Is what they called me all weekend. In attempt to explain to the sweet little (I'm talkin 4feet) woman cooking for us, that I did not care for anything spicy or hot. Her name was Margarita. She and her daughter Marcella, a beautiful woman about my age - came to our place every few days to cook and clean. They were very patient with us and our gringo espanol. Vern and I kept saying 'No verbos!' (pronounced, 'no bear-bose!'). We can use nouns all day, it's the verbos that are too much work.
Vern also took pleasure in looking up and telling the women that I was 'marcosas'. A brat.
While everyone ate the athentico cuisine, I stuck to tostido chips and guacamole. And Gin and Tonics. I had a brownie with ice cream at one cafe, some churros from a street vendor, and several pastries over the course of the trip. There are pastry shops everywhere, but they have a fraction of the sweetness american desserts have. One night after dinner out at this great restaurant we all ordered dessert. My apple strudel was shriveled up to the size of a silver dollar, Mr. Bucks chocolate cheesecake tasted like cardboard, Finance's cheesecake classico - tasted - no joke - like a block of cheddar cheese, and Vern had the most disgusting congealed/embryonic looking EXPRESSO/CAPPUCCINO JELLO shit I have ever in my life seen. They wouldn't let me go to the Happy Chicken to eat. Nor would they let me get any ice cream off the street. Conclusion: When in Mexico, eat Mexican. Eat fruit for dessert unless you want to be seriously disappointed.
You should however, when you are in Meh-hee-co, drink Cafe Americano. OMG. It will become clear which country is drinking the mierda cafe. Starbucks ain't got nothin on Cafe Americano.
It is very popular to eat corn on a stick in San Miguel. Corn on a stick with lots and lots of butter. They wouldn't let me have that either.
The churches are cool but strange. All the Jesus/Mary figures are outfitted like 1980's brides. The style in general, is very interesting. We caught a Flamenco performance which was very cool. One of the dancers scared Vern. She leaned over and whispered in my ear 'I bet that pussy bites'. She TOTALLY SAID THAT TO ME. And for the rest of the night we referred to her as the 'snapping turtle'. I wish I had a picture of her.
I have to give you more later. So behind with work.
hasta la pasta.
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