Luckily, I have a few good acquaintances that are rough around the edges, a little self-consumed and don't give a crap about what emotional state I'm in, but will invite me anyway to events, day trips etc. Matter of fact, they will do just about everything but force me to come out, stay out on occasions, and that's when I pull my best "you better call me an effing cab or else," Biesel-tude. Although at times I'm completely annoyed with their insensitivity, continuous insults, and jokes that would make even the Felker's blush, I'm truly thankful for these sort of abrasive friends, or any human interaction really that can take my mind off of Tim and all the pain I feel.
Guanajuato is not a town to be sad in though, and fortunate enough for me, moments where I break down and cry, are followed by something very "guanajuatan" like the horses walking lonely down the street, or the Zumba class that you can watch through the open door, and witness 15 chunky Mexican women doing aerobics. Or the guy that drives a truck around blasting his jingle, "GAASSS BUTTAANNAAAAA" (Butane gas.) There is nothing like the pendulum swing of loss/guilt/sadness followed by uncontrollable laughter. Although I am hurting, I will say I do feel so aware and alive.
One of these days in particular, my friends Camelo, Kent and Bre stopped by to take Katie and I to this little tiny town and get what Camelo described as one of the best meals in Mexico. Se llama, "La Flor." We crammed in Kent's car, and drove about a half an hour to a little strip town. I gasped at the first sight of the food.
The process is, you say, "I want un plato con..." and choose out of all those beautiful ceramic pots what you want. You could essentially choose one of everything, although your plate would resemble una pequeña montaña. Just to name a few, salsa fresca with tomatoes, avocado, cilantro and lime, a gorgeous and delicious mole, chorizo, frijoles garbanzos, taquitos, tostadas and many different veggie combos. (Which is so hard to find in mexico.) They also had gorgeous chile rellenos, stuffed with queso fresco and topped with a tomato sauce. They served watermelon and carrot juice with the meals, not to mention a gorgeous ceramic bowl of chipotle-salsa.
What I love about Mexican food is that it is never, ever lacking spice. One of my most memorable memories about being here the last time, was making salsa with Irene, the madre de la casa that I lived in. (The BEST salsa I've ever had. En serio.) Even though we had been blackening chile peppers on a hot skillet, and our eyes were streaming with tears, and the whole house was filled with smoke, and I was coughing without pause; she kept saying, "Mas chiles! Mas chiles!" I would love to see Gus or Tim go at a spice-off with this frisky, 5 foot Mexican woman.
Anyways, the meal at La Flor was incredible, and the photos speak for themselves. So far it's been my numbero uno meal en GTO, I'm so grateful for the generosity of Camelo, Kent and Bre for thinking of us on their way.
Looks yummy!!
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