Pregled posta

Marketing

Wednesday noon, March 8, Zipolite, Oaxaca
My journal has fallen a couple of days behind as a result of a poor choice of “dining establishments” on Monday night. It is a humbling and miserable experience to have food poisoning anywhere, but being alone in a foreign country seems to make the discomfort even greater. I was laid low for about 36 hours. Fortunately I have met a few very nice people here who were very helpful. A gay couple from L.A., Paco and Ron, loaned me a stack of dvds that they had with them, so yesterday afternoon I laid in bed and watched “North Country” with Charlize Theron. Did I phrase that correctly? I wasn’t actually in bed with Charlize Theron.
Earlier in the day, while trying to recuperate on the beach, I received a tip from a woman named Suzy who recommended that I go last night to an establishment called “Casa de Marcos”. She told me that the proprietor made a delicious Thai noodle soup that would be good medicine and that he also showed movies in the evening on his patio which had a very unique ambience. Feeling somewhat strenghtened by about 7:00 yesterday evening I decided to take her advice.
I would like to try and describe what that experience was like.

I saw a flyer for Casa de Marcos which described the location as near Roca Blanca on the hill behind the Pharmacia. I had seen the Pharmacia which also advertised as Medico Consultorio. The pharmacist offers a sort of short cut so that you don’t actually have to go to the doctor for a prescription. Imagine that.
Anyway I knew where the pharmacy was, so I drove my little car and parked at the foot of the hill. I saw the Casa de Marcos sign at the bottom of some steep stairs leading up to a patio festooned in strands of colored lights. I started walking up the hill and said good evening to the pharmacist who was sitting on his front porch as I passed by. A little more climbing and I was on Marco’s patio. There, arranged very comfortably in the open, were a couple of couches and a variety of sizes and types of chairs. At the front was a screen for the movie, probably six feet by sixteen feet. Behind all the chairs, a digital projector, a dvd player and a sound system. Adjacent to the patio was a small round dwelling with a thatched roof. There was no one sitting in the chairs and I saw no in the casa. But then Marcos appeared. He is a very sophisticated looking, greying, bespectacled gentleman dressed completely in loose white clothing. I will learn later that he is from Poland, but has lived in the United States and Thailand (where he became a Bhuddist), before moving to Mexico. I tell him that I have come for the soup and he says, “ah yes, it will take just a minute.”
I take a seat alone in the front row of the theatre, the first to arrive. Then I really start to absorb the atmosphere. I can see inside Marcos’ home. It is probably 20 feet in diameter. There is a bed, and a small kitchen where he is preparing the soup. On the walls are a tapestry of shiva like figure and a large wooden carving of figures which appear to be Christian saints, but I can’t really tell. Candles are everywhere, and incense fills the air. The house is immaculately arranged for simple living and as a place of business.
There is some very atmospheric music playing. I would describe it as a latin “Hearts of Space” sound. The colored lights are draped overhead through palm trees and are adjusted to a low moody level. I am lapsing into a dream state when Marcos appears with the soup. A large bowl with chopsticks and the traditional asian soup spoon, is filled with chicken broth, noodles, cilantro, carrots, green beans, mushrooms, etc. The flavor is delicious and I know that this will in fact cure what lingers of my malady. Now more people begin to arrive, and as each enters the patio “buenos noches” echoes through the air. A blond woman from Stockholm sits down next to me and tells me a little about her six month adventure in Mexico. She is joined by a Russian woman who tells similar stories. The place begins to fill with people which probably amounts to a crowd ofabout 25. Some are having the soup, all are waiting for the movie. Marcos is busy tending to his patrons and filling a few orders for margaritas. Tonight’s showing is “Amores Perros”, an intense film about life in Mexico City. At exactly 8:30 Marcos disappears behind a gold curtain in his house like something from the Wizard of Oz. The lights are very gradually dimmed, the background music, too, and the movie begins. The audience is quiet, but somewhat ill at ease throughout the 2.5 hour movie. It is a gritty and violent picture of urban Mexican life. A story of multiple characters entertwined with similarly unfortunate and tragic fates.
The movie ends, the lights come back up and Marcos reappears in front of the screen to say “thank you for coming”. Each guest, in turn, quietly steps up to Marcos’ door to pay their bills. For soup, $2.50, f

At Singapur. A musician, she plays some traditional Asian instruments.