Another Day in Paradise

We met some friends in Nuevo Progreso yesterday. This is a little border town on the south bank of the Rio Grande River. It has a private bridge with a canopy to protect pedestrians from inclement weather and provide shade. The streets are paved with pharmacias and the offices of dentistas as well as shops and street stalls that sell the kinds of things no one needs but everyone wants.

We did a little bar hopping and dined at the Red Snapper where the food is good and the margaritas were two-for-one happy-hour specials. Juan plays the electric guitar there. He plays just opposite the entrance and whenever I come in I am greeted with a warm hug. We exchange greetings of “mi amiga” and “mi amigo.” Juan plays a lot of Beatles tunes so we’ve nicknamed him Juan Lennon. He gave me a new CD he’s cut, but I haven’t had time to listen to it.

After a good meal we walked down to the Mercado area where we found a table at Arriba’s. We like the combo that plays there. The floor is made of moderately slick tiles, perfect for dancing when wearing rubber soled shoes. We danced. I love to dance.

We left our friends a little early as we had a bottle of duty-free Absolute Vodka that we had to liberate before 5 PM. We also stopped for some avocados.

These are not ordinary avocados. They are larger than bosc pears. They are also tree-ripened. There is no comparison between a tree-ripened avocado and the ovoid, green baseballs one purchases in the supermarket. The Mexican ones are rich, creamy and ready to eat.

The US customs laws prevent importation of fruit with stones or pits, so the vendors remove the pits and replace them with jalapeno pepper. The young woman we buy our avocados from wields a large knife. She picks up the avocado in one hand, and with the other, in a fluid, continuous motion, slices the avocado, whacks the pit to embed the knife, twists it to remove the pit, disengages it from her knife and stabs the point into a bit of jalapeno which she places into the vacancy. The hand holding the avocado closes the two halves and drops it into a clear, plastic bag. It took you longer to read this than it takes her to prepare four avocados for export.

We were home less than an hour when the gang we’d left at Arriba’s rang the bell. We made coffee and continued the party.