Write often, come back later

I bought a small journal that I carry around in my back pocket. I think it was my first blog ever that I mentioned most of these posts are a compilation of notes I write down on the spot. I think I mentioned this before but my mind works like the movie Memento. I’ll think of something I deem worthy of remembering and know I have a calculated amount of time before I 100% won’t remember it. Many people can corroborate this. The point of all this is that I bought a small journal that I carry around everywhere with me now. It took me long enough since I know I prefer a pen and paper for on the spot thoughts. I have 3 or so other journals at home from other trips that I really enjoy re-reading. So this is the first blog that will have pieces from my new journal.

The point of this blog as a whole was always to be an external facing diary. I purposely don’t ask for readers, although I love all of you that read this. It’s my real thoughts for anyone close to me that wants to follow along, anyone interested in the mind of someone who took a risk to follow a dream, or who might be considering doing the same. And of course it’s for attention. I like attention.

Here is a summary of something I wrote in my journal the other day. I’ve been traveling alone long enough that the mind starts to wonder. I wake up in my private room in a shared house. It’s not nice, but it’s safe and the people reply with a kind “buenes dias” when I walk by. The light bulbs don’t have fixtures, there are wild dogs outside. It’s on a hillside so all of the roofs are connected in a slope, think of where your mind goes when you hear the word “barrio.” I also have a view worthy of the most attended to Instagram accounts. I’m alone in Oaxaca, Mexico. I quit my job 6 months ago. How can I not ask myself what the heck I’m doing here? Is this normal? While I wouldn’t call it normal, I did have a powerful thought, which caused me to write all this down. The thought was that I am still in control, dammit. I’ve made decisions necessary to keep me on a path to achieve a goal. This is what taking a risk is, for better or worse.

I made a large stride toward meeting my goal by getting a job. I’ve worked the past 4 days in a professional kitchen. After 2 days in Oaxaca I knew I needed to get moving, I did not want to continue not working. I got the name of a restaurant from my friend’s cousin who I met once months ago in Chicago. I knew he used to live in Oaxaca and became an expert on Mezcal before opening Quiote back home. So I walked in one day and got drunk on Mezcal and met the chef. There was a powerful earthquake as we were chatting. The next day I went in and had his 12 course tasting menu. It was absolutely stellar. I’d eaten at Enrique Olvera’s place, Criollo, the night before. It was so underwhelming I was worried the Oaxaca scene wasn’t what it was talked up to be. But this was different. Each course, and it’s drink pairing, was spot on. They were beautifully plated, the flavors were unique and complex and, most importantly with these strong ingredients, perfectly balanced. This was the first experience in all my travels since school that I was truly impressed by a restaurant. That seemed to have the type of ethos I was looking for. Somewhere I could be proud to work at, especially if I start out washing dishes, which I’ll get to later.

He came back to chat with me at the end of the night. I simply said that I wanted to be a part of it. So he said “great, come in on Tuesday at 2.”

So I went in on Tuesday with ZERO idea what to expect. The deal was made when I was completely lit thanks to their 12 drink pairings. I wore jeans and a t-shirt.. I didn’t know if I’d be spending a couple hours to observe or what. 12 hours and a super busy night later, I had finished my first ever dinner service. Holy shit. First off, the crew is fast. As I was told to expect, they’re always doing several things at once. It’s the only way to keep up with several tables, all expecting all 12 courses to come out hot and at the same time. The kitchen is tiny, mind you. 6 burners and a kick ass wood burning oven. I was thrown right in to the fire, observing the entire time, feeling the adrenaline.

I haven’t named the restaurant on purpose. I want to. I’d love to be attached to this place and what they’re doing. But at this point it’s not fair to the people that actually make it go. I can’t work 4 days and start blasting out on Social Media that I’m working there. It’d be an un-earned “look at me.” I’m sure I’ll mention it later on.

I’ve also been apartment hunting since it looks like I’m going to be here a while. Apartment hunting is a difficult task given that the internet is simply not used in an efficient way for this. Of course there is airbnb but I’ve been told by several locals that it’s an absolute rip off and you can get a nice furnished apartment for half the cost. So I’ve been walking around looking for signs. That’s how it’s done here. You either call the number or knock on the door. I’ve tried calling several places but it never ends well. I say my piece in broken Spanish and they rattle off a reply that loses me after 3 words. We awkwardly go back and forth till someone just hangs up. So I’ve been knocking on doors with mixed success. I finally found a place I LOVE today. 2 bedrooms with a private roof deck with a view. But he quoted me way over what it should go for. So I offered less. He said he’ll get back to me. Cross your fingers for me because I’m anxious to get out of the shared house that I’m now paying 200 pesos a night cash for.

Let’s end with some general thoughts to date on Oaxaca:

• Oaxaca is a food destination, no doubt. From the world class restaurants to the comedors in the markets to the villages where it all began. People are proud of their food here.
• Tacos are common. But they’re just as common as tortas, tlayudas, enchiladas, enmoladas (same as enchilada but with mole negro), tamales, tasajo, quesadillas de flor (the ones w/ squash flowers), and many other things I haven’t tried yet.
• Oaxaca has some very unique sounds. There are accordions, guitars and trumpets on the streets. Dogs barking at night. Street vendors selling everything. And of course the cooking gas truck that comes around before 8am every morning blaring a jingle out of a loudspeaker that will be with me for the rest of my days. Sorry for the vertical video, but here’s the truck turning around in front of my room:

And here are some other photos, starting with some of the street art, which is everywhere and pretty awesome IMO.

And here is some of the food, starting with some of the dishes at the restaurant I now work at:

Finally, I’ll leave you with a quote I wrote in my journal the day I got it.

“Dear Self,

Write here often. Come back and read it later. This is your best life.”

Feb 19, 2018.

Thanks for reading!