Recalling Santa Fe chillies experience in Mexico
When I recall my experience with the hot Mexican chillies - pepper - my body shivers and some electric bolt shoots through my bulging and generous structure.
This is on account of my encounter with the red-hot veggies more than 25 years ago.
You see, in one of my many global sojourns, sometimes in the early 90s, I found myself landing at the Alberquerque Airport, in the US State of New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment. As the name connotes, the state borders Mexico itself.
I was part of hundreds of delegates from all over the globe who descended onto that magnificent city with its romantic ‘el pueblo’ and adobe structures. We were attending one of those many international meetings, which are basically ‘stress management’ events.
No wonder we had quite a flexible programme, which included tours of bullfighting events and visits to museums and to Native American (Red Indian) territories and townships.
The highlight of the tours was - according to me - a visit to Santa Fe, the capital city, though not the largest, of New Mexico. Its full name as founded being, ‘La Villa Real de la Santa Fe de San Fansisco de Asis.’
Having been heavily fed with then American Western Cowboy films, including the likes of ‘One Silver Dollar’, ‘The Magnificent Seven’, and ‘High Noon’ with the then iconic actors like John Wayne and Yul Brynner, during my secondary and high school days, I was naturally enthralled.
It so happens that the nearby cactus dotted desert and famous Rio Grande were some of the main locations of these films.
I, therefore, wanted to relive that ‘legendary Western cowboy experience’ I had while watching those films in my younger days.
In Santa Fe, we were warmly welcomed by the city authorities and the Mayor hosted us to a sumptuous lunch in one of the large and spacious restaurants overlooking the magnificent city square.
Halfway through the luncheon, a bell was rung, and all the waiters and waitresses froze. They then serenaded us with a beautiful, exciting and romantic Mexican melody. At the end of which they resumed their serving duties, urging us to sample and taste their Mexican special dishes.
We were all thrilled. Notwithstanding my thin wallet, I parted with a $10 bill as a tip. The other delegates from the richer US, Europe and Asia shelled out a fortune.
It was at this point when I made my first major mistake of tasting those special Mexican dishes. I immediately felt like I had munched through some red hot fried peppers. Some hot flame shot through my mouth and tongue, down my throat into my intestines. I was virtually on fire.
That is when I took the silly action of guzzling down my throat some potent tequillas - a famous Mexican spirit - to douse the fires It did not work. And in my stupidity I drank more tequillas.
Outside, the sizzling Mexican heat worsened my situation. Actually the following day, back in Albuquerque, I was told by colleagues that while buying a beautiful and smart Mexican Safari suit, I had insisted, against the sober advice of the shopkeeper, to purchase an unmatching shirt and trouser attire.
And to absolve himself from any blame or potential legal complications, the shopkeeper had compelled me to sign a document stating that it was me who insisted on buying the now useless suit. I still have that note.
This episode has revisited my mind as I plan, in my retirement, to run a pub and restaurant establishment. Naturally, it will not serve those very hot Mexican chillies nor the potent Latino tequillas. But all my waiters and waitresses will come from a seasoned and reputable Bongoland choir. Any interested choir?
