The sun is low, and it’s easy to walk home. We descend from the viewpoint. Compared to the climb up to the observation tower with the cross (Mirador la Cruz), going down is an incomparable pleasure, though the sunset from above is worth any suffering 😄
We take a different route back, recalling the beautiful landscaped stairs from last year. My intuition doesn’t deceive me: we are exactly where I wanted to be. Along the way, we explore the prices of a newly restored house (neither too high nor too low: almost $2 million, not a small house, nearly 400 square meters, 4 apartments, but still). Suddenly, we find ourselves at the entrance of a restaurant.
I’m pleasantly surprised and ask my son if he remembers anything. Of course, he doesn’t. While I search for the spot where, twenty years ago, the kids made tortillas with the native woman, a man approaches us. I start to explain that I’m showing my son the place where he once sat and made thin corn pancakes. Memories flood in like a good tropical rain…
It was one of our first times in Mexico, and the first time we ate crickets. Back then, I didn’t know what Oaxaca was, nor could I pronounce the word, but I managed to find information that the only restaurant in Puerto Vallarta, “Sì Señor,” served the popular insects from Oaxaca. I satisfied my curiosity: they have no flavor, just crunchy, and they become delicious when eaten with cheese and sauces.
Another secret of the restaurant was revealed to us: under the wooden floorboards in the women’s restroom, there was a hidden well!
It turns out the man who approached us is the restaurant owner Lalo, and all three of his children were born in Hinsdale, a wealthy Chicago suburb. Over twenty years ago, Lalo returned from the U.S. and opened several restaurants.
Lalo points to a colorful wall and asks if I remember Lola. I can’t recall anything, then he shows me a parrot sitting on the side. I light up with joy; I’ve dreamed of having a parrot as a pet for many years! “She’s unfriendly,” Lalo says, “and very noisy.” An older man appears at the restaurant door, and I realize he’s a waiter; he pulls out a pistachio nut and, with it held between his lips, offers it to Lola. Lola takes it carefully. “I want one too,” I declare. The man gives me a nut and asks Lola if she would like another.
Then the fun begins: “Lola, my love, take the nut” does not work; we chase Lola almost like we did a black bear in Shenandoah National Park nearly twenty-five years ago. Lola descends the line and waddles over to a young man. “That’s her love,” explains the man who gave me the nut. Before love, I am helpless.🙂
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