MeXscape

One of the things I love about living in Mazatlan is the likelihood of encountering something wondrous and awe inspiring. I can be plodding along through an average day and unexpectedly find myself confronted with something that makes me feel like a child at Christmas. It's these little gifts for the soul that make Mazatlan such a special place, and my home.

Our getting-ready-for-bed routine was disrupted by an appallingly loud noise in the front of our house. It sounded like someone trying to pound their way through our front gate. Chuck and I looked at each other, and he went to peek out the window to see what was going on. As he was headed through the living room, the noise changed to resemble something more like someone hammering on concrete with a large sledgehammer. I nervously waited for Chuck to come back. When he did, his shoulders were shaking with laughter. Dying to find out why, I rushed to the window to have a look for myself.

No, they are not golf carts on steroids, they are pulmonias - modified VW Things and the cutest public transportation I have ever seen. They are unique to Mazatlan. Regular taxi drivers started calling them pulmonias, the Spanish word for pneumonia, intimating that the ride in the open air air cars would make you sick. They were trying the squash the competition for fares in its fledgling stage. It didn't work. You see them everywhere. But the name stuck.

When people discover I am a year-rounder, and, in fact, have not left Mazatlan since I moved here three years ago, they often ask me if there are any foods that I miss. My answer is always a quick and unequivocal yes. I don't need to think about it. My little Texan heart yearns for Chicken Fried Steak.