We headed to the one part of TJ that I wasn’t that excited to tour. The part with which everyone seems to associate the city – Avendida Revolucion, the grimy collection of strip clubs, bars and prostitution. He promised me the place would be worth the diversion. Still? Really? Ok... The streets here looked nothing like the shopping mall we had just left. It was the first time all day that I felt Derrik was rolling the dice when he parked his car. He almost seemed doubtful it would be there when we returned. We made our way through the stained streets, past men loitering outside of seedy dark bars to what looked like the opening to an office building. Behind two sturdy glass commercial doors was a reception area whose couch, table and lamps reminded me of my late grandmother’s living room. Behind the faux wall was La Mezcalera. A super hip, local trafficfocused Mezcal bar. We plopped down in the main bar and perused the menu. This bar was opened on La Sexta in 2009 as an opposition to the rowdy bars we had just walked past. They were succeeding in their opposition. In the hour or so we sat at the bar, we sipped Mezcal straight (firewater), tried it as a Pina Colada cocktail, as a Cremas de Mezcal (yummy) and nibbled on roasted grasshoppers for an appetizer. As I sat at the bar, a lemon resting on the napkin that also held my last few grasshoppers, my head a little foggy from my drink, I realized how far from the US I felt right then. We were only a few miles away but it felt like hundreds, thousands maybe. I was on a vacation. Mexico was not scary. It was an adventure an hour from home. As we said our goodbyes and started walking across the border, I promised Derrik I’d return for one of his tours. After this local-guided, insider experience of TJ, I will definitely keep that promise.
| Indian Summer 2013 Issue | 135