Can you imagine having a liquor license for over twenty years, and never using it ? Well, that’s me. I know - stupid, you say. And finally when Casa Mexilio opened the bar for weekend imbibers, I had reached a vintage age and was possibly the oldest barman in Merida.
It was the melodrama and intrigue of "Rick's Café Américain" and the grim tension and uncertainty of 1940s Morocco that fueled my bar fantasy. I wanted whatever it was that "makes the spine tingle and the heart take a leap”.
The Merida expat scene, mentioned in a previous post, is in flux, and it evolves as I write. They drink mainly wine, whereas the university age patrons drink mainly beer. Mexicans drink beer and Gringos drink wine. Young drinking age Mexican women are beer drinkers. We sell zero cocktails to Mexicans, not even the occasional margarita.
In the late 80s and 90s, you were lucky to find three different wines in the supermarket; among them ‘Calafia’, ‘Padre Kino’ and maybe a California ‘Gold Seal’. Of these, Padre Kino always won the blind taste tests !
Today you find thousands. There’s a beer bar in town that serves at least two hundred different beer labels, but on the beer aisle of the grocery story, there are only ten or twelve.
And so we continue searching for the humor, pathos, the bristling intrigue and the taut melodrama. It eludes us.