la día de los muertos

{L.A. Day of the Dead at Hollywood Forever Cemetery}

staycation, 3e jour

{Afternoon at The Huntington, tacos and margaritas at El Cóndor, and a stroll through Silverlake--with Lene!}

the birthplace of tequila

I find it disappointing how often cosmopolitanism doesn't represent that which is 'cultured', or 'worldly', or better yet, 'open minded'. Still we continue to use it so frequently, and with such vigor. Paris is cosmopolitan. New York is cosmopolitan. Guadalajara... ? The hierarchal distinction was on my mind a lot while visiting family in rural Mexico. As per usual, I blame my thesis research :).

Anyway. I've been back in the city of haute cuisine for a mere four days now, and I'm already craving street-side tacos; preferably the ones my parents and I stopped for on our way to "the city" (as my dad called it) over two weeks ago. Gosh those were good. Then again, I also recall being excited to be in Guadalajara as I enjoyed their deliciousness. Not because, as my mom argued, we've flown in and out dozens of times without having ever seen it, but rather because tenía ganas for a cosmopolitan dining experience.

Both of our bratty desires were appeased in our last 24 hours in Mexico. With the preloaded directions on my iPhone, I directed my dad to Perla Central, a cool boutique hotel my mom had booked last minute. Then, we walked to the historic center, took a bus tour, bought souvenir in Tlaquepaque, happy hour-ed with corn, queso, guacamole, and margaritas, and eventually, dined at Cocina 88.

Dinner was exquisite. Soon after arriving at the "turn-of-the-century mansion", a server came by our table and asked us to follow him. We chose a catch-of-the-day (for my mom and me) and a cut of beef (for my dad) from a butcher case. Next, we selected a wine straight from their wine cellar; our first Mexican wine. The live music began just as our appetizers arrived. The lime soup, in particular, was amazing. The singer and band were as well. After eating our meals, we sat there with coffee/tea just to keep listening.

"What a day", I reflected as we drove to the airport the following morning. We spent such a short amount of time well. The contrast of traditional and contemporary, wealth and... not, was incredible. It reminded me of How Tacos Explain Mexico's Labor Market.

In Mexico, it seems you are where you eat. Mexico City’s young professionals dine at a mix of modern, formal restaurants and old-school informal street stands. Investors are opening a new wave of world-class restaurants in many neighborhoods in Mexico’s capital city, targeting the growing budgets of the city’s upwardly mobile young professionals. But the formal economy isn’t robust enough to provide jobs for the entire workforce. Like meat in an over-stuffed taco, many people don’t fit into the formal sector and fall out to the sidelines.

I'm no expert of economics, but this trip and my research has me questioning so, so much. Tequila originated in the state of Jalisco for which Guadalajara is the capital. It's consumed all over the world. I happen to love it. But, tequila isn't comparable to wine. One is more respected than the other. And I suppose craft beer falls somewhere in the middle? Cosmopolitan food for thought maybe.

mi casa es su casa

Life seemed simpler in San Francisco; simpler, and yet harder, too. Every morning, my grandparents got up between 5 and 6am. We didn't sleep in much later, because of the roosters. My dad went out with my grandpa to milk the cows while my mom and I waited for my cousin. Then we walked. We strolled through the town, into the fields, and met more family for pajaretes--warm, frothy milk (straight from the cow) with powdered chocolate and a shot of alcohol. 'Twas a fun way to start the day in a good mood ;).

My grandma usually had almuerzo ready by the time we got home around 10, always spicy and savory: tortillas, beans, eggs and/or meat. It was all so, so satisfying with coffee and fresh orange juice. Then, we alternated visiting neighbors (family) with exploring.

While we were out, my grandma cleaned the houses and prepared the foods we'd bought at the market or from the butcher (my grandpa's cousin) for dinner that night. She had a young woman help her somewhat, but she insisted on being busy on her own.

Trust me, my mom and I really did try to help out when we got back. We ended up snacking on fruit and reading in the yard instead.

Soon enough, my dad and grandpa came home and it was time for dinner. At least one aunt and uncle would join us most nights, but on our last one, we hosted more than a dozen extended family members. There were frijoles, guacamole, tostadas, cabbage salad, salsa, tortillas, grilled steak, tequila, beer, and an endless amount of nostalgic stories for all. The scene was beyond heartwarming.

As it were, everyone worked their asses off during the day and relaxed with familiar faces in the evening. Food was hearty and homemade. I felt a magic in the connectedness of it all. I also, self-crtically, felt flojera. Though I've worked in New York and interned and TA-ed in Paris, I haven't had a job with long, physical hours... ever, really. I've only taken care of myself. And so, gosh, I couldn't have felt more privileged to be there; to be reminded how much community matters, no matter our ambition.