It’s Backwards Day

Or Backwards Nine Days. Or le monde à l’envers, to quote Vincent. Because he is in California (on business), whereas I am not. This is a somewhat sucky situation on many levels.

I’ve been talking to him every day, of course, and I can practically smell the corn tortillas through the phone (actually, headset). I couldn’t stand it any more, so I decided today to go and check out Al Sol De Mexico, a little Mexican boutique I passed one day in the Marais at least a year ago. It was closed then, but I wrote down the address and put it in my Google map for future reference. I thought it was a grocery store, but it’s mostly stuff, with only a few rare and precious food items, like chipotles in adobado sauce and masa…

I was caught off guard by the strong emotional reaction I had when I walked into this shop, which you will only understand if you’re from somewhere in the southwestern US (or Mexico) and you now live at around 48° 52′ N or higher. And even though it was a bright, sunny day in Paris, when I went into Al Sol De México, I felt like I’d stepped through the Atavachron…

As I said the other day, we had an icky winter. Everybody in Paris wears black, brown, gray, all winter, and the colors don’t get much brighter in the warmer months. For someone with my background, it can get really depressing. (No wonder these people don’t smile much.)

This made me smile:

I bought food. 607 grams of it (21.4112 oz), for a total of 16.35 EUR ($22.9163). (Sorry Vincent.) Which is why I beg all my friends to bring me certain food items when they come here.

I didn’t buy any stuff, but I wanted to. There were lovely, hand-embroidered “peasant” blouses in organic cotton for women and girls, even tiny girls. The cherished painted and pounded tin decorations (my absolute favorite). The familiar floral motifs on ceramics and fabrics. Terra cotta… Color. Whimsy. Home.

It gets better. All the items in the store are fair trade items, handmade by various indigenous peoples of Mexico (from the Michoacan, Oaxaca, Yucatan, Puebla, and Veracruz regions). The owners are all about sustainable development and supporting native artists and artisans. Excellent.

I took advantage of the situation to ask the owner for the name of the best Mexican restaurant in Paris. Told her I’d tried three and they were pas terrible (that’s French for sucks/sucked). She said there are two best restaurants, Casa Palenque and Anahuacalli. The latter is just a few blocks away from where I live. Bonus! (Sorry Vincent.)

Just a street over from Al Sol De México, and a block or so south, is the Instituto Cultural de México, which I’ve passed many times.

The institute offers exhibits, concerts, dance, theater, and more, if you’re craving a little gusto de México. The site has all the details.

Now don’t get me wrong. I have no plans to leave France. Ever. I belong here. But I can’t obliterate my roots; wouldn’t want to. And I’m allowed to miss my madeleines from time to time.

So if you’re a Californian in this strange land, and you need a little taste of home, you have a few options.

Anybody up for margaritas any time soon? If not, you can get margaritas and other blended cocktails by mail from Lt. Blender’s Cool Cocktails. All natural!

Or Backwards Nine Days. Or le monde à l'envers, to quote Vincent. Because he is in California (on business), whereas I am not. This is a somewhat sucky situation on many levels. I've been talking to him every day, of course, and I can practically smell the corn tortillas through the phone (actually, headset). I couldn't stand it any more, so I decided today to go and check out Al Sol De Mexico, a little Mexican boutique I passed one day in the Marais at least a year ago. It was closed then, but I wrote down the address and put it in my Google map for future reference. I thought it was a grocery store, but it's mostly stuff, with only a few rare and precious food items, like chipotles in adobado sauce and masa... I was caught off guard by the strong emotional reaction I had when I walked into this shop, which you will only understand if you're from somewhere in the southwestern US (or Mexico) and you now live at around 48° 52' N or higher. And even though it was a bright, sunny day in Paris, when I we