el campo

The first time my mom came to Mexico, she was stunned. My dad hopped on his father's horse as if he'd been doing so his entire life. (He had). This past trip, I was able to truly appreciate his country boy-ness; in addition to the sincere warmth and kindness of my grandparents, extended family, and their neighbors. But, not before surviving the bumpy 4-hour ride from the Guadalajara airport.

Upon our famished arrival, mi abuela called for tostadas and tacos, and mi abuelo broke out the mezcal. (I tasted the strong, smoky alcohol, then opted to share a beer with my mom). The simple and standard meal might as well have been the best of my entire life. And the nightcap chat that followed, quickly led to a heavy slumber... interrupted only by a crowing rooster early the next morning.