While riding the rickety bus into Puerto Vallarta last night, I was suddenly struck with the irony of my situation. Last week, we spent more than our first mortgage to purchase a vehicle with multiple safety features and more airbags than balloons at a birthday party, just to keep me safe on my daily thirteen minute commute to and from work. And now, here I was, careening around corners, surfing over speed bumps, and tailgating a Toyota pickup so closely I could read the labels on the beer bottles of the five locals hanging out of the box of the truck.
Vacation. Adventure. And just plain fun.
The Mexicans have such a relaxed attitude toward life, so different from us safety-conscious Canadians. Sometimes I think it's enviable. I mean do we really need all these laws to protect us from ourselves? Couldn't we just use common sense?
And that brings me to the subject of this blog: food. And that's where my envy for their casual attitude ends.
Food safety. To me, it is paramount. I'm careful about what goes into my body. Andrea calls me "Organic Grandma". I choose my ingredients carefully and prepare most meals from scratch. When we eat out, I feel semi-protected by FoodSafe BC standards.
This morning at breakfast I watched a waiter clearing the table next to us. He moved two glasses of orange juice, one half empty and the other full . . . or had it had a sip or two taken from it? . . . and put one on the cart headed for the kitchen and the full one on the serving cart. If he hadn't caught me watching him, that suspicious juice would have stayed there to be "recycled" to some unsuspecting guest, but he sheepishly reconsidered and sent it back to the kitchen. Don't get me going about the guacamole and salsa fresca containers. . . And this is a five-star.
But then, I have to remind myself that this is Mexico, that I am on vacation, and that I'm here to just relax and have fun.
Bring it on.