The single best thing about traveling is finding food we can’t find at home. The worst thing is that we usually can’t bring it back with us or find it at home. Ahh, Mexico. First, we can take it home, for the most part, and second, we can find a lot of it at (believe it or not) the dollar stores and probably the Wal-Mart stores closer to the border.

Yogurt

We eat yogurt at home. There’s a good selection at your average American store, or so we thought. Much of it has corn syrup, so we avoid those brands. Little did we know.  Here in Mexico, there is an entire refrigerated row of every possible flavor of yogurt. In cups, in  drinkable cartons, for kids, for grown ups. With cereal, with straws, with fruit, with honey. Some even with balloon animals tied to them to lure in the little ones. Every single time we go to the store we bring home more yogurt. Good thing we can take them with us.

Cheese

I brought cheese with us, not expecting to find any interesting queso south of the border. After all, who’s heard of Mexican cows? The cheese is varied, so I pick up something different each time. I found one Oaxacan type that’s like string cheese. I like it. Then Manchego, which we know at home to be harder, is a favorite of the hub. Queso de Castillano I didn’t care for. It’s hard and salty, and I’m not sure what to do with it.

Pasteles

Let me preface this by saying that my husband is not one to pick up a cookie or cake just because. But we’ve been to the grocery store every day since we arrived in Rosarito, and it is he who leads us over to the pasteleria in the store. Chain grocery stores, by the way, have decent baked goods here. Not always the case at home.

The setup is different here, so I had to take a moment to observe. You get a metal tray and tongs and then collect all the items you want. Biscoches with hot pink icing, empanadas de crema, muffins with a sprinkling of chocolate chips, cookies the size of Max’s head, donas (donuts) made of dough similar to pretzel dough, topped with delectable icing. Take your loot to the woman at the counter and she’ll mark on the bag how many items at what price you have. Take home and ingest. (Do not step on scale).

We haven’t yet been to a standalone pasteleria but we plan to.

Tortillas for Breakfast?

We bought a large, piping hot pack of corn tortillas on our first day. I think for an average (read: large) Mexican family, this would have lasted one day. They’re best fresh. We’re still chewing on them. We’ve eaten them with our eggs and chorizo for breakfast each day, as well as at other meals. Flour tortillas aren’t as popular here.

Apple

I mentioned apple in another post. I have an affinity for all (real) apple flavored things, which I only find in other countries (dear brands: if you’re reading this, PLEASE bring apple-y items to the US!). We discovered apple Jell-o. Delicious topped with apple yogurt. I’m a big fan of Mexican apple sodas, like Lift.

What’s Missing

I assumed we’d find amazing fresh salsa here. Not so. They only sell really hot bottled stuff, better suited for a condiment for your meat than to go on chips. It’s curious, with so many Mexican restaurants in the US (close by) that serve it, it doesn’t appear to be a part of the food landscape in Rosarito. Maybe we just haven’t found the salseria. Hub said they probably don’t sell it because everyone makes it themselves.

Eating our way across the city has been fun, and something we’ll definitely do again!

Between my husband and I, I am known as the one who falls apart when we travel. Especially in another country. Since it’s been about 10 years since we’ve traveled much (save our wonderful Montreal trip earlier this year), I was eager to prove my ability in Mexico. Since I’m the one who speaks Spanish among us, all the more way to prove myself.

I’ve done well, actually. For the most part, I’ve communicated for the family. But I’ve discovered I suck at listening. The hub is much better at understanding Spanish (though doesn’t know well enough how to speak it) than I am, and sometimes he has to tell me what someone said, which I hate. I feel helpless when I don’t understand.

It’s just so different here. Just 30 minutes from wi-fi, sanitary regulations and traffic laws is a whole other world. Some for the better, and some for the, well, I don’t like to judge, but let’s say “less better.”

For instance. Here in Mexico, just like every single other country we’ve visited, they don’t make consumers consume high fructose corn syrup like in the US. Candy, cookies and soft drinks have sugar, like they should. Given the hub is allergic to HFCS, we were thrilled to find azucar as the ingredient, and stocked up on apple flavored soda and candy.

Speaking of apple (I swear I have a post dedicated to food planned, but here I am, talking about it here), they have great apple flavored sodas and yogurts. Mmm.

Road rules? Not so much. If you’re going slow (as I do when going down a dirt road filled with holes big enough to bury a small child in), people pass you. Stop signs are a suggestion.

At shopping centers, there are what we have dubbed “parking maestros.” Just men who guide you with their hands when you’re leaving your parking spot. Seems pointless to us but I’m sure they’ve prevented billions of accidents.

There are taco stands, coconut stands, candy stands, beer stands, any kind of stand you can imagine. And anywhere. On a country road leading nowhere. In our neighborhood. Nestled among stores selling tile and pottery. And they’re all good (back to the food again).

It’s been a lesson in differences for all of us. We’re so judgmental, coming from our safe American lives. It’s good for us to get out of our element, to learn something about how other folks live. Viva Mexico.

I’ve been taking a lot of photos, but not really paying attention to my skills (i.e. not trying to get better). I got a useful email from Samsung (though I use a Nikon D3000; I’ll take good camera advice from anyone) that I thought I’d share on how to take better beach photos:

• The bright sun reflecting off of the sand and water can fool your camera’s light metering system into thinking your subject is too bright, which will unfortunately result in an underexposed image.  In order to ensure that your photos are properly exposed when shooting at the beach, take a look at your digital camera to see if it offers a beach scene mode.
  • This specific scene mode will automatically program your digital camera to take the best photo possible in the bright and reflective environment. When set to the beach scene mode, your camera will know that it’s taking a photo in a bright environment and will properly expose the scene, or more importantly, your subject.
• It may seem a bit silly, but taking beach photos is also an opportunity to make use of your camera’s flash. While you may not think about using a flash on a bright, sunny day, it’s actually one of the easiest things you can do to help make your photos pop, especially if you’re taking photos of your children! Very sunny conditions can often cause unwanted shadows to appear on your subjects’ faces. By simply turning on and using your camera’s flash, you can make sure that shadows won’t be an issue and that you’re able capture that perfect smile for everyone to see.

What do you like to take photos of in the summer?

We’ve been to the beach with friends. We splashed and tried to catch baby crabs with squid (some of us more successful than others). We’ve watched our kids do cute dances at Balboa Park. We’ve watched Tahitian and Flamenco dancers. We’ve bonded while our kids grew up in front of us.

Friends are wonderful.

(If you’re not a friend or family you might get bored. There are about 50 photos here. But knock yourself out and watch them anyway. All the kids are damn cute).

Yesterday, he couldn’t ride his bike. In fact, he had a meltdown when Papa tried to teach him.

Today he can.

Do you remember the day you learned to ride your bike? I do. I had a Strawberry Shortcake bike, with pink banana seat and red and white streamers. I remember my dad pushing me off, me begging him not to let go and when he did, as all dads do, that feeling of freedom, knowing I was doing it all on my own.

I hope my son felt that today.

I told him he would never forget this day. We marked it with ice cream, as is necessary for any landmark moment.

It’s going by too fast…

• Went to Julian, famous for their apple pie, and didn’t eat apple pie
• Took far too many layers to wear on our very long Harbor Tour
• Spent far too much money at Old Town
• Drank a lot of wine

Then Mom stayed with Max while hub and I had a little wine country getaway in Temecula. Check out our photo tour.

I’ve got a business trip the rest of the week, and I hope to catch up on all my blogs.

So, being new to a school, and not having connected with the parents at his last school, I was leery of how I’d fit in with the parents at Max’s school. I shouldn’t have worried. These are the coolest parents I’ve ever known.

My theory is: people that want their kids to learn French are just cool.

Some are native French speakers, like my new friend, Laurence, who is from a teeny island called Reunion, off the coast of Madagascar. She brings a bit of Euro-Afri-Island breeze to any conversation. Others, like me, are Francophiles, meaning we speak French and love the culture. Others don’t even speak French, but want their kids to.

We let the kids run off steam in the park every day after school. We talk about San Diego, the school, the usual parent stuff.

I’m at ease. I’m around people who, like me and the hub, value the importance language has in our children’s lives. I’m sighing a breath of relief. I can see Max growing up with these kids (who are all really well behaved) and me getting close to the parents.

Je suis content.

He will have about 5 weeks off from July to September then 3 weeks off around Christmas.

At first I didn’t like the 3 week break. But now I think it’s great because:

• We can take vacations when everyone else is in school
• Museums and parks are less crowded
• I don’t have him sitting around watching tv for 3 solid months in the summer

So it’s an adjustment but it’s working out.

Over break we:

• Went to the San Diego Zoo (got memberships. yay!)
• Ate froyo
• Visited Legoland
• He went to Camp Cahito outdoor camp for a week
• Discovered Pinkberry. Ate more froyo
• Visited the Museum of Man
• Went to a birthday party
• Went camping
• Froyo (I have a problem)
• Made new friends and had a playdate

I don’t have many photos because my frikkin camera got stolen. But here are the ones from the zoo.

Next week I know I will miss having him around. I’m glad we got to explore our new city (and that there is still so much to see!) together.

So being the former owner of a failing Marble Slab Creamery, I didn’t expect to be impressed with frozen yogurt. In fact, I never ate the yogurt we sold. The ice cream was just so much better.

But here there’s a frozen yogurt store in every strip mall. Yogurtland is our favorite, and near Max’s school. Here’s why I love it.

You serve yourself. Not genius, but unique. You pick your flavor, fill up your cup and add a topping. The pimply teen behind the counter does no more than check the weight and ring you up. Done. You pay per ounce (and already I’m nitpicking when I have to pay $.39/oz vs $.32).

I had a Pomegranate Raspberry with blueberries on top. I’m still fantasizing about that one. I also like Plain Tart, which tastes like plain yogurt with a bit of sweet. Max likes to put gummies and jellybeans on his. A cardinal sin in my book, but what are you gonna do? He’s 5.

Now he asks, “Can we go make froyo, Mama?”

How do I say no to that?

I’d thought that maybe I was swayed by slick advertising into thinking that frozen yogurt was better for me than ice cream, but that it probably is just as bad for me. Ha ha! Here it tells me that my Raspberry Pomegranate is just 26 calories per ounce. I ate 4. So 100 calories. Not bad.

Sorry to cut this post short. I, er, need to go get some froyo. Later tater.

Arizona was more Native American culture. And fry bread. My new favorite carb. They make Navajo tacos, which are served on fry bread. Yum.

We visited the Petrified Forest National Park, which was neat. Let’s see if I can get this right. Thousands of years ago, when the trees fell, there was some sort of natural mineral (I want to say sulfur) that soaked into the fallen logs. It petrified them. Turned them to stone. Now the wood is brilliant shades of reds, oranges, browns and purples,  and litter the park.

Flagstaff was a great city. It was at a high elevation, and there was snow. It was funny, headed to California and it was getting colder. We ate amazing Thai food in what I think was their downtown tourist area. From there, we were officially off of our beloved Route 66.

As we approached Phoenix, it warmed quickly, and we saw plants. And sand. We were in the home stretch.

As we hit the California border, we had to stop for border patrol. Did I take a wrong turn? Is this Mexico?

Apparently we were so close to the border, they were still on the lookout for illegal immigrants. I warned my tanned son not to speak Spanish or he might get us in trouble. Only kidding. Sorta.

By the end of the journey I could not wait to get to my new home. And I did.

Route 66 with Mom and Max was a great adventure. A long and tiring one, but one we will all cherish, I am sure. Not many people brave the cross country journey, so we are of the few.