Mango Mango
The next few restaurants I go to either do not use, or change, or use all of their veggie oil. Two restaurants I need to return to speak with the manager. Even though it is not yet noon, the sun is intense, although the shade is quite pleasant.
I pass a place that is closed but has a large post with the rainbow colors painted on it. Hmmmm - I'm wondering, maybe this is a Lesbian bar!
The next restaurant, an older man allows me to speak to him in Spanish, and then he answers me in english. He is the owner but he needs to speak with the chef, if I can return in the morning.
Well, this is the best I have so far, so of course I agree and jot down in my notebook to return tomorrow.
At Mangos, the next restaurant, I finally hit bonanza! It is quite beautiful, as I descend the stairs from the street and see they branch off in several directions, one leading directly to the beach, others leading to pleasant palm-decorated wooden decks.
At the bottom sandy level, I find a man who is fixing something in the wall. He tells me, I think, the same story, there's another person who picks up their oil. And I ask again, plead, one time for me?
He tells me to go to the next level up where the kitchen is and ask in there. Javier is there, busily spraying water on the floor and clattering things around.
I excuse myself and ask for his used veggie oil. He speaks english, not as good as the old man, but well enough so we understand each other - I HOPE!
Because Javier tells me, if I'm willing to pay $30 pesos for a 20 liter container, he will get me 10 containers. Or at least 5!!! By Wednesday!
We repeat often the amount of gallons I need and I'm willing to pay for. If he gets 10 containers, it will cost me $300 pesos which is about $25. Which is about 50 gallons! And again, no blood.
I am a psyched as I can be here in Mexico, where I have learned to try to contain hopes and disappointments - whether because I lack understanding the exact language, or understanding the culture.
In other words, I won't totally count on it until I pick it up on Wednesday.
I pass a place that is closed but has a large post with the rainbow colors painted on it. Hmmmm - I'm wondering, maybe this is a Lesbian bar!
The next restaurant, an older man allows me to speak to him in Spanish, and then he answers me in english. He is the owner but he needs to speak with the chef, if I can return in the morning.
Well, this is the best I have so far, so of course I agree and jot down in my notebook to return tomorrow.
At Mangos, the next restaurant, I finally hit bonanza! It is quite beautiful, as I descend the stairs from the street and see they branch off in several directions, one leading directly to the beach, others leading to pleasant palm-decorated wooden decks.
At the bottom sandy level, I find a man who is fixing something in the wall. He tells me, I think, the same story, there's another person who picks up their oil. And I ask again, plead, one time for me?
He tells me to go to the next level up where the kitchen is and ask in there. Javier is there, busily spraying water on the floor and clattering things around.
I excuse myself and ask for his used veggie oil. He speaks english, not as good as the old man, but well enough so we understand each other - I HOPE!
Because Javier tells me, if I'm willing to pay $30 pesos for a 20 liter container, he will get me 10 containers. Or at least 5!!! By Wednesday!
We repeat often the amount of gallons I need and I'm willing to pay for. If he gets 10 containers, it will cost me $300 pesos which is about $25. Which is about 50 gallons! And again, no blood.
I am a psyched as I can be here in Mexico, where I have learned to try to contain hopes and disappointments - whether because I lack understanding the exact language, or understanding the culture.
In other words, I won't totally count on it until I pick it up on Wednesday.
posted by Xan @ 11:19 AM
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