Last November marked one year since I haven’t been to Mexico. This is the first time in my life that I have been away from Mexico for so long. This is not the first time I spend so much time far away from my homeland, nevertheless it feels different in many ways.
The other time when I was far away for so long time was in 2004. I spent almost a year living in Brazil. I left for Brazil the first week of August 2004, and came back to Mexico around mid July 2005. Almost a year, but not quite.
I vividly remember that first experience outside Mexico while living in Brazil. It might have been as painful as a detox treatment for hard drug addictions. One month after I landed in Brazil, I would wake up at night after a terrifying nightmare were I could visualize tacos al pastor being cooked, I could smell their potent achiote smell, hear their sizzling as they were served on the table, imagine the lemon pinching ritual and salsa toppings before eating them. I woke up on a 40 degree celsius room, my mouth salivating, and my eyes contemplating the distance, imagining someone in Mexico eating what was being denied to me.
This time it feels a little bit different. I don’t wake up at night with nightmares. I don’t crave as much Mexican food as I did in the past. I don’t know what to attribute this to. Perhaps it is the fact that for the last 5 years I’ve been living in California surrounded by (northern) Mexican food. While not a substitute, it is definitely positive to be within walking distance of an okay salsa, and an okay Mexican market where I can buy Takis, or jalapeños.
Another possibility is that my palate has been changing over the years. I’ve been outside Mexico for seven years now. While living in the U.S., I have been exposed to a myriad of national cuisines that have expanded the range of my culinary tastes and knowledge. By experimenting different cuisines, I’ve found proxy cuisines that are my go-to when I crave Mexican food.
I’ve also been changing my diet a lot. When I was in Mexico, I succumbed to the temptations of street food. I was an addict. I could not walk along a street with flowering food stands without stopping in at least one of them and eating a succulent dish. For a few years now, I’ve started being more mindful of what I eat. I now read the nutritional labels, I started counting the amount of fat, calories and protein that I ingest, and modified my diet accordingly. As a result, I now put a heavy emphasis on vegetables and fish. I stopped drinking coffee. Nowadays, I only drink infusions.
None of this is to imply that I don’t miss Mexican food. I do. I miss Mexico City’s vibrant food scene, with its unparalleled street food, and up-and-coming restaurants. The accessibility of a neighborhood fonda, the pleasure of a fusion restaurant, the incredibly nice weather, the people, and the energy of its streets.
Cities in the U.S. feel sterile, like a hospital. You walk and can only hear the sound of silence. You go to a park and people sit in a civilized manner, rarely interact. There is little outdoor dining (although that is changing because of the pandemic). When you go to a restaurant you’re rushed to get out. It is impossible to find a place where you can just enjoy a meal without end.
The pandemic and immigration paperwork have stranded me in the U.S. for this Christmas and for the foreseeable four to five months. It is what it is. I am glad I don’t have those nightly seizures dreaming of Mexican food. Nevertheless, I am looking forward to the day I land back in that surreal land with streets filled with music, smells, energy, color, vibrancy, chaos, towering mountains and perfect weather.