Piggie-Glutton

I love food. Now that I'm rich (which you should understand to mean "no longer so poor that I can't afford flour") I decided to go out to dinner with my man candy last night. I'd been sick for two weeks and had finally won my stomach back from the Dark Side. Thus I had already eaten all the food in the house, and there was nothing left for dinner except a box of corn starch and some weird fruit drink that Hernan likes. I do not enjoy fruit drink, and the corn starch was a little dry, so when Hernan got home I told him we were going out.

We don't go out much, on account of the poverty, but having people bring me delicious food is one of my favorite things in this great world or ours.

We headed to Ajijic, where there are many restaurants, and tried a new place that had been recommended to us. We ordered drinks and a pizza and then devoured the complementary bowl of popcorn. When the pizza arrived, we exchanged looks because it clearly would not be enough. We had already waited a good while for it, so ordering another wasn't going to work.

"Let's stop for tacos on the way home." I said while stuffing a cracker-sized "slice" into my mouth.

"Yeah, we're going to the place on the highway."

"Good. That's what I had in mind."

Fifteen minutes later Hernan had a plate of tacos and I had two tortas. The pizza was a tasty appetizer.

Small-portion restaurants are such teases. They should really put a warning on the menu, or preferably at the entrance, "Caution: We serve teeny-tiny portions fit only for people who don't like food very much. One order wouldn't even satisfy your seven month-old giganto-baby. Be advised that if you are a piggie-glutton you will need to order three or four dishes. Five, if you're a nursing mom. Six, if you're nursing a giganto-baby. Thank you."

Wal-Mart Campaign | International Labor Rights Forum

Wal-Mart Campaign | International Labor Rights Forum

Posted using ShareThis

Roughly a year ago Walmart opened up down here in San Antonio, outside of Ajijic. While many expats rejoiced, Hernan and I groaned.

When we say we miss things about the States, we mean our friends, our jobs, and dark beer. We don't mean big box stores that abuse their workers. That's part of American culture I'm not pleased to see is gaining ground in Mexico.

What I didn't realize is that Walmart de México seems to also own Bodega Aurrerá, Superama, Sam's Club, Suburbia, and Vips.

According to the website, "for the seventh year in a row [Walmart de México] was recognized as a Socially Responsible Company by the Mexican Philanthropy Center". So I looked at the Mexican Philanthropy Center's website, and found that "Philanthropic Institutions" are determined by "voluntary self-evaluation and self-regulation". Weak.

Beer

Big news! There is a microbrewery. Yes. In Ajijic. It's new. I don't know if it's any good. I hope they have something dark, and actually dark, not these so-called "dark" lies like Negra Modelo.

We tried to go today, but they're closed Sundays. Soon.

This is big. Microbreweries are not exactly big in Mexico. In the stores, mostly all you can buy is Mexican beer. Coronas, Modelos, Estrella... I'm holding out hope for a nice, full oatmeal stout. I can slip one in between nursing sessions, right?

My New Best Friend

As some of you may know, I find life in San Juan Cosalá very lonely. This is because I have no friends here. I mostly just have Hernan, who’s always busy, and my mother-in-law, who spends her free time watching telanovelas (morning, afternoon, and night).

My efforts to meet people have all failed. I find this very frustrating. Part of the problem, I believe, is that a general rule here in town is that men and women cannot be friends. It’s not that it isn’t allowed, it’s that it is considered an impossibility. And since everyone is up in everyone else’s business here, a brief conversation between unrelated men and women rapidly becomes the town scandal of infidelity. And so, when Hernan goes out with his friends, I’m never invited. And keep in mind that in this town there are still plenty who would assume any woman who would set foot in a bar (if we had one in town) would be a woman of loose morals. It’s fantastic.

I guess it's a good thing I've been abstaining from the bottle for the baby's sake, or I'd be sure to be considered the town floozy.

As for women – I haven’t figured out how to meet them. I think they spend most of their time in their homes with their children. Maybe when I have a child of my own I can go door to door and make friends by bonding over diapers. I really may get that desperate.

So I was pretty stoked today when I was invited to have lunch with a woman in Ajijic. She’s an American woman I met when I had her young son in one of my classes at Tohui (http://muestras.netcommerce.com.mx/kindertohui/default.asp), where I briefly worked as a child wrangler.

She lives in a lovely area of Ajijic where they have sidewalks and trees. I might start spending time in that neighborhood just because it's so much more pleasant than where I live.

I had a wonderful time doing these things: eating tofu sloppy joes, speaking in English, feeling understood. It was great. I think I even pulled off the afternoon without shouting how excited I was to have a friend, though I suppose it could have slipped out with my notice.

I hope this woman is prepared to be made into my new best friend. She may not know what she’s gotten herself into. I’m pretty desperate for company (hi, I'm blogging) and also she admitted to regularly making ice cream. How could I not become her stalker?

It was also a good day because the bus I rode out to Ajijic was bumping Bob Marley and UB40, which was just a fun change from the banda that the drivers usually play. Also, I should mention the glow in the dark Jesus stickers on the bus ceiling.

Café Grano

A rather nice place to pass one's time is Café Grano (I think that's what it's called), an organic coffee house near the plaza in Ajijic. Organic coffee from the bean - such a delight in a world in which most people drink instant nescafe. It's distressing to see so much nescafe in a country where coffee grows. It's like eating Taco Bell in Mexico, or Boboli in Italy, or drinking Two Buck Chuck in Napa: a damn shame.

So I grabbed a few books and parked myself today at a street-side table, where I could watch all the mass-goers come and go at the stone church across the street. I enjoyed the morning a great deal, but as a mission to meet locals, I failed. Not usually a friendly-with-strangers type, I put on a pleasant face and looked up regularly to make eye contact. I even commented on someone's puppy, which is not the kind of thing I do. To no successful end. I met one chap who wanted to plug his band, and another fellow hit on me (I must not look that pregnaz yet), but no friends were made, nor even friendly banter exchanged.

Maybe I need more inviting occupation - the sort strangers feel inclined to comment on, such as sketching or tatting. Or I could borrow an adorable puppy. The only catch is that I'm not really so sure I'd want to make friends with people who'd walk up to a total stranger and ask what they're drawing. It seems kind of rude.

So what's the secret? Do I have to join the quilting club or volunteer at the orphanage (I am considering doing both, actually) just to meet some people? Is this what it's like trying to find a date? I smiled at the baristas so many times I felt like the sleezy guy at the bar that won't stop making oggly faces.

At least the coffee was really good. I'll probably be back tomorrow.