" that were essentially three-foot-long plastic bags filled with air. To enjoy such simple things, kids have to be either really smart or completely stupid. I can't decide which.
Mm, delicious. Thank God I had beer to drink with this. Actually, chapulines are rather tasty - taste just like chipotle. High in protein, too. Just stick 'em in a tortilla, toss on some salsa, and it's a meal. When they arrived (I'm not kidding here), a beam of light shone in through a high window and landed directly on the plate. I could hear the choir of angels singing in my mind. Chapulines. They say that if you eat chapulines, you are destined to return to Oaxaca. Maybe, but if I go back, it's for the chocolate, not some damn grasshoppers.
Afterwards, I walked down to the Zócalo. Bathrooms in México are like change in México - everybody has access to it but the tourists, and they're really stingy about it. I finally tracked one down, though. Afterwards, I walked over to a plaza where crews were setting up stages. One stage was already established, and a rock band was warming up there. The guitarist doodled the Beatles' "Norwegian Wood," which I happen to like. I clapped a little, and he gave me the classic rock-star point and nod. Nevermind the fact that nobody outside of Oaxaca has ever heard of him.
I wandered the city a bit more, and found a wee little church. I went in a lit two candles - one for my dad, one for my grandpa. I don't know why I do these things; I stopped being Catholic a looong time ago. I doubt you could say I ever was. Nevertheless, I have lit candles in five different countries.
Afterwards, I went back to the concert. It was getting ready to start, but some politicians were blathering on - apparently, it was a benefit concert for people in Chiapas who had been displaced. This went on for almost ten minutes, but in the distance I could hear the sound of a marching band. I was just about to the politicians when the marching band literally burst through the crowd, drowning out all other noise. See, the organizers of the concert had planned it on a religious festival day (which is every day in México), directly in front of Oaxaca's cathedral. The marching band was just part of a substantial procession that arrived and began (you guessed it) throwing things to the crowd. Needless to say, free stuff and marching bands will always trump political discourse (hm, maybe that could be my platform for president - free stuff and marching bands!), so the crowd surged over to pick up/ be pelted with candy and, strangely, plastic kitchen utensils. Miraculously, I didn't get hit by anything. Thank God they weren't throwing basketballs.
After awhile, the concert began. I listened for a bit, and then went off in search of tacos al pastor. "al pastor" means shepherd-style. Observe:
That's pork and a bit of turkey, I believe, with a bit of pineapple up top. The meat is slow-cooked on its rotisserie. When you order a taco al pastor, the guy (the best taquerías have a guy whose only job is to attend to the tower) will shave a little off the side and, if a true pro, use his knife to flick a bit of pineapple from the top, through two feet of air, and perfectly into the taco. Skill. These are the best tacos the world has ever known.
Unfortunately, they suck in Oaxaca, and there are very few good pastor places there. So I got a hot dog instead. Lame, I realize, but at least it was with jalapeños and salsa. Afterwards, I went back to the concert - they were playing a song called "De reversa" which is basically the Latin version of "Back Dat Ass Up." I kind of like it. All around the plaza, little kids were playing with these "balloons" that were essentially three-foot-long plastic bags filled with air. To enjoy such simple things, kids have to be either really smart or completely stupid. I can't decide which.
posted by Cobblestopped at
9:10 AM
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