days of la pesca

remembering ...

days of la pesca

the sign out front was proudly lit, 'cocina de la abuela', grandmother's kitchen.

the screen door squeaked as it was opened by an elderly couple exiting out into the hot summer's eve. it was humid as well, damn near meeting the same number.

the swirling breeze made possible by the ancient belt driven ceiling fans offered some relief without much effort on their part.

the tables and wooden chairs were an array of mismatched finds over the years from here and there, some even brought down as gifts from flea markets across the border by the gringo patrons that regularly visited this oasis on the gulf coast owned and operated by a trio of owners and their daughters. it was indeed a treasure off the beaten path mostly unknown to the stingy tourists that came only to find cheap quantity rather than quality.

bright neon signs across the back wall boasted cold beverage in a dance of prismatic display.

off in the far corner was the tired and worn 25 cent pool table, a remnant dinosaur of days long past. there was an assortment of cue sticks hanging on the wall that had a large cardboard sign reading  

"NO GAMBLING ALLOWED", "NO SE PERMITEN APUESTAS!"

we chose the table in the opposite corner close to the windows and shifted the bottles of hot sauce and paper napkin rack to the side unused by of us.

we had driven down crossing the border earlier that day to spend a week lying about and fishing the skinny waters of the bay for trophy sized redfish that were often found here regularly. we had been here many times, as this was our favorite escape from the grueling ways of stateside.

eva, the eldest of the grandmothers was there to greet us as we wiggled our butts about the cushioned seats settling down to a much needed and highly wanted comfort after the 3-hour drive from matamoras. the road was not a primary way and had many cracks and midsized holes in it's surface that gave little offering for comfort before it became a well worn dirt passage that followed the coastline for the last 40 miles. we had taken my old 4 wheel drive truck that has seen better days, but it was air conditioned and the seats were whole and semi comfortable.

"hola amigos! so glad to see you again. bienvenido,  welcome what can i get you?"

she said with a smile that could melt ice or anyone's heart. a flurry of meaningful hugs was exchanged  as evidence of true friendship.

"do you need rooms or do you want to sleep in the hamacas in the palapa?"

"this time" i said, "we need rooms. there is not much breeze, and the fans will feel good."

"si senor pescador!" she smiled again as she spoke the nickname given to me by one of her grand daughters that did not know my name, substituting the spanish word for fisherman instead. it was a small honor that the locals laughed about amongst themselves without any demeaning value but rather in a complimentary way.

we were amongst friends that acted towards each other rather like family more than just another casually known.

"and do we start with cold beverage?" she asked knowing the answer already as she raised her hand with two fingers held high above the rest. 

"dos cervezas for our friends! they look thirsty from the drive!"

quickly maria, the eldest grand daughter , brought two 7 oz offerings of corona known as pequenas coronas or little crowns that were more than a bargain at 25 cents each.

"are we running a tab? or will you be paying as you go?" she asked smiling wildly all the while giving an abbreviated curtsey.

"here ms bonito start with this and call for more when it runs out' my youngest brother spoke as he handed her a small wad of bills, calling her by the complimentary word for beautiful as she was indeed a beauty, even if in an unspoken way.

she blushed just as before on our many trips down and quickly grabbed the cash offered and made her way back to the counter that served as a three stool bar and hidden cash register under the counter that was but an old cigar box. it was such simplistic beauty in itself.

"i know your ways senor and this" she said waving the money in the air "is but down payment! you will need mas dinero before you are done!"

"i hope you brought more cause we have a dishwasher already!"

the few patrons laughed at the running joke and raised their bottles in salute to all.

"and now, what to eat? tacos? carnitas? camarones? huevos rancheros perhaps? or will you be only quenching your thirst?' 

eva asked in her part english, part spanish way known as texmex, a blending of two languages that served the locals of the south texas and northern mexico border areas. at times it was hard to separate the two as decades of cross border exchange had created it's own identity.

"whatever is easiest for you senor, it is all muy bueno" she said just as i brought the first of many cold ones to my lips in anticipation of tomorrow's day being spent on the flats stalking the elusive redfish that had been calling my name since our last trip down to this wonderous  home away from home.

"maria, otra cervezas por favor! we are muy thirsty!"

"and the fish ... well, they will still be there manana, but tonight we dance, we dine, we drink!"

"god damn it just don't get better than this, now does it bubba?"