Mexican Beers - 2 of My Favorites

I don't have a whole to do on weekend evenings these days.  I'm in Mexico, without my family.  I've forgotten what it's like to be alone and go out and do stuff.  I feel like I should be changing a diaper, or doing the laundry. (Come to think of it, I do need to do the laundry.  Funny how I forget about that when I'm alone.)

In order to save money, I've limited myself to visiting some old acquaintances here (who also seem to stay at home with nothing to do), or, in the case of this evening, buy some beer to take home and drink it while reading (and writing) blogs.

Today, while reading some good pages, I've been enjoying two of my favourties: Leon, and - probably tied as my favourite Mexican beer - Negra Modelo.  The other favourite is Noche Buena, which is a special Bock beer sold only at Christmas time; the name means "Christmas Eve" and "Poinsettia," which is the logo of the brand.  Unfortunately, it's still much too early to find Noche Buena.

All of these are dark beers, which tend to be my preference.  However, a good Mexican light-coloured beer is Pacifico, which was originally a contribution from German (or more correctly, German Bohemian) immigrants in the north-west of the country (specifically Mazatlan) who also gave Mexico it's famous Banda music; this music - even in it's countryfied, popified versions - still carries the tradition of the triple beat (ump-pa-pa), the accordion and bass which are so characteristic of the famous Polka brought by the unMexican immigrants.

For most of us, it's rather strange to make any connection between German and Mexican cultures; the seem to be rather polar opposites in so many ways; but there it is, real and unmistakeable - both in the beer and the music.  (Incidentally, my own Germanic roots have come through Mexico.)

The German taste for strength, flavour and distinction combine well with the Mexican taste for easy smoothness and a happy life. (Yes, that's my description of Noche Buena, and applies to Pacifico as well; it could also be a description of parts of my life.)

Cheers!  Prost! and Salud!

(P.S. Still no memory card for the camera; but I remembered that my laptop can take pictures too!  The only problem is it's not convenient for taking pictures in the street.  The memory card will come tomorrow.)

The Beauty of not Knowing the Time

Starting in the late afternoon, I had 3 different appointments today.  After each one ended, I went to the place of the next one, and waited for it to begin.  Not once during the entire evening was I aware of the exact time; I could guess the approximate time by the setting sun and the beginning of each appointment; since Mexicans aren't very punctual, the second point counts for little.

I didn't have a watch on, and I had left my cell phone with my wife.  (She lost hers, and we're still waiting to buy a new one; see Have you ever flushed your phone down the toilet? )

Nor at any given point was it necessary to ask the time or even try to guess.  I only found out the time when I arrived home and realized it was a full hour earlier than I guessed just before entering the door.

I did hurry home; but that was because I was tired and I wanted to see my family; I knew they would all be sound asleep, but I still wanted to see them. There was no pressure from the numbers on a clock.

At one point, on the bus home, I became aware of my lack of knowledge of the time, and the lack of need for  it.  I felt in awe.  It wasn't so much not knowing the time that was beautiful, but more not needing to know the time, and for briefly, not even being aware that you don't know the time or don't need to.

It's like being in a place where there is no electricity - and I don't mean turning the lights off;  I mean no electric current or power source anywhere nearby, above the ground or under it.  Electricity has a light humming, even when all your own lights and appliances are off.  It's impossible to identify that humming when you live in it.  Then one day you arrive to a place where there is no electricity, and the unidentifiable lack of that unaudible humming first haunts you like you are in a strange fantasy world, then overwhelms you with its beauty.  That is true silence.


I felt that way about the time today.  It's the lack of it's ever-present existence in your mind that makes it wonderful.

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"Heaven is a place where everything that is not music is silence." - George MacDonald (I believe I got the quotation from C.S. Lewis)