Vagabonding here and there

No way. They must be kidding me. How on earth could those guys just shovel in mountains of picadillo wrapped in a corn pancake so rapidly? That is the baffling thought zipping through my mind back and forward at the sight of Mexican chaps having lunch in a kind of saloon in San Antonio. A “kind of”, because there isn’t a hint of at least one menacing and glamorous TVstar-like cowboy sitting on the stool, ordering pint after pint and gazing threateningly all around. In fact, alas, it is not a western shooting ground with Clint Eastwood either who would be concealing himself behind an enormous plate of Tex-Mex lunch. Albeit, who knows, folks. So stop moaning for French fries and burgers (if only!), watch others and beat the record of chalupa eaters. So, here’s the puzzle. Take a freshly baked chalupa, put some tasty smelling rice as well as not that tasty smelling beans, an awful lot of picadillo meat and dress it all in salsa. Usually when I hear the word “salsa”, I start shaking my hips at the drop of hat and humming some Oscar D’Leon songs. What a pleasure to realize that all my dance appetite and D’Leon’s passion look like a mix of tomatoes, chilies, garlic and parsley on the top of hash. The liaison with fervent dance needs no proof since it is bright red and fairly spicy. After adding some cheese to this Mexican mountain of eatables, my plate deserves to be called Pico de Orizaba so far as it doesn’t forego the highest peak in Mexico. Mexican diners are watching with a risen brow expecting me to pick at my chalupa and nibble a couple of beans. With hidden Clint Eastwood or not, but I feel a movie tension rising to the highest point and tuck into my enormous Tex-Mex mix like I’ve been starving in the Mexican desert for ages. Now it is my observers’ time to exclaim “No way! How does this girl manage to keep on asking for extra picadillo and beans and perform salsa moves all at once?”