This morning I am drawn to a particular memory that I cherish very much. It is its poignancy that made it last in my neurons. The event in question took place last year, 2007, during the month of July. I was off in Tijuana on a vacation that I had long awaited to take. During that period of my life I was very much on the lookout for beers, a particular interest of mine which I enjoy very much and whenever there is a chance to try out something new I eagerly seek it out. During a little stint in San Diego I went with my aunt and uncle of Chula Vista to an old part of San Diego called Old Town. This particular haunt eeks out a living by caving in to tourists who wish to remember the Old San Diego when it used to be Mexican although most of the trinkets sold there have as much to do with Old México as waterpipes have to do with Eskimos. Now, one would think that its o.k to draw attention to the fact that México lost territories to the US during the 1848 war which it is off course true but the fact that one cannot bring about the fact to gringos that Old Town was once Mexican is not so palpable. It just makes it all too real for gringos for the mere fact that those usually asking tend to be Mexican themselves.
This little nitch of business housed on historical property is even more bizarre to the eye because the warping of authenticity bellies a glowing shine of falsehood all over its facade. Need I also mention that for a historical site this joint is also a distortion of several pieces of history but by the time one comes to that conclusion one is engulfed by the silly old bliss that permeates the atmosphere and just permits us to let go and let be. Eitherway, the kin and I decided to check out a restaurant that sold Mexican food. Now, you must take into account that San Diego is very close to México, so close that if had we but decided to go back to México and eat Mexican food in México it would have taken us less than 10 minutes to do so. So México is like a spit away so to say. This also ties in with my little description of Old Town because being so close to México San Diego’s Old Town is a poor copy of its old self bearing in mind that one could be better at refurnishing Old Town with its former glory had one but only wished so. So there we are, in that restaurant and me being eager to try out something new by way of beers I decided to ask for the imported variety. I swear to god that when I heard the list of imported beers my insides just went into shock mode. I do not know if this state of being betrayed my exterior but I remember I remained silent, in shock at hearing the list, but silent.
The list of imported beers all bore names of the town next door, that is Tijuana, México. Now technically it is imported beer but for the love of christ how much can one deceive itself. And it is this sort of daily deceit gringos play on one another or at the very least make the local native swallow to separate them from the rest of the frey called México.