Tuesday, July 18, 2017

A Visit to a Place I Can't Pronounce - Atotonilco

Tacos, empanadas, burritos, chicken salad.  What's cooking?  I'm not sure.

Peppers, perhaps frijoles in the clay pot staying warm on the wood fire.

The fiesta was entering it's third and probably final day.  It was before lunch and not too long after breakfast and people, the few up that early including two gringos, wandered around looking at the aftereffects of the day before.  This senora was dishing up tacos of some kind.  Her cooking devices were as you see above.  One was propane fired.  The other was wood fired, and as I was taking a picture the smoke curled up into my face.

I took a lot of pictures of the amount of trash left in the street.  I decided not to use them.  Partly because the photos seemed to diminish the litter, and partly because it was slowly being swept up, and lastly it seemed to be unfair criticism.  Where in the US we'd send a street sweeper; ten wheels, chugging diesel engine, swirling brushes, three for four passes and it's all done.  In Mexico it's one lonely guy with an old broom and the whole day ahead of him.  With job security.

Three guys were killing time before the hordes showed up. They were playing with what we think were Spanish playing cards.  Costumes on the kings, queens and jacks suggested medieval royalty. They were gambling with peso coins stacked up in small piles. Judging by their seating, they weren't in the game for the long haul.

1 comment:

Peggy said...

Okay, I have to ask. Are you buying and eating any of this traditional street food?