I saw my first deer in the Mexican wild today.
A rather scrawny -- by Oregon standards -- doe. At first I thought it was a street dog But I was shocked to see it at all. I keep hearing that large wildlife has been slaughtered in these parts.
Apparently, no one bothered telling that to the startled deer I had in my sights yesterday afternoon. Somewhere between Puerto Vallarta and Melaque.
Not in the sight of a deer rifle, mind you. The deer was in the middle of the road in broad daylight as I closed in on it with my Escape -- Ron white style. And it just stood there. As if it had decided to model for the statue in Memorial Deer Park in a very inopportune spot.
I nearly came to a full stop while it did an impression of a restaurant guest trying to make up her mind between the hamburger and the hamburger with cheese.
And then something snapped -- perhaps, a little synapse fired off the "I want to live" trigger -- and the deer was off like the animals in the Bambi forest fire scene.
Even though I did not bag a deer with my Escape, I did bag some groceries. At Costco.
I wish I could tell you that I have completely immersed myself in Mexican village life. But the truth would come out the moment you saw me walk through the door of a Mexican Costco. I revert to northern behavior instantly.
I grab my cart and traverse every aisle. Look at almost every item. Handle lots of goods, and then have the good sense to put most of them right back.
But not everything. Today was a treasure day. Lemons, feta, and small English cucumbers for the start of a Greek salad. Ham steaks for bean soup -- and sandwiches. And cherries -- for the sheer joy of living.
I put back a lot of potential purchases. On the theory I can get almost anything that is sold at Costco at my local grocery. But never cherries.
If you have read this blog during the summer months, you know how much I like fresh cherries. You also could predict that two pounds of the cherries would not make it to Melaque. And you would have been correct.
I know all the warnings about washing fruit before eating it. For exactly the same reasons, people up north should wash their fruity purchases. But some temptations trump hygiene. And cherries top the list. The other four pounds will be gone by Wednesday, I suspect.
For today, I am glad I passed on the venison. Being a fruitarian for part of this week will suit me just fine.
After all, I do have the ham.