"Migas" is Spanish for ants. And as best as I can tell, there are no benign ones here in Mazatlan. No, they did not get in the boat. But they are fierce nontheless.
Tuesday night we went out to a restaurant and club in the old section of Mazatlan. The restaurant, called Pedro and Lola's (after the famous Mexican entertainers Pedro Infante and Lola Beltran) is located on Machado Square. Mazatlan is divided up into a couple different sections. Old Town Mzatlan (which includes it's big harbor) is on the south end of town. The architecture is colonial, many of the streets are cobbled, and it is where the big cathedral and museums are, as well as the municipal market. Further north is the Gold Zone, where all the tourist hotels and stuff like that are located. Our marina is at the north end of that area. Then there is Nuevo Mazatlan, which is north of here and I have not seen much of that. So anyway, we went to this restaurant in the Old Town area. I was sitting happily at a sidewalk seat, looking over the menu and wishing it were possible to have ten different entrees at once because everything looked so good. Then I felt the top of my foot start to sort of itch and tingle in a burny way, like with stinging nettles. I wondered what I had gotten into. How could I have walked through nettles when all I did was take a cab from the marina hotel to the restaurant? The sensation got worse, and I finally asked Mike what I could have gotten into. I looked at my foot and did not see anything. Mike looked under the table and informed me our table was on top of a big bunch of ants. Yikes! They were biting me! We moved to a different table, and since I didn't have my dictionary with me, I simply said "insectas" hoping that was right. The waiter started saying "Migas! Migas!" and moved us. I didn't see them do anything about the ants, but the next people to be seated at that particular table were a group of men with closed shoes on.
The music that night, however, was worth any amount of ant bites. There was an electric piano, drums, a five string electric base, and a guitar. The musicians were a mix of Mexican kids and gringos. Later a harmonica, trumpet, saxaphone, flute, and conga drums showed up. I am not very well versed in jazz, but this music sent me to heaven and back. And this was an open mike night! The kid on the guitar could not have been over 20 at the very oldest - he looked about sixteen. (Had to be at least 18 because he was drinking beer.) His slender fingers flew over the frets in a way I have rarely seen. It was hard to believe that most of them did not play together on any kind of a regular basis. It sounded like each piece had been practiced over and over - and yet very spontaneous at the same time. I have never really been to a jazz performance - I thought I really didn't like it because my only experience is either Kenny G or some sort of shrieking, squawking horns that don't make any sense. I was certainly wrong! I can hardly wait for next Tuesday night at Pedro and Lola's!
The previous Sunday we went to a different marina than ours where some friends have their boats. The way we met these people is interesting. It also requires some background and is a window into how things work for us these days. Way back in Turtle Bay, we lost one of our dinghy wheels. (Dinghy wheels are small wheelbarrow-type wheels that fit into slots on the back of the dinghy. They are handy for pulling the dinghy more easily up onto the shore after landing it on a beach. They can also be used to raise the back of the dinghy up so you can keep the engine on to power yourself through shallow surf.) So we needed a new wheel, and discovered we couldn't get one here. We then contacted the company in Long Beach that sells them, and the guy we talked to felt the wheel was lost due to a design flaw. He said he would just send us a new one (we were prepared to buy a whole new set) IF we would do him a favor and look up a friend of his who was living here in Mazatlan on a boat at a different marina. We agreed to do so. This all happened before we left for the US. So we found the guy and took him out for beers and burgers. We really liked him and he liked us, so now we are all good friends and also friends with his friends at his marina. Anyway, this marina is not as fancy as ours, but it is hipper, for lack of a better term. (We were informed that we are at the "yuppy" marina, not the "hippie" marina or the one where the "boat bums" are.) This new marina has a big palapa bar and restaurant, and every Sunday and Thursday they have live music - old time rock and roll. It is wonderful!!!! All sorts of people our age, dancing and playing music. I just wish I played well enough to join them. And everyone is unpretentious and down to earth and friendly.
Since beginning this lifestyle, for the first time in my life, I feel like I really fit in. Like I have found my niche. I always felt as though I had to tailor myself to the people around me if I wanted them to like me, and of course that isn't possible. Here, I don't feel any pressure to make a presentation. I am just ME. And that seems to be enough. Life is good. I don't want to come back. I want this to go on forever.
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