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Published: August 21st 2010
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Pinatas
20 de Noviembre market An early wakeup call shatters the silence. We take our time getting organised. No rush today. Breakfast is a piece of bread. Around 10:15 we walk down town to find the large toy store. It presents ok, two storeys and lots of stuff, but hard for the kids to get enthused when (a) they've spent all their $200 allowance for Mexico and (b) the stuff is all imported so as expensive as at home, and much the same stuff.
So next we head into the main market, the "20 de Novembre". This is gradually coming to life. I have a yearning for a "jugo", a juice, but the lady says "media hora": half an hour. It's only 10:30, but there are lots of stalls open. I really like this market. Produce is sort of in sections but still mixed up: fruits, chillies and sauces, drinks and food, florists, clothing both practical and decorative, souvenirs, local liqours, masks, acquariums. Each stall takes a few square meters of space in a building about the size of the Queen Victoria Market in Melbourne.
The goods climb up the walls and drape across the narrow alleys in colourful profusion. Smells: of all the
Afternoon escape
Hotel Fortin Plaza fruits and juices, piles of black and red chillies and mole sauces adding a wonderful chocolatey heady aroma. Flowers let off a delightful scent and are beautifully arranged in square-cubic shapes with a group of flowers erupting vertically. Cultural and decorative dresses range from off-white with read around the neck to an orgasm of colour and detail, rainbow flowers set against dark blue or black, all hung in layers up as high as they can go. Liquor shops are strangely restrained in the midst of the abundance, having tidy rows of cremas and mezcals with shop lighting.
Liam finds a wrestler's mask in a store but no proprietor? Other stores sell a wide range of ghoulish masks, Enormous Woodys and Ben10s stand on the ground, cowering under the other pinatas that hand above our heads all across the alleys around the pinata shop. I guess if you're sick of the Toy Story movies you could get your child the pinata Woody and gain satisfaction from seeing him battered to bits...
Turtles the size of our fifty cent coin scrabble in a centimeter of water, desparate to escapte the Siamese fighting fish that eye them from across the store.
After our splurge on Monday, and already with suitcases bursting at the seams (our best case, the light green one from italy looks like someone took a sledgehammer to it in the last Mex flights). We are not inspired to buy anything. A lady walking around with a large basket of red shavings of something tries to sell me some. She offers a pinch to taste. Salty mild chill. I decline, trying to imagine why she'd think an obvious gringo would want to buy cooking ingredients.
The kids are despondent, so we go into a lolly shop to get a small bag. Then a little bit more wandering and we end up at the Zocalo. I visit the post office where I find a parcel to Australia would cost $616/kg. A quick visit to the local bank for more cash, then we decide to find a small eating place. Problem is we can't tell from looking along the street which places serve Mexican, cheap. We know around the Zocalo there's plenty of places but we're after something simple. We end up back in the market, three blocks away, where Joseph eats a large pizza-sized tortilla for $2, I get some bakery items and we get fruit for snacks. Then taxi back to the hotel.
The boys and I hop into the pool, cavorting for a while in the sunshine (and getting a bit sunburnt). At one stage I'm giving seahorse rides and as I duck under water I hear a voice, as if from the water "You are a fish." Very eery.
Persistent honking of horns from the main road distracts me, so I look over the wall. Looks at first like a bus has stalled across the intersection, then I notice there's buses parked all over the intersection, effectively blocking it. Yep, bus drivers are on strike and they've gridlocked the city. As the afternoon unfolds, cars and other vehicles find ways of getting elsewhere and the streets empty. We were going to just mellow in our room, so this provides light entertainment although not much happens once the traffic has left.
By 6pm nothing has changed so dinner is in the hotel's restuarant "Los Tulipanes". Their a-la-carte menu is varied: they offer "pulpo" octopus, "camarones" shrimp, lasagna and other dishes. Ky goes for the lasagna, Liam and Joseph the "Hamburguesa con queso", hamburgers with cheese. I have the Tampiquenas, a mexican dish of beef with beans, guacamole, tortillas etc. While waiting for the meal we keep an eye on a truck full of soldiers that has pulled up by the intersection. The meal arrives, nicely decorated in a semi-gourmet style, and tastes great. The boys ditch the salad from their burgers. Always avoiding the green stuff. They'll probably end up vegetarians like their Aunty Jas who used to refused all veges except peas. During dinner "Liam, if you're a vampire, where's the only place you can't hide?" Answer: "The Stinking Rose" (ref the San Francisco restaurant).
We also sample the desserts. Very nice.
The buses all clear out shortly after 8, and the army guys disappear also.
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