Pepe’s Fish Tacos

(I wrote this piece for my writing workshop in September of 2020. We were still at the beginning of the Covid pandemic.  It would be months before I would get my first vaccine shots. I went to Puerto Escondido, a coastal town in Oaxaca, Mexico,  by myself, anyway. I stayed at a little Air B n B that had an unobstructed view of the ocean but no hot water. The hot water thing didn’t matter very much, because it was humid and a cold shower felt fine. I ate at a lot of different restaurants. This is a little story about one of them.)

Last night, I had supper for the second time at Pepe’s Fish Tacos restaurant.

The first time I was there, Pepe didn’t have change for my two hundred peso bill (about $10). I still owed him $1.00 or so. He told me to come back again, that I could make up the difference next time.

Pepe’s place has a dirt floor. There are chickens running around. Also, a few dogs. The first time I was there, one of the dogs greeted me by licking my leg.

Pepe’s tacos are worth it, though. The shrimp is breaded in coconut and fried, and the tortillas are topped with a pile of cabbage, pineapple and mango. And then there are the salsas that accompany them. Happiness by the spoonful.

Last time I was there, I was the only customer. I think that tourism is still slow here because of the COVID. This time, though, there was a group of twenty somethings, all seated together. I was grateful not to be the only person, actually. It took me a long time to exit after I paid (or didn’t pay) on my first visit, because Pepe wanted to talk about COVID, and why he didn’t believe in wearing masks, and how people who got COVID probably did because they had negative thinking and were depressed. And why wouldn’t you be depressed, wearing a mask all the time?

At least that’s what I think he said. He was speaking English (he had lived in Hawaii, which is where he learned the secret of the coconut shrimp), but it was hard for me to follow. I imagine that’s what it is like for a lot of my Spanish speaking friends here with me. I think I’m communicating something, but they look a little confused and smile and nod. Which is what I did with Pepe. Also, I was grateful that his restaurant was outside, because of his anti-mask sentiments, and that I could stand a good distance away from him as he talked and we worked out the change (or lack of change) situation.

Here’s the strangest thing, though: yesterday, Pepe had the TV on. It was an old Samuel L. Jackson movie with Spanish subtitles. This is not something that I would normally pay attention to. So I was sitting at a table at Pepe’s, my feet on the dirt floor, a dog laying happily off to the side, when for some reason the TV caught my eye: there was a car going off a bridge, and it was a bridge I recognized. Not only did I recognize it, it was a bridge in my hometown. Right there, exactly as I remember it. Right there, as I’ve driven on it so many times before: the Foresthill Bridge.

A few minutes later, Pepe asked the young people at the other table if they wanted to buy Kush.

I had an idea what this is, but looked it up anyway, just to be sure. It’s what you would guess, in case you don’t already know.

They said, quite admirably, “No amigo. We’re just here for tacos. Not for Kush.”

I was so proud of them! Their mothers would be so proud! I wanted to go tell them, “Good job, guys! Way not to buy drugs in Mexico!”

I didn’t do this, of course. But then I also wondered what kind of vibe I must give off, that Pepe did not say a word to me about Kush. In either of my visits. Probably a kind of motherly vibe that says, “Good job guys! Way not to buy drugs in Mexico!”

So it’s a strange, beautiful world we live in. There are tacos that surprise you with their sweet deliciousness, made by a drug selling, kind man who doesn’t believe in science, but who will float you a loan on your taco bill and just tell you to come in again. Also, you can be thousands of miles away from your home and catch a glimpse of your town on a bad, dubbed movie. So many surprises. It’s enough to make you glad for every day you get to wake up, just to see what will happen next.