Monday was a bit of a lazy morning. As I was wandering on Sunday, I noticed a popular little lunch spot around the corner from our hotel that looked very "local" and seemed to specialize in tacos. I mentioned to Janet and we popped over for lunch. First sign of warning---one menu----dug out from somewhere near the register. None of the locals were using menus. Patrons included what appeared to be couples, families with young kids, working types both men and women, salesmen, and motorcycle messengers. We ordered beers and looked at the completely undecipherable menu. No chicken tacos but something called pollo tinga which they couldn't explain. No fish tacos, but we managed to order a fried whole fish for Janet. I tries to order beef tacos BUT...it turns out the whole place is devoted to tacos made from the head of the cow----my choices through sign language were cheek tacos OR tongue. I chose cheek. Good but.......sort of weird in texture. Very fatty, very soft. Janet's fish was good but a lot of bones. My tacos were....interesting. Two beers each and food. Less than $10.
Back to the room for reconnaissance and then we set off for the large market near the zocalo. The zocalo is old school cool. Same as it was 35 years ago just now everyone has a cell phone. Covered cafes ring the whole thing. Beautiful old church. Hordes of tourists....many Euros. Working classes. Professionals. Everything is being sold by somebody. Balloons, candy, toys, musicians, beggars, Indians, upper class dudes, schoolkids, cuddling teenagers, ancient people, cripples, the blind. A smorgasbord of humans. We duck into the market and it is overwhelming. Mezcal, flowers, clothing new and used, leather, textiles, jewelry, coffee, sweets, baked goods, chapulines, moles everywhere(the completely unique Oaxacan sauces), fish, beef, tripe, and rows of yellow plucked chickens with the head on----the smell of the chickens couple with the beef cheek sitting in my tummy made me, shall we say, slightly nauseous. We bought flowers for our room and some coffee. The place is amazing. Smells, sights, and sounds overwhelm in a good way. It reminded me of the old market in Saratov, Russia,....when I went for the first time, my friend Stepan Orlov helped me buy beans(facol in Russian). They have beans here too....but literally dozens of dried varieties. Beans are my thing. I will certainly be back. It occurs to me often now. I could live here.
We are back for a nap and then off to eat after some more time at the pool. Hotel advertises that no kids allowed under 13. Not true. Loud grandma. Loud grandpa. Loud mom. Loud male au-pair type. Quiet dad. Infernally loud and annoying 8 year old girl with lungs like a hippo is in the pool screaming for literally 5 hours. She is still there screaming and playing pool volleyball when we return in the evening. Ugh. They talk and act like they are the only humans on the planet. oh...and of course American.
Dinner is a great little mescal and dining place nearby. Great service. I have ribs with a sublime mole sauce. Liquor quarenta y tres for a nightcap. In bed by ten
Back to the room for reconnaissance and then we set off for the large market near the zocalo. The zocalo is old school cool. Same as it was 35 years ago just now everyone has a cell phone. Covered cafes ring the whole thing. Beautiful old church. Hordes of tourists....many Euros. Working classes. Professionals. Everything is being sold by somebody. Balloons, candy, toys, musicians, beggars, Indians, upper class dudes, schoolkids, cuddling teenagers, ancient people, cripples, the blind. A smorgasbord of humans. We duck into the market and it is overwhelming. Mezcal, flowers, clothing new and used, leather, textiles, jewelry, coffee, sweets, baked goods, chapulines, moles everywhere(the completely unique Oaxacan sauces), fish, beef, tripe, and rows of yellow plucked chickens with the head on----the smell of the chickens couple with the beef cheek sitting in my tummy made me, shall we say, slightly nauseous. We bought flowers for our room and some coffee. The place is amazing. Smells, sights, and sounds overwhelm in a good way. It reminded me of the old market in Saratov, Russia,....when I went for the first time, my friend Stepan Orlov helped me buy beans(facol in Russian). They have beans here too....but literally dozens of dried varieties. Beans are my thing. I will certainly be back. It occurs to me often now. I could live here.
We are back for a nap and then off to eat after some more time at the pool. Hotel advertises that no kids allowed under 13. Not true. Loud grandma. Loud grandpa. Loud mom. Loud male au-pair type. Quiet dad. Infernally loud and annoying 8 year old girl with lungs like a hippo is in the pool screaming for literally 5 hours. She is still there screaming and playing pool volleyball when we return in the evening. Ugh. They talk and act like they are the only humans on the planet. oh...and of course American.
Dinner is a great little mescal and dining place nearby. Great service. I have ribs with a sublime mole sauce. Liquor quarenta y tres for a nightcap. In bed by ten
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