Let's Do Lunch

I stood in the courtyard at CIEPAC taking in the fresh air as I enjoyed the sound of the songbirds while tiny circles of filtered sunlight danced at my feet. Chelsea led a small group through a series of yoga stretches to help them loosen up muscles that tightened up during the morning's class.

Jodi was saying goodbye to Miguel as the rest of the group purchased some of CIEPAC's documentaries and posters. While I desperately wanted a "Boycott Coke" poster, I was not sure that it would make it safely back to Canada in my luggage. Then again, I figured, where would I hang it? There were only two places that I thought might be appropriate -- at the coffee shop and in the clubhouse at the golf course. Since I didn't own either of these commercial locations, it seemed a little presumptuous to purchase a poster for both or either store. I enjoyed a short little daydream where I saw myself hanging a poster up in the soda isle at the grocery store and then decided against making the purchase. I'll just make up a few "killer coke" stickers instead," I thought, "I can stick them on much faster than I can hang a poster."

We headed back towards the city centre to grab some lunch. La Casa del Pan Papalotl is a well known restaurant located at 55 Real de Guadalupe near San Cristobal's downtown. It serves a buffet lunch from 2 pm to 4 pm from Mondays to Thursdays. Lunch...from 2 pm to 4 pm. Lunch. As I crossed the threshold of La Casa at just a few minutes before 3 pm, I understood that Mexico's timetable was very different from the one that I was used to.

There were two doorways toPan Papalotl. The first was the door to a small storefront that could not have been any larger than 10 x 12. It was full of fresh bread, dried fruits and nuts and packages of dried herbs. There were shelves on every wall from floor to ceiling full of baskets and jars filled with produce. The other door was a double-wide glass door that opened to a bright and spacious dining room. The plaster on the walls had, I'm sure, celebrated more birthdays than I but lent themselves to the authenticity of the restaurant. Skylights dotted the ceiling 15 to 20 feet above us and were probably the restaurant's most contemporary update. Spaces between table settings made the heavy wooden furniture less imposing and made it easier for the patrons to maneuver through the restaurant and admire the local artwork. The tables were set with light linen and colourful place settings, dressed and ready to receive us.

Past our table was a smaller room with a wait station on the left and a buffet on the right which also seemed to act as a boundary for the restaurant since, on the other side, was space that Pan Papalotl shared with the cultural center El Peuente. El Peuente, I discovered, has a gallery space, a language school and a cinema just behind the restaurant. I chose my seat and leaned my pack against the wall. I could smell old wood behind the restaurant's lunch special and it reminded of the country.

Jodi explained to us that the restaurant was well known for its vegetarian offerings and fresh, organic products. In fact, the owner has a garden where she grows many of the vegetables; the rest she buys from local growers using fair trade practices. The bread is all freshly baked sourdough bread made with organic wheat.

We lined up at the buffet, picked up our plates and chose from a dozen bowls of fresh vegetables. Mixed spring greens in a deep wooden salad bowl, fresh romaine lettuce and sourdough croutons on a ceramic platter, a clear glass bowl full of coarsely chopped tomato dressed with fresh picked herbs, sliced cucumbers tossed in a light dressing with grated carrot and fresh dill, pickled red beets, gigantic red radishes, and slices of avocado arranged neatly on a platter decorated with the zest and the wedges of lemon. There was more. There was much. Too much.

I walked gently to the table with my heaping plate of fresh organic deliciousness. I was famished -- what with it almost being suppertime -- and could hardly wait to enjoy my late, late lunch. It tasted heavenly. Four months of winter had me missing fresh vegetables. The last tomato I bought at the grocery store tasted like water and was the consistency of beach sand and I couldn't even bring myself to pay $3.99 for a cucumber. It was such a treat, I savored every bite. The waiter came around with a pitcher asking us if we would like water.

I looked at his pitcher of pink juice, smiled politely and said, "Agua, por favor."

"Si," he replied as he tipped his pitcher and emptied pink juice into my glass.

I looked around me to measure the reaction of my colleagues. Nobody seemed put off by their pink water so I ventured a taste. It was mild, vaguely sweet and, well, wet. I didn't know what it was and I didn't ask. It would serve the purpose if I needed to dislodge a piece of bread to keep from dying otherwise there was really no need for refills thank you very much.

After we finished our salad plates, the waiter came and collected our dishes before replacing them with small trays of gnocchi. (Gnocchi, I probably don't need to tell you, is not an authentic Mexican dish. It is, in fact, an Italian dumpling filled with potato.) Slices of cactus, perfect heads of broccoli and a generous helping of green beans saw to it that the gnocchi was well presented. Needless to say, it was delicious, but when the waiter came back for our dessert orders, I had no room left. We ordered one of each of the three desserts and passed them around the table. Each of us took a sampling and passed it on.

We left La Casa del Pan Papalotl with instructions to meet back at the hotel at 4 pm where we would take cabs over to the Maya Vinic headquarters. I had not phoned home to let anyone know that I had arrived safely so I was desperate to get to an Internet cafe to make some kind of a connection. Sharon and I headed down Real de Guadalupe and watched for shops that we could visit when we had more time. We turned left onto Diego Dugelay and followed it down to Francisco Leon. Sharon turned left towards the hotel and I turned right towards the Zoccola. I had seen an Internet Cafe just down from the hotel on our way back from dinner the night before. That's where I decided I needed to be.

Three minutes later, I turned into the doorway of a tiny Internet Cafe and took a moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the dark interior. There were six computers turned on and waiting for customers. One of the members of our group was at a computer just inside the doorway so I grabbed a vacant computer next to him.

"Hi Joe," I said.

"Hey," was his greeting.

After a few helpful language and computer instructions from Joe, I was logged into the system. Hmmmm. This could be tricky. I recognized the word Google, but wasn't sure about the "Buscar con Google" or the "Voy a tener suerte." That's OK, I can figure this out. I checked the clock in the bottom right hand corner of the monitor -- 3:40 pm. This would have to be record-speed.

I said:

"At this very moment I am in an Internet cafe located about 3 blocks from the hotel. It is Tuesday at about 3:45 pm and I have to be back at the hotel at 4 pm. I have tried to call home but have had no luck getting a signal which means no phone calls home over the next little while.

I will not bore you with the details about the trip here. All the connections worked out though some were tighter than others. Mexico City Airport is muya grande.We are going for a (coffee) cupping at Maya Vinic at 4 pm today.Tomorrow we go out to Puebla Community for the first of two overnight stays. The second one is Friday night when we travel to Agua Azul.

I just wanted to check in to let you know that i am here, I am safe and I am happily getting to meet the people of San Cristobal de Las Casas. I found out why the hotel is not on the web. I will take pictures because you would not believe me otherwise. As I was taking a shower this morning (waiting on the hot water) we had a small earthquake. No big deal I guess -- they happen all the time. I was kind of relieved because I thought that I was having a dizzy spell. Never thought I would say that I was happy for an earthquake.

I have not taken many pictures yet. I will take some of the countryside and the hotel and the cathedrals here. I have to take as many shots as possible with no people in them -- one of the rules. I promise to take pictures of the streets though. You absolutely would not believe these streets. They are about 25-30 feet wide. Most are one way but not all of them. People park all over the place. Thrill seekers should add driving to and in San Cristobal to their crazy thing to do list.I have to get back to the hotel so I will try to come back here later in the week (after our sleepover).Talk to you soon!Love you all!"


I added email addresses of everyone who I figured may be worrying about me and then I clicked the send button.

It was 3:50 p.m.

I scanned my inbox to see if I was missing anything urgent and then....

Returned Mail, System Administrator. Crud! I opened the email to see which email account was rejected -- my daughter. OK, I can live with that. I close the message. Then came another.

Returned Mail, System Administrator. Darn! I opened the email to see which email account was rejected this time -- my son. OK. He'll be disappointed, but I'll send it again tonight or tomorrow. Must be something hotmail-related. And then...

Returned Mail, System Administrator. Crap!

"Joe, are you having any problems sending email?"

"No," came his reply.

I read all of my rejected messages and discovered that my sister's address was a success. I sent her another quick little email:

"Im getting my email returned to John and the kids. Can you please call them ASAP AND let them know I am fine. There is no cell signal here.I{ll check in again soom. Tell them to send me an email and I{ll reply. Hopefully they will get my emails that way ....or maybe you could relay them for me.

Tahnks,love,Sis"

Yes, it did look EXACTLY like that. Bad spelling and no apostrophes. I almost killed me to send it that way.

I quickly paid the clerk for my time trying to convey my deep apologies for my poor Spanish and rushed manners using facial expressions and hand gestures. I left Joe at the computer and ran up the street towards the hotel. The entire time I was running up the street I was recalling our pre-trip documentation. "Be punctual." It was one of the rules that would help things go more smoothly as we travelled in a big group.

I burst through the hotel door at precisely 4 pm and found myself alone in the lobby. I ran up to the room and knocked on the door. Fortunately Sharon was still getting ready. Good - they didn't leave without me, I thought. I took a look in the mirror, winced at my reflection there and tried to tame my crazy curls. I grabbed my coffee samples for our cupping at Maya Vinic and headed downstairs to fill up my water bottle. By the time I returned to the lobby, the group was starting to gather.

"Hi guys," Chris said as he walked in the door.

"How did it go today, " asked Seth.

"I'll tell you later," said Chris. "We're running a little behind. We're supposed to be at Maya Vinic for a cupping but we're still going to try to meet with Julio at 7:00. I'm not sure if he's going to be able to meet with us. He's got a few meetings this afternoon but if there's time we'll get together."

I recalled another rule from our pre-trip documents. "Be flexible. Things don't always go as planned."

Chris dodged back out the doorway and began hailing cabs.

I filled my water bottle and then walked outside with Sally, Annie and Sharon. We chatted on the sidewalk as the group gathered together under the late afternoon sky. It felt early, I thought. Maybe it's because I had only just finished lunch less than one hour ago.