Perfect weather these days for being out and about, and I’m seeing lots of white people. It’s snowbird season.
Last year, the Canadian men were identifiable by their Tommy Bahama island shirts. This year, it’s something called the ‘muscle shirt.’ A step up from ‘wife beater.’ T-shirts with the sleeves cut off at the shoulder; haven’t seen much yet in the way of muscle; mostly soft pink flesh and armpit hair. Not something I want to see in a restaurant. But I’m behind in sartorial trends and burdened by social consciousness.
This morning, it’s off to desayuno in Salagua. A place called El Andariego Cecina Andariego de Yecapistla. At least I think that’s the name of the place. I was there once and remember it’s across the street from a guy with a goat cheese operation.
I have walked from my place in Santiago to Salagua, but it’s a trek and I’m not feeling up to it this morning. Fortunately, there is a city bus stop at the corner of my street and Blvd. Costero, or Miguel de la Madrid. And it’s a great place to frequent if you like people.
This stop rests under a large tree. It might be a huanacaxtle tree, but I’m not sure. It has a massive spread and offers a lot of shade; a low masonry wall, approximately bench height, surrounds it. People wait here for the city bus, taxis, and tuk-tuks.
Next to the stop is a coconut water concession. It’s a pickup truck full of coconuts and a folding table for condiments. The lady running the operation will chop open a coconut and hand you a straw. You can add some sweetened milk, ice, or some lemon; maybe some pineapple juice and some mango. Her husband works the neighborhoods. He’ll cut down your coconuts in exchange for being able to keep them. It’s a great business model, and they couldn’t ask for a better spot.
A lot of people these days are here to work the tourist season. They’ve come down from Colima or up from towns in Michoacán. They may rent a room or stay with a relative, but they will be gone in a couple of months, and they have no skin in the game. This is not
their city. Most of the people at this bus stop actually live here.
There are schoolteachers, students, construction workers, or masons with some tools in backpacks. A barber is going to his shop in Las Brisas, shop owners, and restaurant wait staff. The kind of people I consider to be the real gladiators of the world, the warriors and the people in the arena. They might appear humble and unremarkable, but when you hear their stories, you will realize how brightly their souls do burn. These are the people who keep this city alive.
So get out and walk around. Don’t worry about the language. Use what Spanish you know, these good people will use some English, and the magic will happen
