El Grito

We celebrated Mexican Independence Day last night by wandering around the center of Coyoacan, eating our month's quota of grease (pozole, flautas, churros), sipping tequila, and buying nationalistic souvenirs. We didn't stay for the grito in the plaza, though, but decided to watch the national ceremony live on tv instead. Viva Mexico!!!

Pescado Zarandeado

In los tianguis de los martes there's a fishmonger Antonio and I love. It's un mercado sobre ruedas, an informal "market on wheels" where vendors drive into certain streets on designated days and set up stands--kind of like a farmer's market except that the stands are not necessarily organic and it's the most economic place to shop. These little markets are all over Mexico City, moving from neighborhood to neighborhood depending on the day of the week. On Tuesdays, there's a market in Barrio de San Lucas, about five or six blocks from our house (this one is Lucy's favorite and she says has the best prices because the people who shop there tend to be domestic employees, as opposed to the markets on Saturday and Sunday when the senoras shop). There's a different collection of vendors at a larger market on Sunday across Miguel Angel de Quevedo, about five blocks in another direction from our house, and the largest market of all is on Saturdays on the street America. Every market has stands of household items (pots, pans, sponges, things to scrub with), accessories for hair, clothes, maybe some pirated cds, and then stands of fruits, vegetables, chicken, beef, pork, cheese, breads...

On Tuesdays, there are two fish stands. At one, I've never seen anyone buy fish. The other is always so croweded that there is usually a long wait to be helped. It's a mother-son couple, and they sell salmon, red snapper (huachinango), filets, whole fish, whole octupus, shrimp... What they don't have you can order and ask them to bring with them to their market on Saturday. Until this weekend, Antonio and I had only bought fish from them on Tuesdays--filets of salmon or tuna, something easy to prepare on a weeknight. But this Saturday we ended up at the market and decided to be more adventurous. We bought whole filets of huachinango, which looked just like this:

The fishmonger cleaned them, took off the scales (they went flying and a couple ended up on Lola's ears like little sequins), cut off the fins, took out the entrails... The mother gave us several recipes to try, all of which begin by marinating the fish in garlic, salt, pepper, and olive oil.


Antonio wanted to try to recreate a dish we had loved in Puerto Vallarta: huachinango zarandero. He used pibil, chile, oranges, and tomatoes to make a salsa, wrapped the fish in tinfoil packets, and baked them. Fittingly (Tuesday is the national Independence Day), we served green rice and cauliflower, so our plates featured all the colors of the Mexican flag. The fish was amazing; I'm prejudiced, but I think it was restaurant quality. The only problem was that the little bones made eating it a little awkward, but I think that this is just a problem of eating whole fish.

Cultural Differences; or, Having a Pet

One is prepared for cultural differences in the expected categories: religion, social greetings, eating habits, child rearing, parties, holidays. But I suppose a true cultural difference is one that you don't even consider as something cultural until you are confronted with it. As I sit here waiting for our dog trainer to arrive to take Lola for her first lesson, I've been thinking about how surprisingly different it is having a pet in Mexico as compared to the U.S.

1. Many people think we are cruel to use a kennel. (But Lola loves it and likes to hang out in it on her own--see photo.)



2. When we tell people that we just had Lola spayed, many--even the dog trainer!--give us looks of horror mixed with distaste. Most people don't spay their animals here.

3. Yesterday while walking Lola, a driver pulls over her BMW, rolls down the window, and asks if we want to breed our dog with hers. And this is a common request. At least four times in the last two weeks we have been asked by passing drivers, pedestrians, and shop owners if we want to mate our dog with theirs.

4. That we wanted to give our dog some type of obedience training surprised most people. (This, however, should not have surprised me had I thought about the majority of dogs I encounter in the street or in parks.)

5. The kind of dog training I am used to--where you take your dog to a weekly class under guidance of a trainer--is very difficult to find in Mexico. More common is a boarding school-type training, where you send your dog off with his food for two or three weeks and then pick him up at the end of it. Another option was to drop Lola off from 8am -3pm every day for school-type instruction. We went with what seemed to us to be the best option--our dog trainer will come to our house every day for two to three weeks, or until Lola has mastered the basics of basic obedience--and take her out for a half an hour lesson. We can watch the lesson if we like, but the trainer does most of the work, at least at the beginning. It's a little strange to me, but we'll see what happens...