This morning, I walked down Boulevard Madrid to Calle Juarez. I was headed for desayuno at Lulu’s with plans for coffee at Puerto Café afterward. I almost made it, but was distracted by something shiny at a nearby small appliance repair shop. I struck up a conversation with the owner and, before long, was invited back into the living quarters behind the shop for menudo and fresh tortillas. I was reminded of an experience from many years ago.
I was taking a hundred-tonner from San Pedro, California, to Panama, with enough fuel for a direct trip with no planned stops. It was one of those get it there, hand it over to the owner’s agent, and fly home kind of transfers.
However, the boat had other ideas and decided to have a ‘hissy fit’ just south of Cabo San Lucas. That meant a stopover at a maintenance facility in Mazatlan. I figured they’d be set up to work on big shrimp boats, with machine shops and a chandlery or two.
It was about eight in the evening by the time my crew got us snugged up and tied off to wharf space, and I needed pesos. Men in uniforms would be showing up very soon in want of documents and money.
Banks were nowhere to be seen and wouldn’t be open this late. There were no restaurants in this commercial zone, and most shops were already closed and gated over. There was, however, one shop that appeared open. It was not gated over yet, and I could see a light through the window.
A small sign projected out from above the door and hung from crudely fashioned ironwork. It was a blue Star of David on a square white enameled steel panel not more than fourteen inches square. I gave the window a couple of back-knuckled knocks, not wanting to be overly aggressive, and in less than a second, the front door opened.
A tall, swarthy man stood before me. He introduced himself as the proprietor and invited me in; not only could he change my money – that was his business.
In a short time, I was upstairs having dinner with his family. I got a history lesson on the expulsion of Sephardic Jews from Spain in the 1400s, the migration to Northern Europe and the Netherlands, issues with the Ashkenazi Jews, and emigration to the Dutch West Indies.
I also got a quick lesson in judging the economic health of any location by comparing the exchange rates of local money in the banks versus what that difference is on the street. A widespread is not good.
This man invited a total stranger into his home, introduced me to his family, and shared his meal.
This is Mexico!
