I call it My Loop Trip

As some of you may know I have family roots in the state of Chihuahua, both my parents and both my grandparents (on both sides of the family) were all born there, I am the first generation born in Canada. My mother's whole family moved to Canada when she was a young girl, so she does not have too many memories of Mexico but my father didn't come to Canada until he was a young man, and he came alone. To this day I still have aunts, uncles and many many cousins still living in the state of Chihuahua, scattered from Cuauhtemoc to Saladas.
This was my 4th visit, once as a child with my parents when I was 8, once with my daughter when she was 11, and once with my daughter and my mother, and now alone.

My loop trip

I have done it a few different ways, I've flown there from Canada and then taken the train from Chihuahua through the Copper Canyons to Los Mochis and then a bus to Mazatlan, or I have flown to Mazatlan and taken a bus to Los mochis and then the train through the canyons to Cuauhtemoc. This trip was always combined with a trip to Mazatlan. This time I took a bus from Mazatlan to Cuauhtemoc and then took the train to Los Mochis and then a bus back to Mazatlan. That has put me on planes, trains, buses, boats and cars this winter.....sounds like a movie.

The bus from Mazatlan to Cuauhtemoc is a 17 hour ride, In Chihuahua city you do a bus switch, this is where I was a dumb ass and missed my bus. Let me splain the bus system to you. When you buy your ticket there is a bus number on the ticket, then you go outside where many many bus lines pull up to drop off people and reload and hit the road (quickly), so you find your bus that has a number that matches your ticket, if your bus is not there yet you ask one of the "bus directors" that are standing around and being ever so helpful. Here is the problem with "ever so helpful". Mexican men take the whole "macho" thing to a whole new level than American men. If you ask them something that they do not know the answer to they will still give you an answer, they will make stuff up, not because they are deceitful or mean or because they get kicks out of sending you on a wild goose chase, they just want to help, seriously....it's really very sweet, they want to help you so bad that they make stuff up, they can't just say "I don't know", this is not a personnel thing it is a cultural thing. For the most part you can get around this by learning how to ask things (different story). So, I let my guard down (14 hours on a bus can do that to you) and messed up. Was told to wait "here" for my bus, when in fact my bus had already left, but I wasn't alone. Another Mexican couple asked the same guy (I overheard this) and they were told to wait "here" as well....see, not personal and confirmation that it wasn't my Spanish that had failed here......that is always a huge probability too.

So what now? Wait 3 hours for the next bus? Not in Mexico, once it was determined that we had been given false information......yes we both tattled on the guy, another bus was pulled out of the parking lot and we got a private bus trip to Cuauhtemoc. Seriously. Not sure if this would have happened if the Mexican couple had not been there as well, but I do know this would never have happened in Canada regardless of why you missed the bus.

The reason for taking the bus up was to see the new road to Durango and the world's highest suspension bridge but as it turned out we passed through in the dark, which I knew, but passing during the day met arriving too early in the morning (or too late at night) for my family to pick me up at the other end. My destination is not Cuauhtemoc but a small town called Rubio. However I did see the bridge because it is lit up nicely, I just didn't get pictures so I stole these off the internet. It is beautiful at night too, well worth the trip. It's like seeing the Eiffel tower at night, it's beautiful during the day but almost magical at night, as is this bridge. Had this been a sightseeing trip I would have made  the trip in 2 or 3 days but it wasn't, I was in a hurry to get there. I had left this trip to the very end of my stay in Mexico and was in a hurry to get back to the Island to spend my last days there. This happens to me very year, once I get settled on the Island I don't want to leave, I want to travel around and see things but I just can't leave. I've stayed too long, become too attached (different story).

The world's highest suspension bridge, It is in the Guinness Book of records

She's a beauty

My cousin picked me up at the bus station in Cuauhtemoc and drove me to Rubio giving us time to catch  up. Oh, the weather.....ugh! Cold, windy, dry dry air.....shockingly dry for me coming from a high humidity area, so dry it burns the nose, makes your skin crinkle and itch and ages you as soon as you cross the Sinaloa-Chihuahua border, your insides dry up too. If feels like everything in your intestines shrivels up and sticks to the sides and won't come out.....you get the picture. Reminded me of Philips Seymour Hoffman's line in Cold Mountain "if they open my gut up right now they would find turds stacked up like little black twigs". ... yeah, enough about that, It's dry. The wind howls and blows, luckily they all built their houses like the smart little pig....of bricks, houses made of sticks would have blown away. I think there are only two crooked tress in Chihuahua that are taller than me (but not wider) this is because the German people have a tendency to clear all the land without leaving a single tree, they work up the land right up to the back of the house, up to the side of the shops, garages, and barns, never leaving even a single row of trees. Unlike in Sinaloa, in Chihuahua they can only have one crop a year because of cold winters, during the winter months the land is worked up, all you can see for miles and miles is black dirt......and then the wind comes. I used to think it was dirty and dusty on Stone Island......not, I will never complain of dust on the Island again.

Now, Imagine a wind blowing through here.....close your eyes

Nothing to stop the wind

Apple orchids 

Land is worked up right to the house, see the mountains in the background, you can't get away from them

How lonely, how cold, how brown.......the mountains are beautiful though, never

It was so cold I wore all my clothes I had brought with me at once, a pair of fleece lined leggings saved my life, and I went out and bought some socks, I came without socks, what was I thinking? My past visits had never been in the winter. When I tell you what the temperature was my Canadian friends will snort and laugh,  but remember no heat in the homes, or in stores or in the restaurants except for little electric or propane powered portable heaters that they are all too cheap for to crank on high, there is just enough heat to keep you alive. The temperature went from a -3C overnight to 16C (that was the high) during the day and a 150mph wind (that's a "feels like" guess).....don't forget, stick dry air, and remember where I had come from, 33C with 90% humidly. You get the idea....carrying on now.

The mountains of Chihuahua have a way of romancing me, they court my heart, they make me feel like I am the star in a movie, and old old movie, it's old, but right away I know I have seen it before, I don't think it's a good movie, I think it's a sad movie, I don't think I would like to watch it never mind be in it, but for some reason I know my lines well making me feel like I am meant to be in it, I fit, I remember it like it like it was filmed yesterday........but I can just feel it, I get drawn in. I know it's not my story but it rouses me when I see the mountains. The story that belongs to my father, most of which he took with him when he passed away, but the mountains stayed behind and since they don't talk I can only wonder what the rest of the story is. ......and I ask my aunts and uncles to tell me stories of how they survived this desert like land and squeezed a decent living out of the dry rocky countryside with their hands. I dig through their old pictures and try to imagine what if.....what if I hadn't been born in Canada, what if I had been born here, am I privileged for having grown up in Canada or did I miss out on something. I feel I missed out. Those mountains always bring these questions.

They pull at me, every time I look up, there they are, pleading with me, telling me I belong here, my roots are here, part of me says I should be here, then I quickly look away, shiver from the wind, squint my eyes to keep the dust out. Never. 

Then later I forget and I am awed once again by the mountains and I imagine myself with a little square plot of land, a little brick house, a little chicken coop and some sheep or goats in a white fence, a little apple orchid, making a living selling eggs, butter, apples, apple pie and knitted mittens, scarves and wool socks, speaking German/Spanish, braiding my hair (that would become dreadlocks), snorting Vaseline up my nose, I can almost see it when I am focused on the those mountains....... thank goodness when I look away I remember it's not my story or my movie.

I cruise around in my aunts car and visit cousins after cousins, I pet calves, cows, little wee kittens, I go from fabric store to fabric store (didn't even buy any), I attend a Spanish/German church, I eat progies & sausage, noodle soup, tacos and beans, pie, and good old fashion German Hones broden. I see cowboys, little boys in overalls, cowboy boots and belt buckles of all sizes and kinds. Lots of the cowboys here wear the cowboy gear, whereas in Sinaloa the cowboys are barefoot or in flip flops (unless they are going dancing) It's more of a "wild west" like look here, the rough terrain and the dress, the vehicles, there seems to be more "attitude" as opposed to the relaxed "ahhh manana, manana" ways of Sinaloa, these people are more driven by making money, no laying in hammocks at 4:00 pm here, not sure I even saw hammocks.

 The farmers are indeed big farmers, not content to just harvest enough to feed themselves, they are after big crops, filling semi trucks after semi trucks of corn. All you see is corn, unlike Sinaloa where we have a variety of crops, everything from tomatoes, chilis, onions, lemons, mangos, papaya, etc, colorful crops. Along with the big farms here you see big farm equipment, nice shiny green farm equipment, and a John Deere dealership on every corner (across from the fabric store) unlike Sinaloa where we see tractors that are held together by twine, string, tape and Gods grace, tractors that were bought from Tio Jose's nephew carlos's wife's brother Rigo.....not from a shiny John Deere dealership. I've never even seen a new farm equipment dealership in Sinaloa. Chihuahua is real farm country,  I even saw hay bales, I have never seen hay bales in Sinaloa.

My mother's family came from Rubio  (right here) which is very very much farm country, and very straight and staunch German, my father's family came from Pedroneles, more ranch like and more Mexican, although they were German, it seemed my grandfather didn't like to go with the flow, he liked things a bit more messier than the straight, manicured, orderly German farm thus not ever really fitting in with his German neighbors so they opted to live in a more Mexican populated area, more ranch like, less orderly, where the chickens aren't penned and the goats run wild, the clothes line hangs low with the sheets brushing against the chicken poop on the ground, the cowboy rides his horse to the front door and walks into the house with his shitty boots. The ranch cowboy drinks beer on Friday night, howls at the moon and dances around a fire, his gun is a show piece, and his shirts have colorful flowers embroidered on the shoulder pieces, and his cowboy boots are pointed. He lives high on the hog when he has money  and lowly when he doesn't.

The farm cowboy has a nice little chicken coop, all animals are fenced in with nice red barns, the clothes line flies high, there is a walk way leading to the house and a porch where you leave your square toed cowboy boots, he has no time for dancing and howling at the moon is just for fools and coyotes, he hides his gun until it is time to slaughter a pig, his plain shirts are freshly ironed under his overhauls. He manages his money so he can live simply all the time. He hides his beer and drinks in secret.(haha, I made that up....maybe)

These two places exist here not far from each other but ever so different, my father came from one and my mother from the other, same...only different. Me....I'm a mix, sometimes I am tore between the 2 worlds. Sometimes I like things orderly and straight and sometimes I like them more mixed up, but, I always howl at the moon (when I'm alone), and I am not hiding a gun or beer, but I would love embroidered flowers on my shirts and I prefer flip flops over cowboys boots.....guess I am not a cowboy at all. Just don't look at the mountains of Chihuahua, turn the other way, south to Sinaloa.

My great grandmothers house, as it stands today, empty, abandoned. A new roof and one could move in. Never

Ready to seed, waiting for spring

2 different worlds can sometimes only be 1 hr and 45 minutes apart

From Cuauhtemoc  I take the train to Los Mochis, I am tired from laying in my bed shivering at nights and am still carrying my little black sticks with me, all in all not feeling overly great, I am thinking I will sleep the whole way, I have taken this same train through the same Copper Canyons 2 times before, I have seen it all, (so I think) I will sleep and when I get to Mochis I will jump on a night bus and head home. Not. Did not sleep a wink, the view from the big windows is amazing all the way. It was very noticeable when we crossed the border to Sinaloa, almost immediately it got greener and more colorful, more tropical, lush and full. Since I didn't sleep I decided against getting on a night bus and got a room in Mochis and had a good warm night's sleep and a relaxing morning with coffee and sunshine and Chilaquiles with beans for breakfast. Oh it was so warm. I never realized how much I love Sinaloa (now that the Chihuahua mountains are out of sight and can't woo me).

Copper Canyons

Canyons

starting to get greener and more trees

but yet still a little too brown for me

 I left my little black sticks behind and got on a bus to go home to Mazatlan. On the 6 hour bus ride through Sinaloa I fell in love over and over and over again. I love Sinaloa. I love that the corn was standing 7 feet tall with the second crop in the next field just starting, I love the rows and rows of tomatoes plants with shiny red tomatoes, I love the chili trucks on the road, loaded to the top, I love the messy ranches, but most of all I like the trees, big bushy trees, everywhere, and the flowers and the colorful houses and the laundry hanging on the ground, the kids running around barefoot, the trees, oh the beautiful trees. Just when I thought I couldn't be more in love with sinaloa.....there it was, behind green field of tomatoes, the ocean, the ocean, the reason I don't have to snort Vaseline anymore, the reason my skin feels younger the reason for the salty taste when I lick my lips, the reason my hair goes wild and will not be tamed. 

And then BAM! Sinaloa, the corn is high

Tomatoes

See the trees in the background

See how the land is not worked up on the right

trees, and water

Soft mountains in the back, and trees

Farmland and mountain

Mountains behind farm land on one side of the road....

The ocean behind farmland on the other side of the road....the best of all worlds

We have mountains in Sinaloa too, they just look softer and aren't so demanding on you (me) as the ones in Chihuahua, they don't try to steal you away, they are what they are, they complete the landscape. They don't have to romance me, I'm already in love with them. Sinaloa be still my heart.

Home.....where the horse run wild. Stone Island

Just to clarify, my mother's family packed up and moved to Canada when she was 8 so she didn;t really grow up in Rubio but she did grow up in a German farm community in Northern Alberta, where the wash line flies high, where there is a walk way leading to the house, a porch where you take your boots............

Shrimp... According To Bubba Gump

There is something so romantic about a shrimp boat. Maybe it's the Forest Gump movie, maybe it's because my idea of romance isn't very conventional, maybe it's the unknown that makes it romantic. Whatever it is, I have always wanted to get on board a shrimper. Shrimp season has just ended and there are about 100 shrimp boats docked/parked at the port. Since I have friends in high places I met up with them and we wandered around the port, and wandered, looking, looking, and peering into windows, wandered, pretending to be some kind of gringo boat inspectors, until we came across a gentleman that looked friendly (not that they didn't all look friendly) and we were invited on board. 
Although they all look like great big barrels of rust and are covered in pelican poop, the tour did not disappoint, they are beautiful mystic boats, and oh the stories they could tell I am sure could entertain us for a long time. Remember we are seeing these ships at their worst, they have just come in from being at sea for 6 months and from now until September they will get a servicing, a cleaning, and any repairs that are needed. There was plenty of action on the port, mechanics, welders, and other men that looked like they were doing important things. There is a whole world on this street, shops, stores, lame dogs, cats keeping the place rat free, kids running around, women carrying pots of food and wearing aprons, little restaurants, men laying in hammocks, men working, men sitting under a tree telling romantic shrimp stories I am sure. 
Shrimp boats are all parked in very snug, you can't tell where one ends and another begins, clearly the first one in is the last one out. As far as you can see....a mass of boats, each one with their own story. A story I would love to write, if I knew it. Which makes it so romantic to me. 

 Now I understand that they do not allow women on board, which is very evident, but I couldn't help but imagine how just a little help from a women with a sewing machine could spiff these rigs up a bit, imagine a few yards of red and white gingham fabric and some patterned wall paper, some red and  white stripped upholstery, not to mention a good scrubbing...which I am sure they will get now that they are parked. I didn't take a picture of the bathroom because I really didn't think you could all handle that, the bathroom was proof that there has never ever been a women on board. 

I love her.....I want one

This brings me to my favorite scene from forest gump

The "wind down"

My favorite time to be on the beach is sunrise, my second favorite time is Sunday just before sunset. Sunday is usually the busiest day on the beach, it is our restaurants busiest day. The taxi boats that bring most of the tourist to the beach for the day stop running at sundown, so the exodus starts shortly before sundown. The  "wind down" goes like this:
Mothers gather their kids and give them a cold garden hose bath, washing off the sea sand, and scrubbing their pop stained mouths,  some get clean dry clothes to go home in, some get pajamas, some go home snuggled in a wet towel and some in a cozy house coat.
 Coolers, plastic bags, umbrellas, soccer balls and shoes get packed up and they slowly walk up the beach towards the sun, families arm in arm, kids piggy backing, some lagging behind dragging their feet, some still bouncing full of sugar, some being carried sleeping on shoulders. Some piled onto the backs of pickup trucks and some piled into cars. 
We rush to finish clean up, we bring table cloths in, bring chairs and tables in, we don't want anything washed away at high tide. We put a last fish on the fire for us to eat, fry the last 6 shrimp, and wash the last dishes, the pail of fish guts gets buried and all the garbage gets brought to the bins. Cocoa debris gets racked up. We eat standing up leaning against the bar so we can see the sun set, it's beautiful again. 
The 7 year old gets dry clothes on and needs to go in to do her homework. I get into my hammock and the cleanup guys rakes the sand. I watch the last people slowly make their way up the beach, towards the sunset. A kid passes by kicking a soccer ball, the life guards pass by on a quad, I watch a dog tear apart a left behind bag of garbage, the life guard booth seems so tall now that the beach is empty. The waiter next door walks by bringing his empties back to the cantina, 2 dogs are following him (they always do), a young couple are standing under a palapa making out, soon they start dancing to the music from the cantina, I see my sister's daughter dancing with a friend under the boogie board palapa, the wind picks up and sends a boogie board flying down the beach, she stops dancing and chases it. I snuggle deeper into my hammock, garbage starts dancing on the beach as if it can hear the music too, it's art, a reminder of the fun that was had here today, it could make a beautiful painting,  all the Styrofoam cups of  coke that were enjoyed, the paper plates of civiche that was eaten and the straws and stray tin cans, all dancing, shining in the last of the sun.
 In the morning the wind will have left ripples in the sand, like the ribs on a chocolate soft ice cream cone. By now everything is in silhouettes, the tractor pulling the fishing boats in, the dogs looking for left over bones, the lovers sitting in the sand....the left over few, the locals, that are not in a hurry to catch a boat, the music from the cantina is lovely, a table cloth blows by, I squint to keep the sand out of my eyes, I lean out of my hammock to pet a dog, I see my neighbors going for their daily evening walk, I decide it's too windy to walk, plus I am mesmerized by the "wind down", it's beautiful.  Once it's dark and the silhouettes are gone I get out of my hammock, I gather a sack of empty tin cans (my neighbor collects them) and carry my flip flops and meander on home, as I exit the beach I hear the red caution flag crack in the wind, kind of like the flag on the 9th green outside my office does on a windy day .....I am jolted back to reality,  I'm living in daily sadness now, the countdown to go back to Canada is on, 2 more weeks. The sadness will be replaced by excitement.....once I am on the plane, until then everything I do now is "a last".
I stop at a neighbor's little store, I bought a carton of wine a few days ago and plan on having a glass tonight and in case it's not good wine I should have a 7 up on hand, and I wanted a package of Ritz crackers to go with my wine (I'm classy that way), 4 neighborhood kids are in there and they have purchased tomatoes and an onion that they were sent for and now have 7 pesos left and want to buy as much candy as they can....they are pricing out the whole store, this amuses me, I wait, they don't have Ritz crackers, I end up with a bag of cheetos to go with my wine. I wait, this is how it is here.....and I like it like that.

I have another story, about my road trip to Chihuahua, but not now......I've had 2 glasses of wine, but it involves.....a pair of fleece lines leggings, a bus, a train, a car, 2 dried up crooked trees, my great grandmothers house, snow (yes snow) waffles and pudding and beans...and more.

 By the way....I can't believe how many of you can't get over my pink dress lol. If I can figure out how to take a full length picture of myself I'll do it for you....anything to keep the ratings up...since I have been slacking off the ratings are a bit down. 

Something new, something wierd, something not blue and something yummy

So, I'm headed to the mainland, my mission today is to buy coffee (it's cheaper there) contact lens cleaner (don't have any on the Island) , get some cash (have no banks here) have lunch at the market (fish or shrimp dish for 50 pesos) , buy a red dress for a Valentine's day dance (I'm still in dance training) and make a physio therapy appointment (heard the guy was hot and single....he might go nicely with my red dress) and also wanted to stop at a friend's house (hadn't seen her yet this season)

The ferry boat was just leaving as I was approaching, the captain backed the boat up and waited for me, I thank him, I smile at everyone and greet them just in case I now made someone 3 minutes late for something. One guy has his life jacket on upside down, everyone laughs as his wife points it out to him, I don't. (I think I've done this)

AT the other end as I approach the street a taxi driver asks if I need a ride, I decline, like I always do, but then he asks "why not?" , I laugh and point at my legs, he whistles as I walk by, I wished my dancing skills were up to par....I would have done  the cha cha for him.

As I turn a corner to head towards my friends house a guy asks if I am lost, I say no but I am not sure if the street I am looking for is 2 more blocks or 3 (streets here have names not numbers) he says it's 2 blocks and walks with me, I didn't really like this but its daylight and there are many people walking and driving by so I relax. He asks where I live, I tell him the Island, he asks how long the ferry ride is (means he's never been there), after chatting briefly he takes out a little wee plastic bag with some white powder in it and asks if I want some. I put  my hand over my mouth to stifle my scream of  "ARE YOU CRAZY", I can't not scream. This has never happened to me before, I have never even seen shit like this here , never, not even marijuana. He puts it back in his pocket and continues walking beside me in silence, 1/2 a block later I realize I still have my hand over my mouth, and I haven't breathed yet. I'd make a great hostage, I'd suffocate myself. I finally take a breath and am ready to give him a piece of my mind and he turns a corner and walks away......and what do I say to him, get this, I say "thank you", And remember I do know how to tell someone off in Spanish now, and when I actually have the opportunity to do so I choke  and say "thank-you". Thank-you for what? For freaking me out? Who knows, I'm just polite that way I guess, and hilarious.

My friend and I have a great laugh at this, as I look in the mirror in her bathroom I try to see what part of me looks like I like stuffing shit up my nose, I don't see it.

Next stop, red dress, I see a shop that might work (I'm a fast shopper) , I find two dresses, one is red and one is pink, they have no dressing rooms or mirrors, a cute little girl helps me pull the red dress over my head over my clothes, I ask her how it looks, it feels tight, she gives me a very enthusiastic thumbs up, yeah yeah you're just trying to sell me a dress I think. I say it feels tight (my clothes are underneath it) she says "it would be better if you were a bit thinner", ouch! such honesty isn't really necessary I think, but this is Mexico. I try the pink one on, it seems to fit better but it's pink, I wanted a red one, she thinks it's perfect, better than the red one. I don't like the color but she seems really excited about it, I get caught up in her excitement and buy the Pepto-Bismol pink dress for 99 pesos, a dress I haven't even seen myself in, just to get the shopping part over with. Now....would I get lucky to randomly just happen to see a pair of matching pink flip flops somewhere, because I am NOT going to shoe shopping. We'll see.

Lunch time, upstairs at the market, I have breaded shrimp, it comes with rice, beans, a small salad and French fries,  and tortillas for 50 pesos. You can't beat this, and as long as the fish and shrimp are fresh it's always good, you just can't really screw up fresh fish and shrimp. I am a fisher lover, I like all fish prepared in every which way, I have never had fish I didn't like. I don't even ask what kind of fish it is anymore because it just doesn't matter, It was awesome. I try to think of life without fish and shrimp, "stop it" I tell myself it's not time for that yet. The waiter is learning English and we work on the words  "breaded" and "napkins".

I accomplish everything on my list and head home, on the boat going home I am once again relieved that I live on the Island. It always feels a wee bit cooler on the Island (by the way it is still blazin hot here), maybe it's just because you get a quick cool down on the boat ride across.
 - I do actually have a stiff neck, I'm not that desperate that I would go see a cute therapist just because  he is cute.
- When I got home I realized I could have gotten the girl to take a picture of me wearing the dress with my Iphone and then I could have seen what it looked like, I wouldn't have bought it then. I will never wear this dress......I'm an idiot.- We do have drugs here on the Island, lots of it, but it is so small that everyone knows everyone and the druggies know who  does drugs and who doesn't so you are not going to get hit up to buy some unless you give the impression that you are open to that.

How to make gorditas

Today  a friend invited me over to show me how to make gorditas. Really very simple.2 ingredients, Masca and water. Once again genius.

Mix the Masca, which is corn flour with enough water to make a soft dough. Masca doesn't get sticky like flour. Knead it softly until it is nice and soft and stays in one piece. Roll a little bit into a ball and then flatten it, making a round disc. Shape the disc into a little sombrero, lifting the edges and pulling a point up in the middle. I have seen them made without the point, but that's not important, it's cute with the point. Get the point? Haahha. Don't make them too fat or they will take forever to fry, thus soaking up a lot of grease... not that I am worrying about grease, gorditas need to be eaten with reckless abandonment.

Heat oil up in a pan, in this case it was done over a fire, and fry your little sombrero, point side up first and then flipping it over, frying until it is golden brown.

What you load onto your gordita is up to you, there is no end to what you can put on it. Carne asada, chicken, beef, beans, pork...no end to the possibilities.
We had a stir fry of onions, garlic, squash and tomatoes, topped with cheese. We had fresh basil to put on it but forgot.....just dove in  to eat it as quick as we could. 

The veggies getting sauteed 

First gordita in the pan

Making little sombreros 

Lista! Bien Provecho .....yummmy