Big Sweet Tooth

Outta San Miguel de Allende and Onward to the Sea...

There is nothing in the entire world that I love more than whipping out a slew of maps and trying to figure out my next/future destination.  Highlighters are busted out, post-it's are put to good use, the net is utilized, a drink or three is had, and all batteries are in charge mode. 

By the time you read this, I be somewhere deep on the Yucatan coast.   I've packed up my trailer and tucked her into a safe spot in San Miguel de Allende so I could haul on over to Isla Mujeres to get my PURE Pilates Retreat in order.  In SMA, I've spent weeks torturing myself with Spanish classes when I know the whole reason I didn't go to college was because I HATE classes.  I've learned that the Mexican culture is one I could live with as if it were my own, and even connected in a way that I'm not sure I ever even connected to Chicago with.  I have met a trillion amazing folks and I guess, really...I can't wait to come back.  A new home has been created in this little speck of a mountain village in Mexico because SMA is a gem.  A sheer delight.  Listen to nothing the cynics say about the white man taking over. It's still alive and kicking in pure Mexican style and I bet it stays that way forever.

In other breaking news, I have developed a really terrific fascination with my Mexican broom.  It kept me so tidy in all sorts of windy dust storms.  Weird, I know...but ah, tengo feliz.  Also, I had no idea that Yatz was so small compared to my truck.  Interesting.

More manana from blue, blue waters...

The Michelada Meets MST

Ah-ha!  I have figured out the name of the beer drink I was talking about in an earlier post that I'd seen quaffed at El Pulpo.  I had to go back to get some more octopus and this real cordial table of local muchachos invited me to sit with them at their table--the only table.  They immediately set to ordering me a drink, the infamous Michelada, a real tasty beverage of beer, lime, salt, chile and various seafood in the bottom.  I mean, what an ingenious invention!

I wolfed a pulpo y camarones dish and then one of the guys, Jesus, wanted to show me his house he'd just built, which was just around the corner.  He rents it out to people who might be on the hunt and it was fantastic...with breathtaking views of the entire city. On the way, we stopped in at his families place and imagine my surprise when we strolled in and his entire family was having dinner.  Riddle me this one, friends--one of the men at the table was his brother and ALSO one of my regular pals at Bar Casanova.  He recognized me immediately and I just couldn't get over what a small world this village life creates.

What I love the most is when one of my new Mexican friends insists on dressing my drink for me. I am so used to creating bites for people that it is so refreshing to have someone want to present me with the best sip or bite of food...dressed the way they would want it (salt and lime sprinkled, smeared and rubbed just so).  Mi amigos, these SMA'ians.  Sad to go.  I already miss Mago.

BBQ Bob's, La Brasilla and Spanglish 101

Traveling alone always makes for a good time.  People are so friendly and seriously just want to practice English.  Anytime, anywhere.  It's like this big circle around all day, everyday.  Even when I just want to step out for a quiet dinner alone, I am befriended immediately by a local and over a cold drink, we set to Spanglish 101.  I teach them, they teach me.  Bar napkins are used as chalk boards, low-ink pens are straggled up and drink-studded lessons begin. 

And it's funny because the look of pure awe on their face when they finally comprehend the difference between, let's say---he, she, them, woman, man, women, men, they, it, you, me---well, it's astounding.  Just like when the connection finally hits my foggy mind.  Hell, man I still don't think I have it, but day by day, minute by minute, I find myself having conversations...or at least understanding what is going on...when just a few weeks ago, I knew jack crapola.  Maybe even less.  In fact, I may know EVEN LESS now, but I seem to understand with great clarity, which is real, real scary.

BBQ Bob's is a good place to sit a spell and get to learning.  It's a funky little restaurant just down the road from my fave egg and cheese torta place, La Brasilla, and has this little organic produce stand attached to it. Their beers are double the price of my fave cantina (Bar Casanova)--but what's $2 when there is free wifi and a string of contenta folks streaming through?

PS--Seriously, when looking for a taste of sheer heaven, especially late night, you cannot beat the deals at La Brasilla.  A cold horchata to wash down an egg and cheese torta con avocado y mayo is enough to slay any girls soul.

Casa de Los Angeles Gets the Chi Love (and Donation)

The other day, I finally unloaded all the huge bags of clothes I've been hauling around for months.  A bunch of pals in Chicago had donated tons of great clothes, stuffed animals, etc...for me to bring to Mexico and I ended up finding a great organization to donate them all to.    

Casa de los Angeles is a bright and cheery daycare center just off Pila Seca in SMA that assists poverty striken single moms---by providing FREE day care for their kiddies.  Little ones that would otherwise stay home alone while their mama went to work trying to make a buck.  Everyone is under the impression that SMA is "the rich part of Mexico," but I'm here to tell you...deep poverty does exist here.  I've been able to have wheels here since my little trailer is a tow behind and I've been up and down so many of the streets, side towns, and outskirts---on foot, with friends, and on my own.  There is need everywhere and this safe, and very loving, haven helps out those in dire straits.  Those strong women who had nowhere else to turn. 

I came from no money and I know my parents always struggled to keep me and my bro kickin' it in the game of life.  Odd jobs, constantly moving around and having to make new friends (thx for that one!), simple home cooked food--that is the story of my life in childhood (and oddly, now in adulthood--I guess I came by it honest).  I can imagine what it must have been like to get a big care package of goodies for these women. 

Big, mad, loving props to all my buds in Chi who were cool enough to respond to my "I need help" email.  Besos from me and Casa de los Angeles in Mexico. They readily accept volunteers so if you are into coming down to work with some adorable babies and a great team of volunteers, contact them here.

In the meantime, I am DELIGHTED that my truck is free and clean again...now it's ready for the next batch of goods to come down!  The last photo is my PACKED truck when I left Chicago.  Good God, I am still amazed I made it all this way...well, not really...but sorta...

Nieve Alert on Canal in SMA

Just down the hill from the animal shelter where I volunteer is a scrap of a store that has something to do with mens clothing.  I wish I could tell you what it has to do with mens clothing, but I can't get past the nieve their hawking on their front steps.  I've looked at the giant yellow contraption every day on the way to play with Mago and finally yesterday, I had to have some. 

I was cruising around town running errands in preparation for my departure (the best $5 car wash my truck has ever had, new windshield wipers to replace the threads clinging to my windshield, etc..) and I just happened by.  Full pit stop.  Now, I've had nieve (a kind of Mexican snow/ice cream) all over SMA and Mexico, but this is far and above the best I've tried.  After tasting the queso (cheese), my two top flavors of the day were coconut and strawberry (coco y fresa). 

This grande cup was a few bucks...and gone in about 45 seconds flat.  I flipped through an old issue of Islands magazine while sucking down the last of the grated coconut and watching trucks full of kids roll by.  A truly perfect moment in time.

El Pulpo is My #1 Spot So Far...

I have unearthed what I think is my favorite food cart in San Miguel de Allende.  Just across from the crazy-hip art house Fabrica de Aurora is a itty-bitty pulpo y camarones (octopus and shrimp) cart called El Pulpo.  That's all they serve and you can mix and match your cocktail up any way you want to.  I snatched up a pulpo and each tall glass comes packed with huge chunks of tender octopus, avocado, pico de gallo, cilantro, and a tomato-y sauce.  It's $5 and I kid you not, a total joy to partake in. 

I plopped down at one of the four stools at the counter and watched the two cuties running the joint whip up each dish in an instant and some guy at the only table had ordered a giant beer that had been dressed with hot sauce, lime and shrimp in the bottom.  What a great treat after sucking down a cold beer on a hot day (the days are starting to really warm up here)---to get a couple of beer soaked shrimp down the gullet.  The counter is lined with a dozen different hot sauces for you to peruse from, but mine was made PERFECT as served.  All you need are a few crackers and hard corn tortillas (which are just plunked on the counter in the box they come in). 

Another perfect find in a town I don't want to leave.  But, I am headed toward the beach soon...more seafood is on the horizon!

Tacos Skina, Cervezas, and Complete Strangers...

See now here is an exact reason I love San Miguel de Allende.  I'd run into this guy, Norwin, yesterday whilst searching out a place to get a pedicure.  He has a teensy-tiny cornerside taco joint, with a daily special of 3 tacos and a bowl of frijoles charros (beef, fish, shrimp, chicken, etc..).  I stopped in around 11, but since he doesn't open til noon, I sweated it out with my love Mago at the animal shelter.  We had a rousting play date and then I skipped back to the taco house to partake in my favorite version of tacos...fried shrimp. 

Whilst there, I met an adventurous man who had just sold his house in Colorado to the owners of Patagonia and was now on a massive travel expedition trying to find his new just-feels-right home, as well as a cute little gal who'd adopted a Mexican puppy, was attempting an new acrobatic career and was trying to sell some jewelry on the street.  While the three of us were chatting it up about life and travel, N kept scooting across the street to the $5 car wash to grab me some cervezas (he is a BYOB). 

I watched him and his crew make guacamole and three different kinds of salsa on the spot and it all just made me real, real happy.  Life is good.  Mexico is better.  Tacos are cheap and on top of that, it's 75-80 degrees here pretty much every day.   

What Makes a Mexico Day?

What makes a day?  What do you spend your time doing?   That seems to be the question that floats around the trailer park every time you stop for a chat...and it rolls off the tongues of everyone I meet in the street-Mexicans and Americans alike.  Where do the hours go?  Well, let me lay out a day for you. 

After scarfing a lovely breakfast of blackberries, granola and peach yogurt in my little casa, I head over to my favorite cafe to get hopped up on a sugary sweet cortado before struggling into my Spanish class at the Institute.  Two  hours of MST mass confusion one-on-one, with me trying to trick mi maestro into thinking that I know what the hell she's saying.  And, trust me I DO NOT.  And, I most likely NEVER WILL.

After I roll out of there, I swing by the animal shelter (SPA), where I have been volunteering.  I've fallen in DEEP LOVE with a puppy name Mago.  What I do is called puppy socializing and it's my job to convince former street puppies that humans are not out to hurt them.  Let me tell ya...me and Mago have had some words (re:  I practice my Spanish on her).  When I first went in, she was always cowering and running...just so scared.  And, then the magic barrier was broken and she and I are now the best of buds.  In a way.  Today I got her all riled up about a ball I wadded up for her out of paper and when I started paying attention to another pup, she flew into a jealous frenzy.  Made my heart soar.  Please, please adopt Mago.  She is a gem.  Or if you are in SMA, just volunteer.  You will be such a better soul for it!

After chillin' with the pups in the afternoon, I cruise back through the village of SMA, usually taking a few different dusty side streets (SPA is way off the beaten path, so its perfect for me and my exploring roots).  Maybe a taco is had before I swing back thru the trailer park and set to cleaning up my little trailer.  There's sweeping to do, a spoon to wash, ice to procure (I only have an ice box), rugs to shake out, a plant to talk to, pictures to be downloaded, emails to check, organizing to do and socializing galore. 

Everyone in the park is always busy going about their day---sunning, eating, strolling, walking dogs, chatting and usually around the early afternoon time frame, first drinks are broken in to.  Cerveza being the drink of choice, but sometimes I see a gin being mixed or a martini being sucked down.  Wine is also on hand usually.  I've found the perfect connect between the trailer crew and the locals.  I've really made some cool connects with the locals---and everyone knows someone who knows someone. 

Today, though I went out on the hunt for a place to get a pedicure and met a chubby cutie with a shrimp taco stand on the way.  While I was talking with him---on a really narrow alleyway--a bus slammed into a car.  Nobody's fault...instead I took to the bar on the corner to watch it all unfold.  The police were there within 10 minutes and a new bus was shuttled through to pick up the stranded passengers.  I was just finishing up a cold beer when the only other customer offered to buy me a drink.  Of course, sir!  I'm happy to accept your offer.  Well, this then turns in to Spanish/English lessons for me, him and the bartender of the cantina. This is the very best way to learn and when I tired to pay my tab, I was informed that I had no tab (this happens quite often).  They were just happy to have some conversations, so what's a few bucks to them?  And, it's these chats that make me realize that maybe I do understand what the hell people are talking about.  Si. Si. That's it.

After saying adios to my new pals, it's back to the trailer park where more drinks are had, with good honest convos all the way around.  Politics, off-grid living, high tech gadgets, the best street food, current movies, remote travel hot spots, etc...those are the primary topics of chit-chat.  Maps are whipped out, ideas are tossed about and nobody has any idea what time it is...or even what day it is.  Very educated people live in trailer parks, trust me.  And, snacks always abound.  Cake, nuts, pepitas, etc...are always being doled out to the great delight of all.  And, then night falls, stars shine, roosters pipe down, doggies nap and my little solar trailer GLOWS with joy.

What a funny, quirky, blissful world, this Mexico I'm calling home.

It's a Downright Food Orgy in San Miguel de Allende

Here's the thing.  The food I keep coming across in SMA just keeps getting better and better.  There's the whole fried fish and the never-ending row of tres leches cakes at the gigantic Tuesday market that I wolfed down today (under $5 for all).  There's the little bags of slightly salty churritos (corn snack stick) doused in chile and lime that I munch on at Bar Casanova.  There's the whole chopped coconut that I just inhaled--of course squirted with lime.  There's the delicious BULL NECK that I somehow managed to sample after one too many cervezas at Casanova (imagine my horror/delight).  There's the big plastic cups of fresh fruit (con limon) on every corner.  There's the torta de huevo y queso and the frijoles charros that blew my mind last night at La Brasilla.  There's the glistening sweet potatoes that must be cooked in nothing but sugar water that I keep taste-testing at different cantina's.  I can't seem to stop eating.  Someone help me.  Thank God I walk everywhere in this little town or else we might have some trouble on our hands.  And, please...don't even get me started on the juices~

Tank Noodle and A Rice Fetish {From The Raving Dish}

When I got back from Indonesia last month, I developed a scary addiction to rice and was craving the starch every moment of every day. I'd wake up from a deep slumber salivating about nasi campur (rice with mixed veggies and meat), and I'd go to bed dreaming about rice with sweet long beans and tempeh. My fixation, though, was taken to a whole-new, more-dramatic level when I stopped into Tank Noodle (Pho Xe Tang) on one cold, sunless afternoon. Why, oh why, have I never gone to Tank before? I've always heard great things about it; it's in my neighborhood, and I love Vietnamese food, especially from restaurants that call themselves noodle houses.

The place was packed when I scurried in out of the cold. That's always a good sign. And my waiter was all buttered up with excitement since it was my first time in. Another good sign. I loathe when a waiter can't make simple suggestions without pure excitement, and this fella did not disappoint. He ran through the extensive menu like a champ, suggesting dishes that might work for my on-and-off vegetarian palate. After deciding on the curry tofu noodle bowl (bun ca ri tau hu), I rubbernecked the dining room, watching groups of Asians and Americans literally beam with joy while digging into their plates of food. Huge bowls of soup were being slurped down; giant platters of beef came out sizzling; and I was in a pure-white heaven staring at all the steaming bowls of sticky rice being doled out.

Trailer Park Living in Mexico

Life in a small trailer park in Mexico is pretty much the coolest thing ever.  It's cheap; you've got built-in friends with similar attitudes about life; there's free crazy fast wi-fi; and it's central to everything in  SMA.  I've parked Yatz right under a tree and really just couldn't be more pleased with my set up--I hear the church bells go off a gazillion times a day and there's some rock solid fried veggie tacos at the end of my street.  What more could I ask for? 

The RV camp (which holds about 12 compact RV's) is surrounded by a giant stone wall and is flanked by a couple of very busy tennis courts...I had no idea people played so much tennis...it's nuts!  The fellas who work on the grounds couldn't be nicer (always watering the flowers or working on some sort of construction project)...plus, someone comes by every few days to pick up laundry (mine was $4 and was turned around the same day) and the showers are hot...with better water pressure than my place in Chicago.  And, THEN...the best part is--I can just pick up and leave any time I want--creating a new homebase on any patch of land I deem worthy.  Pretty neat, eh?  And, how I pulled my trailer thru that red gate in the dark on such a small cobblestone street I will never know.

A Gal's Gotta Have Wheels....

See, here's the cool thing about having a tow-behind vintage travel trailer.  Once you drop the little mama and set up camp, you've still got wheels.  Sure, the bigger RV's might have all the perks (bathroom/flat screen/satellite) but try navigating one of those beasts thru the narrow colonial streets of San Miguel de Allende.  It ain't happening.

I, on the other hand, can just hop in my truck and scoot around town OR take a little side trip at a moments notice.  I can fly down dusty back roads where paved quickly turns to dirt or stumble into tiny never-been-heard-of villages no problem.  I've already lit out of SMA and hit up Dolores Hidalgo (a town famous for its shrimp, corn, avocado, etc... ice cream) and on the way, I tucked down some side roads that wound thru compact 15-house villages.  No matter the size every village has some sort of epic church/cathedral busting up out of the town center like a vision of beauty and the path getting to them is almost always picturesque:  big, blue skies; happy smiles, swaying trees; clean little bodegas.

In other breaking news, I had the most incredible goat cheese cheesecake with apple compote and fresh rosemary at my favorite health food store in SMA yesterday--Natura, just off San Antonio.  I wanted to cry it was so good.  Coulda eaten every last slice...and almost did.

Learning Spanish the Old School Way

Well, I've been taking some Spanish lessons here in SMA and I've gotta say...it's going swimmingly.  NOT.  Yeah...ya see, the thing is...I flipped into my one-on-one lesson at the gorgeous Instituto Allende on Day 1 after sucking down one really stout margarita and my instructor Tomas (see stunned photo below)--for some ungodly reason--came to believe that I understood and spoke Spanish.  Poor thing.  I just have a way of making people think I know what the hell I'm talking about...and trust me, Tomas was convinced that I was a long time Spanish speaker. 

Well, finally after three days of some wildly intense Spanish-language-only lessons I'd kinda/sorta started to figure out the difference between el, la, ustedes, ella, ellas, etc...and after class I decided to download some awesome podcasts from rollingrs.com (bloody brilliant) that really break the basics down.  It  was just after I got my lessons transfered to my ipod that I decided to head on over to my local cantina to study for a bit.  Hmmmm...we all know what that turns into.  Lots of cervezas.  Lots of cervezas.  Oh, and lots of cervazas.

I learned more in my afternoon at that bar (Bar Casanova) that I did all week at Spanish class and I got a $3 bar tab and some tongue scalding bar food to go along with it.  This was much more useful--not because of my teacher's lack of skills, but because it just pays to chat with the locals--especially those wearing cowboy hats.  These fellas are the best teachers across the board and really, just straight delighted to converse with a chica rollin' sola.  As it should be.

MST's Kind of Food is Found in San Miguel de Allende...

Whew!  I have successfully located the street food in San Miguel de Allende.  I was getting real scared for a minute...because this little village is so rife with lovely cafes and beautiful courtyard restaurants, it's hard to decide where to eat.  Each place I've been to has turned out some pretty good food (shrimp drenched in butter sauce, beet and goat cheese salad, tamales stuffed with chiles y queso) but as we all know...homemade street food is the best.  It's usually just a dollar or so and it's a direct path into the soul of a nation.  Well, that and the local brew.

I've had some spine-tingling nopales (cactus) and frijoles gorditas from a corner shack.  I've inhaled some sort of fruit, cake and whipped cream dessert that made my eyes bulge dangerously out of my head.  And, I did pass by a tiny busted up cart boasting pulpo (octopus) today that I cannot wait to get back to.  The food of Mexico, the good stuff at least, is found tucked down deserted side streets and narrow alleys, is whipped out from steaming stew pots in the locals kitchen's and is draped across the edge of the dusty wide open countryside in always bustling sling-to's. 

There's something so blindingly simple about all of these small scenes that stops me dead in my tracks.  It's the same around the world...you just gotta get to walking//

Villages Just Do Me Right...

So...San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.  I've been reading about this artsy mountain village for over ten years and have been biding my time until I could make it here to take some Spanish lessons.  Who knew I'd be living in a little RV park/compound in the middle of town, though, when I finally made it down here.  Turns out I'm a village gal at heart and there is possibly no better one for me to have settled into for my first travel trailer excursion.  I have been walking everywhere the crazy twists and turns of the cobblestoned streets take me and have come across some amazing scenes.  The buildings are a riot of color and each corner I turn takes my breath away. 

Of course expats come here--who wouldn't?  That's the big debate--are there too many expats?  Is the place over run with gringos?  Nah...It's all relative.  I've met some lovely folks--from all over the world--but what I enjoy the most is when a friendly Mexican man/boy/guy attaches himself to my hip, matches my gait and wanders all over the village with me--as I zip around running errands (procure salsa, pick out fresh flowers, sample elote, etc...).  They're just wanting to make small talk, you know?  They speak very little English.  I speak even less Spanish.  Yet somehow it all works.  Yep, it works just fine.

On Mexican Time...Already...

The road to San Miguel de Allende was as flawless a journey as I've ever made.  It's straight Highway 57 all the way from Eagle Pass, TX to SMA and there wasn't a lick of traffic.  Of course, the roads were better than those in Chicago and I met some real friendly Mexicans.  I swapped some chocolate Snickers bites for some sort of addictive salty seeds--with a portly gas station attendant at a deserted Pemex (Mexico's gas station all the way down); I ate some killer huevos rancheros at a dusty puppy populated shack of a restaurant in the middle of nowhere; and I made it to cobble-stoned SMA just as the sun was setting.  I am already in love with this village, so expect some good stuff real soon... And, seriously, my finger LOOKS huge in that photo---just clutching the bag of seeds...Wow...I can't get over it...

And, There Goes Free 'n Easy...

I took this lovely photo from Lake Michigan this summer just after I'd dove off the side of my sailboat into perfectly temperate water.  The lake was so calm and sway (as you can see), we didn't even need an anchor and incredible day sails like this one are the exact reason to own a boat in Chicago.  The reason I bring this up now--busting in on the beginning of my massive road trip dispatches--is because I just SOLD MY BOAT!  What exciting news to get whilst on the road! 

As I cruised the back roads of Texas Hill Country (just stunning) and made my way down 57 in Mexico, I was plotting my next sailboat purchase (of course).  As much as I love little Free 'n Easy, this next boat will be out in LA where I can keep her in the water year round.   It's just the natural flow of things right now....

To Mexico I Go....

OK...since I know that my posts are only gonna get bigger and better the deeper I get into the interior of Mexico, I am going to have to make this one a little recap of the past few days.  We've no time for lagging behind...I've gotta stay up to date and in the minute.

So, as I sip my icy cold cerveza in a sprawling village deep in the Mexican highlands , let me just lay out some stats for ya...

Miles driven thus far:  1500+ by way of the Natchez Trace in Mississippi (camped), Louisiana (pit stop to visit friends working on a movie there), Austin (pit stop to visit a pal I've not seen since I drove to LA when I was 20), and TX Hill Country (1000's of pitstops to poke my toes in creeks and run across fields to fiddle with cattails).

Number of times I've had to back up the trailer:  Once.  I got a little confused in Eagle Pass, TX where I crossed the border.  Went to the wrong place and after 6 border agents situated the traffic behind me, I had to back up the trailer---which is a hellish task.  They were so happy to full abandon their jobs and dedicate a 1/2 hour to help steer me my little trailer.  After many laughs and much small talk whilst navigating the trailer, turns out everyone knows someone in Chicago.  For the record, I do not like backing up.

Border troubles had:  FREAKING ZERO!  Everything I read online was outlandish compared to the ease I had crossing the border.  I freaked everyone out by presenting them with a swath of copies, originals, and more copies of birth certificates, titles to travel trailers, insurance (US and Mexican), old registration forms, passports, drivers licenses, etc...that nobody EVEN noticed that I didn't have a title to my truck nor did I have any current registration form from the City of Chicago.  They were just happy to get me the hell out the door. (More on this later).

Number of times pulled over:  Once.  Ummm yeah.  Seems I blew thru a red light doing about 60 in a 35.  Interesting.  The cop saw me roll thru, took care of his business at a 7-11 and about 1/2 hour later caught up with me hauling ass down 57.   We even waved to each other as we both noticed me breaking the law.

Number of bribes given:  One.  The above scenario was quickly settled with a pretend mass confusion from both parties and a quick flip of $30 USD.  He was delighted and I was on my way...

Number of drinks had in 1400 miles:  Hmmmmm...not that many, I swear.

Number of wildfires witnessed:  2.  Had an officer lose his shit on me about 10pm just outside of Eagle Pass.  As I pulled around what I thought was just a trail of curious onlookers, I was stopped and then, to the horror of me and my trailer, screamed out.  His exact words rang a little something like this--"DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH TRAFFIC, MA'AM???"  I feigned ignorance and was told to just move on.  As I peeled out, I felt real bad as I watched all the other trucks sit in traffic.  Suckers.

Number of good meals had over past 4 days:  Round about 3.  Had some awesome Indian in Shreveport, LA and scarfed a pretty decent pimento cheese sandwich in Fredericksburg, TX.  So far, only beans, tortillas and beer in Mexico.  Delicious though---it's all in the lime!

That's about all for now...more soon.

On the way to Mexico via The Natchez Trace~

I'm not real sure if you've heard of the Natchez Trace.  I say this because everyone I tell that I just spent the night there is like, "Where!?"  Even in all its winter gloom, I'm here to say that this ribbon of road is just plain lovely.  It's like heading back in time a century or so.  I camped the night in Jeff Busby Park, a free spot along the Trace where tenter's and RV'ers can set up.  I pulled in 'round about 8p and it was PITCH BLACK--not a single light around (kinda terrifying), but when I woke up the next morning I was delighted to see a big deer hangin' out just behind my trailer.  I also was privy to some bald eagle cawwwwing (at least that is what I'm thinking it was) as I did some sun salutations and drank hot tea.  Cruising down the rest of the Trace, I maybe passed 10 cars and one old man weaving about on a rickety old bicycle.  It was a shock to get back on 20 West headed toward Texas and Mexico.  So many lights...so much confusion...blasts of intense rain in a tornado watch...my little trailer flip-flopping behind me...and of course, a funky meal (for real) at the Waffle House.  Welcome to America!  Cannot wait to scram across the border...to massive amounts of sunshine and tropical environ's.

Monkey Forest Road, Ubud, Bali

The real Monkey Forest  just off Monkey Forest Road in Ubud, Bali is indeed dotted with critter picking monkeys (along with sacred temples and secret trails).  When I was in Bali a few years back, I avoided the dark confines of this forest skirting town, but this past time, I had to walk through it to get to and from my little hotel, Villa Sonia.  Every morning, I would skirt through the shady paths in the forest and I'm not kidding when I say---there were hundreds of monkeys running wild.  They were flipping and swinging--all curious about who this giant white woman was skipping through the forest at the crack of dawn. I was enamored with their mode of cleaning and more often than not, I'd see a few of them rapt with pleasure digging deep on their pals/families back.  Wish I had someone to do that for me--what a treat~

I Shall Perfect the Tamale in Mexico...

To the average eye, this may look like an ordinary tamale with a small smattering of beans and rice.  Ahhhh, not so.  In reality, this is an award-winning (well, at least in my heart) Cuban tamale--one from my fave place in Chicago, La Unica.  I've raved about it, I've posted about it, I've dreamed about...and now, when I go to Mexico, I'm making it one of my Top 5 goals to learn to make tamales.  I know they can't be that difficult and I'm going to obsess about it until I have eaten my fill of my own homemade tamales.  Other things I want to concoct in Mexico are mole, perfect chipolte salsa, ranchero beans, and fish simmered in coconut milk (it's a Brazilian recipe, but still, I'm gonna give it a go).  I have no oven in the trailer, so all eats will have to be slung together on the stovetop.  Should be a piece of cake~

Padang Bai Harbor, Bali

If you ever wonder what the tiny port village of Padang Bai looks like, well you're looking at it!  Wish I could tell you that it was just this cute, but once you get past the funky cafes and traditional warungs, it can get a little sketch.  Only because the very busy harbor is located there, with ferries ripping in and out at all hours (a ferry for Lombok leaves every hour on the hour).  This port is so hellishly hectic if you don't know where you're going and it's easy to get dominated by eager faces offering to haul your bags for a dollar or so.  And, don't get me going on the women who literally attack you with bottled waters, fruit sacks, and noodle-to-go containers.  It is best to buy snacks from them , because one you get started on the 5 hour ride to Lombok, the pickings are slim. 

A one-way fery ticket to Lombok is $2.50--don't let anyone try to sell you otherwise.  And pay no heed to the fact that Lombok is Muslim (Bali is Hindu).  All the vendors will try to freak you about that fact, but once you get to Benoa Harbor on Lombok, you can catch a ride to anywhere no problem.   No matter where you roll in Indo, the smiles are genuine and the prices are cheap.

There is also a very efficient fast boat (Gili Cat) that rockets you out to the Gili Islands for about $60 bones.  It takes just under 2 hours and for my money, I'd say most definitely worth it.  The small office is located right across from the sandy beach--and far away from the hawkers swarming the ferries.

Mariegold Filipino {From The Raving Dish}

The number one reason I love Chicago is because of the ethnic food options. Sure, the lake is magical, and, of course, the skyline is epic. But I've yet to find another city in the world that offers such a wide swath of foreign eats in such a short span of concrete. Food from every corner of the globe can be found at corner-side shacks, candlelit trattorias, "opa!" bellowing dining halls, and tortilla slinging taco joints—and my astronomical love for it is endless.
But, there are plenty of countries I've not yet explored, and the Philippines makes the top five on my list. It's not that I'm not interested; I've just never been lured into it. You never hear people gushing about the great kare-kare (meat stew with peanut sauce) they had last night, you know? That all changed the day I slammed on my brakes outside Mariegold Bake Shoppe, a glass-fronted Filipino spot on California Avenue. From the look of the dusty exterior, it was definitely an insider-only joint and the small parking lot had one tight spot left—clearly reserved for me.

Garbage Never Looked So Pretty...

Trolling up and down the narrow streets of Ubud are the most vibrant garbage trucks you've ever seen.  They're small and compact so they can squeeze through the narrow village pathways in Ubud, and I couldn't help but stop and stare at them for a good long spell.  Not only was their yellow base painted with a bright green jungle flower landscape, they didn't even smell bad.  Not even a whiff, which was pretty incredible.  I credit that to all the flowers and offerings they have to pick up daily from the the door stoop of every local Hindu household and establishment.  Could you imagine something like this shooting through the gritty streets of Chicago.  It would take city trash to a whole new--much better--level.

I Want This Motorbike~

Ancient as it is, this is the exact motorbike I would love to get my hands on.  Next time I am in Indo, I'm going to buy one.  I'll just leave it there with a friend so that every time I come back to paradise, I have a little ride waiting on me!  I guess I just like collecting treasures around the world. 

In other news, I did purchase a really cool electric bike (its at home in Chi) that I have failed to put together yet.  Not sure what my plans are with that thing, but it will come...it will come...