One preamble: This is an abandoned post about summer BBQs that I will try to salvage. Therefore, the memories are not as sharp as they may have once been.
My pre-Mexico summer days witnessed many grilled vegetables, fruits and burgers, of both the meat and bean type. I loved the smell of the burning charcoal mingling with the food. As a child, I use to purposefully, perhaps ingenuously inhale this smoke and exhale as if it were cigarette smoke. This always failed to make me look cool but did make me cough just like my first real cigarette.
Having lived in Georgia, a place with four distinct seasons, my entire life, I find the Valley of Mexico's two seasons a bit disconcerting and slightly stingy. But a weekend overflowing with grilling meet and cold casseroles brought the South to, well, even further south of the Mason-Dixon Line. I attended two BBQs, utterly different from each other but equally entertaining.
BBQ 1: Friday night. American Embassy compound. Me + 1 Canadian.
What happens when one Canadian is present at an American Embassy party? The reader can guess. We decided to make fun of her, in particular, for the show "Degrassi." It just so happens that a few days before in said Canadian's apartment, the show appeared during a channel surfing session. I lingered on the channel, remembering watching the show in my old house, late night, but always thinking it strange. Never being able to put my finger on what was so different. This particular day the mystery of the Degrassi High was solved: The show is from Canada. Upon hearing this I responded genuinely, "Really? I always knew there was something a bit off about that show."
Having lived on a research station, the actual grounds of the Embassy did not strike me as odd, though I imagine the average Joe may find it to be as bizarre as it is. Instead, the people and their lifestyle intrigued me. To start, they move every two years to new countries. For example, Nicole's next post will be in Bulgaria (though she has no previous experience with the language) and truth be told, she looked less than thrilled. And another, a woman I had met before on numerous occasions, who I admired for her guttural voice and seemingly inflated self-confidence, let on to her loneliness, now late into her 30's.
The party ended with Embassy workers admitting that they are compromised mostly of Mormons, with Jesus Jammies under their clothes. Mormons, you may not realize, are the perfect candidate for the foreign service. They have squeaky clean records and thus, have no problem passing the State Department's semi-Draconian background check. And they are away from their parents, who have forced their stringent belief system that does not allow for an inch of indulgence. So what drugs do the these kids do? They drink coffee like there is no tomorrow.
BBQ 2: La Puri. Saturday afternoon. People from work.
It was a German House party so I remember sausages. It is a shame I did not write this post when intended. Eloise also made an excellent cheesecake and if I am not mistaken, this was the first time I tasted the German version of taco salad. This taco salad consists of: minced meat, canned corn, iceberg lettuce, crema galore, and chips. I also vaguely remember speaking with an Argentinean, oh Moises (was this the night we spoke of the Mexican beer Noche Buena and whether it is possible to buy it year round?)
Hmm. So what?
I am always so sure that I am a super-being that can remember all. Now, months later, I have no idea what was so special about this gathering that it warranted half a blog entry. The problem with parties from La Puri is that they all blend together. This is partially due to the same settings and partially due to the same people. All of those people are gone now, save a handful of stragglers that will soon depart.
