Day 11: When there are no alcohol options to be had.
We arrive in the border town after dark, after our stomach’s expecting feeding hour, and after getting stiff and crampy from many hours behind the wheel. The hotel check-in is fast and easy, then we’re off on a food hunt. The collection of food trucks in a nearby flat lot had caught our eye driving in, so we headed straight over there. No discussion needed.
The whole scene is the kind that a hip NYT foodie reporter would turn cartwheels over. Unique local cuisine, never-heard-of before menu items, Spanglish being spoken all around, people vignettes playing out at each table, twinkly lights … As for drinks, folding tables in front of the food trucks sag in the middle from the weight of the colorful agua fresca jars. Crates with real sugar CocaCola in small bottles are stacked below.
This is not the place where I can find that much anticipated glass of wine — the perfect anti-dote to the long and weary drive. Thankfully I’m not looking for that tonight! What freedom there is in this! I slurp down the horchata and am completely happy and satisfied. We stay and soak in the ambiance and flavors, rather than eating and running … back to the hotel bar.
Chalk up another win for “Drynuary”.