Off the Mexican cliché

Understanding a Culture through Food - What food means in Mexico

nosoygringo — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 13:54:08 GMT

Speaking about Kim Jong-un days ago, I told a friend all the leader needs is a beer and some tacos.

Understanding a culture through its food? Kim might. So do us. Culinary expressions are inherent to Mexican genes. Perhaps too much, or we would not have such a disproportionate rate of obese and diabetic population, unfortunately. Or agua de Jamaica wouldn’t have been served at the reception for Queen Elizabeth, per order of our then-First Lady. Or we wouldn’t have watched president Calderon munching tacos de carnitas at some opening ceremony in Michoacan.

Mexico is a country that manages itself from whatever resources available. Cuisine reflects that fact. Mole, a signature dish, was born out of the need to make up something immediately, as unexpected guests arrived and cooks only had the ingredients that ultimately became the hallmark of culinary art, legend says.

Tacos too, have their cumulus of social symbolism. Perceptions here and there have it that Mexicans are lazy, simple, or ignorant. Much of that could be seen in a taco. No more than a tortilla and a filling –of endless variety- are together in what is undoubtedly the crown jewel of Mexico’s food array. But the social cumulus goes well beyond.

Weeks ago in Tijuana, while having her 3rd taco, my mother was approached by a 6 year-old, hungry, asking for money. She decided to buy him instead 2 tacos, and handed them to the boy. The boy had littler brothers, not far from the place, who were overlooked by an older sister; he went up to them, and divided the food, so each could have some. Lesson is, at least a taco could breach such barriers.

Foreigners can notice without much effort the prevailing inequality that still plagues the country. For the quintessential Mexican treat, however, there’s no such thing. Tacos are eaten by everyone. People in extreme poverty are said to eat a tortilla with nothing but beans or chile; the average citizen can find in street vendors tacos at 5, 10 or 15 pesos, depending on which corner of Mexico City you stand. The more affluent in San Pedro Garza García –the nation’s richest town- can order 3 grilled meat tacos with cheese for the sum of $145, an amount the vast majority of Mexicans find unaffordable.

It is certainly impossible to dissociate the concept of Mexicanhood from food. What we eat has literally shaped ourselves. From the Aztecs to our days, what we eat has been the basis and most solid element of Mexican identity.

Photos: Aviation-mania

nosoygringo — Sat, 23 Mar 2013 18:39:00 GMT

Despite how miserable the air travel experience can -more often than desired- be, there could always be room for some excitement, especially for AvGeeks like us.

Falling in love? Try not to landfall

nosoygringo — Sat, 3 Nov 2012 17:54:00 GMT

If you ever fell in love with a place, it surely wasn’t as charming as to literally make you fall –landfall, to be precise, from a bike.

Been to Lake Bled? The Slovene crown jewel, rest assured, will likely make you fall -in love, fortunately. If you had that obliged Bled signature cream cake –try at Slaščičarna Šmon- , then you are ready to begin your steps around the walking ring, either by the side of those boxy hotels or the overlooking castle.

I, counseled by my local friend, happened to be bike riding –too much beauty in such a short time had to be admired in a faster, burn-cake-calories way. That said, we embarked on the tour, but hey, one has to snap a few pictures, and being in such a photo-prone site, how could I miss the task. Stopping every 10 ft or so, I ended up slowing the whole party; at that rate, and dusk not far, we rushed to finish the lake’s circling trail.

Unaccustomed to going up & downhill in such an erratic and touristic manner, I eventually found myself far behind my friend. Who can you blame if not the enticing and exuberant scenery for my irrepressible will to capture it? That was, at the moment, my coup de foudre, meaning I was nothing but enchanted.

Or distracted from the more mundane task of actually riding a bike, I would soon and painfully realize. Going a bit downwards, a stroller, a mom and some toddler –who seemed to be trying his first steps on Bled as well, at that very moment-, sent me flying after hard-hitting the brakes, landing swiftly a couple yards away against that very own paved circuit I had been until moments before enjoying. With bruises, cuts, and both knees in pain, I felt wrecked, unable to stand, let alone ride back. Notwithstanding such condition, I had no choice but to get up, which I finally did when people helped me up –the kid’s mother witnessed the whole stunt, and was very apologetic; well ahead, my friend went back the trail to find me in pain, urging me to get better immediately, so to reach Radovljica ASAP. Somehow, forces were gathered, and so I set onto the wheels once again –walking wasn’t truly an option.

No more bike + photo duos took place in Slovenia.

Photos: Beauty by Bled

nosoygringo — Fri, 2 Nov 2012 23:10:00 GMT

My Scholarship entry - A local encounter that changed my life

nosoygringo — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 11:54:02 GMT

We had been cheated by the bus driver: 45 NTD over usual fare. An hour of unclear travel and we finally arrived to Shalun at 5 pm; my airport shuttle leaving at 8.

The way to the little-known beach had been full of tricky alleys, sampling in minutes locals’ lives. At Taipei’s outskirts, Danshui stands before the immense Pacific, with its shore much ignored by the tourists who rather roam its intense markets.

Taiwanese affability simply detached me from (my) reality. Waiting for the bus, an old lady approached me –struggling to figure out the fare- and gave me 2 coins: “President” said, pointing the face on the 5 NTD coin, and “Chiang Kai-shek” at the 10 NTD coin. On board, I was amused by the scene: women would offer me their seat. Through the 6-day trip, locals were as fascinating as food, being to an extreme kind: from offering me sweet frog eggs as I passed through markets, to stopping me to get a picture with a Mexican enjoying their gracious approach.

With my departure’s looming idea, my friends helped me cope with the overwhelming feeling. They decided to visit Shalun beach, a place overlooked by locals, which I then found to be splendid. We engaged on the long way; when arriving, a tranquil place appeared before me, a world apart from the bustling mood of few streets back. Sunset near, and the scenario was that of sweet melancholy taking over the site –and myself. Kids in the warm, shallow waters got me childhood flashbacks, holidaying with mom & dad. As I entered the water, a vaguely visible plane reminded me how fragile, yet enormously enjoyable moments are. Holding my breath underwater, there I was meeting again the pleasure of simple things.

Time took the lead. Precious seconds hopelessly ending. As I popped into the taxi back, I started thanking my friends’ warmth. But also locals’: said “Muchas gracias!” to the driver, then shook hands. The man was somehow touched at the gesture: made us a discount, from 290 to 270 NTD ride’s fare.