Walmart

We started the day by driving to the Walmart around the corner to get some groceries. Mostly snacks and stuff for breakfast, but also ingredients for a few dinners. The produce section had some differences from what we were used to. There were way more varieties of fresh peppers. There were serranos, jalapenos, chili de arbols (which I had only ever seen dried before), bell peppers, and poblanos. They had nopales, a type of cactus, which Elizabeth asked if I knew how to cook. I told her I tried once before and it had turned out too bitter to eat. We bought some guavas, so that my inlaws could try them as they had never eaten it before.

After perusing the produce I went to look for a replacement pencil. They had no mechanical pencils, which I prefered to the analog variety since you didn’t have to carry around a sharpener. They had some old style pencils, but no sharpeners. I guess Mexicans mostly already owned sharpeners. Luckily there were some pre-sharpened pencils, which were pretty much like single use mechanical pencils.

Additionally we bought cases of water, kleenex, laundry detergent, and a single spice mix. The spice mix was mostly salt, pepper, tageen, and dried citrus I believe. I used it for all the cooking I did.

Mercado de San Juan

We brought the groceries back to the condo then drove the car to Mercado de San Juan, a market known for carrying exotic and unusual goods. As soon as I walked in, a guy gave me a sample of larvae, which were maybe deep fried. He had crickets for sale too. It tasted ok, I guess, but I couldn’t get the thought out of my head that I was eating a bug.

I walked around the market to see the different stalls. There were chickens being processed, whole donkeys hanging upside down, alligators half skinned, and fresh fish of many varieties, including a small shark. One stand was selling tequila with different types of bugs inside. One of the bottles even had a small snake inside.

There were many cheese stalls that gave free samples. At one of the cheese stalls all the employees had uniforms with the Israeli flag on it. One of the employees said the owner had family in Israel.

We got a lunch at one of the many stalls in the market that served cooked food. I got some tacos cooked on the griddle.

Everyone bought something different at the market. I bought some black tortillas, Elizabeth bought some eggs, Andy got candied fruit, and Lizy got some cheese and shrimp. Then we left the market and headed back to the condo. On the way home Elizabeth talked about how wonderful the market was and if she was Mexican she would set up a shop and work there. She liked that the people seemed happy and hardworking. To her honest hardworking people were the foundation for a good society.

There was one thing she didn’t understand about the market though. In Canada and the US all the meat being sold would be refrigerated, so it would last a few days. Here in this market nothing was refrigerated. And there was so much meat. Did they have to throw out large quantities of meat every day?

I didn’t have any answers her at the time and still don’t.

Evening in Condesa

We walked to East Condesa from our condo in West Condesa. On our walk, we saw two ice cream places with locations across the street from each other, competing for customers. We went into a store in a garage that had wares from Oaxacan villages (or so the she said). At the edge of a park, a man was selling roasted sweet potatoes.

“See it’s not just me that loves roasted sweet potatoes,” I said to Lizy.

We saw a cafe that just sold churros. I guess Mexicans don’t know the US, Canada rule that churros can only be sold at amusement parks, because this cafe was the busiest business in Condesa.

We went to dinner at a restaurant that had Oaxacan food, then we walked home. Lizy and her parents watched television, while I tried to figure out how cryptic crosswords worked so I could do the cryptic in the New Yorker.

Later that evening, I found myself struggling to go to sleep. I continued listening to the audiobook Parfit: A Philosopher and His Mission to Save Morality to calm my mind. It was a biography of the philosopher Derek Parfit. He also had trouble sleeping. His trick was to play classical music on his computer. The biographer described Parfit’s descriptions of France in his journal when he was 13. Maybe I should’ve started travel blogging earlier? Although, even if I had I don’t think I’d be writing as eloquently as thirteen year old Parfit.

I finally fell asleep at 3am.