It Happened In Monterrey, In Old Mexico
Part 2

Saturday Ramblins, Vol. 1, No. 3 (May 30, 1998)

(Ed. note: In today's edition, PapaJon completes the tale of his trip to Monterry, Mexico. Last week PapaJon told us about his adventures at the metal detectors in the airport, the scenery and the heat he encountered in Mexico, his encounter with God in a taxicab and his tribute to Lana.)

PAPA JON MEETS THE PAPA

One of the joys of traveling, especially in another culture, is sampling the food. In the States, McDonald's, Burger King, KFC, and Pizza Hut have made one part of our country taste pretty much like another. But you don't have to eat like this if you don't want to. True, the first place Heather and I ate while on a walking tour my first day in Monterrey, was not typically Mexican. In fact it was a combo store serving food from two of my four basic food groups: a Baskin-Robbins/Dunkin' Donuts. (Don't even ask what the other two food groups are. I'm a Southerner, remember?)

There are two things you find with virtually every meal served in Monterrey: avocados and limes. There is hardly a thing in Mexico which, if it will stand still long enough to be eaten, doesn't have lime juice squeezed on it. Even chips. I saw student's at Heather's school open a bag of chips and saturate them until they were soggy. Even I began squeezing it onto everything except my donuts

Sliced avocados lace most food that can be put on a bun or wrapped in a tortilla. If you've never tried a hamburger or a taco with them, do so. They add a delicate flavor and texture.

And then there are the papas.

A papa is nothing but a baked potato the size of a '63 Ford Falcon. The insides have been scraped out, mixed with cream, butter and cheese then returned to the skin and topped with shredded taco meat—or about anything else you'd like to add (lime juice, more cheese, onions, more cheese, peppers, ... well, you get the idea.).

While capable of destroying the arteries of a 23-year-old marathon runner at a hundred yards, the papas were a delicious and inexpensive treat. For about 18 pesos (approximately $2.20), you were guaranteed you wouldn't have to eat again that day, especially helpful if you're traveling on a budget, as I was.

DONDE EST...ER, AH...THE LITTLE HOMBRE'S ROOM?

It helps, traveling in Mexico, to know a little of the language. And I know as little as anyone. My most frequent conversations with the locals consisted of two words: no Español. Most of the Spanish I know was learned from the menu at Taco Bell. Fortunately, I had a wonderful interpreter with me most of the time named Heather, who is fluent and literate in Spanish.

My initial challenge each morning was ordering breakfast in the hotel dining room. While the waiters knew a little English and I knew a little Spanish, none of it was related to food. I learned this the morning I attempted to order scrambled eggs and sausage. After ten minutes of conferring and pointing at food on other tables, I ended up with a couple of hard cooked eggs, chopped fine, and two American hot dogs. I did get the toast and jelly I ordered, though, so I counted that as a victory.

MY DAUGHTER, THE TEACHER

The real reason for this trip though was not for culture, gastronomic delights or sight-seeing. It was to be with one of the people who remind me everyday that there are still people on this earth who love me and need me.

I watched in awe one day as my daughter, Heather, stood in front of a classroom of thirty fifteen-year-olds. Her ease, her command of the classroom and her of way interacting with these children made me immensely proud and profoundly humble at the same time. This was the same young woman who, ten years ago at age fifteen, made several bad choices which resulted in some severe consequences. And there she was on that day, a Magna Cum Laude college graduate, teaching in another country with the obvious love and respect of her students.

This was the same young woman almost killed in an auto accident in Ecuador only last August. Most of the bone in her left leg is held together with pins and rods. She could have laid in her bed and felt sorry for herself, yet she got on her feet and took this job to serve these young people.

Heather, my other daughters, and Lana: women of courage, all. How blest I am and have been. On the flight back to the States I realized I that I don't have to travel to distant lands, nor set out on Coronado's quest, to find the real treasures in my life. They have always been with me.

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