Aug 1st, Philipe Carillo Puerot. Got up today after a long night of good times and deep existential conversation. What is existance? How does the mind function? Past, future, and present ralities; all that rubbish (Not rubbish but in a way, Yes, Universally nothing). 9AM, Cathryn (an english in Philipe Carillo Puerto) told us that she was going to teach english class. An nasty check out too early for the lathargic and comfortable. She never showed, a fib that worked as an alarm clock for the scoundral that we were that day. Carillo Puerto is an interesting place. Beer is sold 24 hours a day, bars don´t close til´4Am. The social bussinesses work at the schedule of what the humd hot climate allows. Happy hour is non existant, noone wants to go out when your sticky and smelly. Showers for me have been far and in between events, but the people here shower 2-3 times a day. Drinking here is all or nothing for the local ladies and gentlman, social drinking is a concept not well understood.
Went to the local market, walked around the dozens of fruit vendors which is towards the entrance area. In the center the butchers, cleavers at the ready, set up theri choice cuts of meat. In a fashoin that in a way resembled a horror movie. Ribs, legs, and heads are on display dangling, like a scene out of Texax Chainsaw Massacre. The smell almost made me puke. A reality that as an American, spoiled and used used to my meats prepared and ready for consumption, I never really knew. What was seen as delicious and prestigous to the population, was grotesque for me. A strang cultrtural norm, I can not imagine Santa Cruz with a butcher system like that.
The journey continued, Had lunch in the restaraunt section of the Mercado. the system of restaruants service is confusing and intricately beautiful. Tables of different trademarks (Pepsi, Coca Cola, Superior Beer, Corona, Sol etc...) seperates your selection of restaurant. Goddam impossible to eat where you want to. I spotted a fat Narco Trafficante looking mother hefer, whos lardacious appearence at the front of one of the restaurants promised deliciousness. Within the hustle and crowds, I thought "How the sam hill Im I gonna get there?". The sorrounding table were full. Shit, Oh well. Second choice, or so I thought. Sat down with Tom in front of a taqueria, where 3 healthy looking old ladies cooked, that looked like it offered tastiness in a taco form (or torta form) and was bamboozled. The server was a double agent working for two restaurants. Well hey that´s Mexico life is a hustle. Here are some images of this trip so far enjoy....
