Pulque

Tony and I have done the washing, been to the bank, sorted our junk and done other mundane things. See, it is not all singing and dancing. Of course it took ages to do these things but we managed. The boys have skated and walked around town. We tried to sort out the phones but that looked like it might take hours in a queue.

The President is in town and so is the entire Mexican army and police force it seems. I have never seen so many military-security-protection-security force people in my life. I even saw an armoured guard protecting the beer truck (Corona actually) as it made its deliveries!!! There are caravans of cops, truckloads, processions, tidal waves. Mexicans seem to take little notice, but we are a bit freaked out. They are all armed with very serious weaponary and are wearing impressive protective gear. We, of course, are trying to be very good. That involves crossing with the lights, no spitting, heads down and eyes straight forward.

The boys discovered a pulqueria. This is a tiny hole-in-the-wall bar that sells beer made out of cactus. Traditionally, it is consumed by working people who cannot afford tequila. In the modern world, it is consumed by working people who cannot afford tequila and backpackers who want to be Mexican workers who cannot afford tequila. Nothing wrong with that! Unflavoured, it is thick, sweet, white and most importantly, costs $1 for a huge cup. In fruit flavours it costs $2. Actually it is not very alcoholic, but those who drink it, drink a lot if it. It is, no hint of a lie, also sold in buckets, yes pails, a la Jack and Jill.


The bar is an absolute classic. It has swinging doors, is absolutely packed (but there is always room for one more) and the atmosphere is paplable. On the bar is a bottomless stack of tortillas and salsa to which patrons help themselves. They were playing pretty good music, and because you are practically sitting on the knee of your fellow drinker, it only make sense to introduce yourself and start up a conversation. This is a real plus because it is not so easy to get into conversations with Mexican people. The people in the pub were two lecturers in political science, a young couple in the throes of early love, two other guys I could not quite identify and us. Josh and Charles think they have found the place in the world where they truely belong, so let them at it I say. They have plans that involve pails and I have vinegar and brown paper at the ready.

I could only get through half a cup and then I had to retire to the sidewalk. Now remember that Mexico is at high altitude and that I sufferred a little altitude sickness last time. Then, put me is a seriously crowded bar on a hot Mexican afternoon, give me half a drink (pineapple pulque to be precise), and you have a recipe for trouble. I did make it back to the hotel, but that is because it was only about 100 metres away. I had a lie down with a cold compress and recovered. I still feel a little dizzy and so will take it easy tomorrow.