And it’s about Tamales.
Which, honestly, I don’t want to do. It’s truly wonderful here.
There’s a street here called Guadalupe Andador. That’s the street with all the bars and restaurants and where you usually can find expats hanging out at the wine bar called La Viña de Bacco. Great bar. They give you tapas with every every order, and a glass of their house red costs $18 pesos! If we go there, we end up staying too long and eating far too much tapas and drinking far, far too much wine. There’s been a few nights where we were there so long, we forgot about dinner altogether. (It is also the scene of my one night of gastrointestinal horror… not due to their tapas, but due to a waitress giving us a free shot of tequila as we walked out the door. BIG mistake on my part.)
The whole time my father-in-law was here, every time he’d pass a vendor that sold churros, he’d say “Oh, I love churros. But I cannot eat them any more. But boy are they good.”
There are a lot of them here, but unlike in South America, these all seem friendly and cute, albeit dirty.
How much do I love the Mercado? MY GAWD I can’t even tell you.
But it’s been slow around here. We both have things we need to do and none of it is very fun. It’s also been rainy and cold so there’s not a whole lot of incentive to explore.
I have to post this.
My mom’s friend in Ohio has a very aggressive squirrel in her backyard.
I’m posting here.
I SHOULD be making some hard decisions about Huppy the Anarchist and print formats vs. web formats, but am I? No. Of course not. I’d rather talk about what it’s like to cook in a kitchen with a two-burner stove and only two small pans to work with.
During our walk the other day, we came upon San Cristóbal’s firehouse. Normally, we wouldn’t be all that curious about it, but since Huppy’s BFF (and I’m so going to get grief for calling him that) is a fireman in NOLA, we poked our heads in and took a look around.