INTER-CAMBIO...y el sabor de mis primeros chapulinas
In the surrounding parts of the zocolo, there is a special sort of pick up line that happens between the native and the tourist. It derived from the spanish schools attended by young rebellious adventure seekers, strange hippies, and rich widows. The word 'inter-cambio' means a conversational exchange between two people of differing mother touges but desireable target languages.
The day before yesterday a man approached me first for the time, and then asked if I would be interested in finding a bar and having an 'intercambio´. Giggling, I accepted the invitation and sat down with the little zapapan man over several beers, snacks, and a lengthy conversation in spanish about Juan Gabriel (the michael jackson of mexico), oaxacan tourists, and how to get a teaching position at the prepatoria. Amidst the styrofoam plates of spicy peanuts, limes, and tacos that come complimentary in all bars here, I pulled out my bag of chapulinas that I had just purchased in the market. (I have since found out that they are not raised in farms or anything, that children collect them in the parks in plastic bags and their mother's prepare them for the markets to sell.) He picked up the little lime and chile coated grasshoppers by the handful and tossed them into his mouth smiling and crunching away. I was grateful for the encouragement and the cervezas which helped me finally to muster up the courage to eat four or five of them myself. They have a very distinct taste and smell that is bitter. I kept belching afterward...but that might have been psychological
After about four beers, I told the guy that I needed to head back to the hotel to meet my friend. He suggested he buy some mota/yerba from the guy behind the bar. I told him I really wasn't interested... Esta mas tranquila aqui he kept repeating over and over again upon my refusals.
Eventually the check arrived. I asked him for his half of the money for the beers, which he tapdanced around. Understanding that I'd been tricked into buying the guy some beers in exhange for the language lessons, I accepted the bill with a little chuckle. No wonder the northamerican tourist had such a warm place in his heart I thought.