I think I mentioned quite a few times how wonderful it is to be a “stranger in a strange land”.
On this particular day in Mexico, I told my friend where I was staying that I would like to see the places where her late father would go to do business. She came from a once wealthy family that had some pig or cattle business. In the end not much of the fortune remained because even though they lived in a very very small village, even there supermarkets and refrigerators eventually came and basically cut their business to a tenth of what it was.
But in her father’s heyday he would make the rounds across several neighboring villages to do business.
So we left early so we could really stop at the various places for me to see and take pictures.
Several times people would stop us, it was amazing to see how the older people would still recognize her as the youngest daughter of the once so influential cattle baron.
A few of them welcomed us in their house or at the taqueria or cantina they were at. Drinks, food, they would not hear, it was on them.
Needless to say at the end of the day I was stuffed. And drunk. Because some older gentlemen don’t think it strange to offer you tequila at 10:15 in the morning. Or 2:15. Or 3:35. Ad infinitum.
I have folders and folders of pictures of that trip as it lasted a few months. And endless stories.
this is sorta what i go through, but instead it’s my grandfather that everyone knows. one time my cousins and i went berry picking because we couldn’t get summer jobs, and some random man told us to say hello to our grandpa for him. we didn’t even know who he was! but its crazy to know how influential my family was in mexico.