I'll smile when someone in Charlottesville makes a decent taco

Why the fucking hell can't anyone in this town make a good taco? I'm serious. My psychological wellbeing depends on me eating mexican food and it really fucks me when I can only eat burritos. I have nothing against atomic burrito. Though I've had better, it sure as hell wasn't in this state or even on this side of the Missi'p (Don't you even fucking MENTION chipotle or Qdoba or any of those other shit-slinging chain horse-shitteries. Guadalajara, Amigo's, and all those other "hot plate" Mexican joints are not good and don't even count. That shit is not even what I’m talking about. And the biggest offender of all, Baja Bean with the photos of Mexico on the wall to prove that the owner went there and did research to figure out how to make Baja-style food, makes me sick, not only in product, but in principle. Maybe you went to Baja but going to Baja did not put a stop to your ineptitude) (YES you may have seen me eat in one of more of these establishments. YES I eat at them all at one time or another. You must understand how badly I NEED Mexican food. To me these shitty places are like drinking water from a rusty canteen- it tastes like hell but when you've been crawling thirsty through the desert you don't complain about the aftertaste). The problem is that between the burritos I eat at atomic and the burritos I eat in my home, I end up eating burritos about 1.5 meals a day (on average). I NEED A FUCKING TACO. I heard good things about this place called Aqui es Mexico down by the C'ville Market. I went there the other day and despite the name which, if my Spanish serves me translates to "here is Mexico" or suchlike, the place is run by a bunch of Salvadorans. Now, I have nothing against Salvadorans or their fine cuisine. Papusas and yucca are all fine with me. The only problem is that, as I believe I mentioned earlier, I NEED A FUCKING TACO. To my relief, they did have plenty of Mexican stuff on the menu, including tacos. I was also relieved to see that they served tacos con lingua-beef tongue tacos (if even one of you fluent-in-Spanish sons-of-a-bitches tells me I spelled this shit wrong I will curse. I know French was a poor choice of languages. crucify me.). Now, I’m pretty disinterested in eating tongue tacos in general, but tongue tacos are a good sign. They indicate that the restaurant has a predominantly Mexican clientele, which means that there are a few things you will NOT have to put up with. The first of these is the ubiquitous crunchy taco shell. I don't know where they got the idea for this but the idea sucks. Tacos come on two soft corn tortillas. Not crunchy and not those white flour things. They should be small. Like 5 inches in diameter. Second, They should have three ingredients: some kind of meat, cilantro and onion. There should be lime on the side. There should not be lettuce. There should not be tomato. There sure as hell should not be cheese. The existence of the tongue taco is a signifier that the establishment understands these things. I'm not sure anyone really orders these tongue tacos at all (I'm lying. They do.). I think it's just easier than putting a sign on the table that says "hey Mexican people! Fear not! This isn't one of those goddamned fake Mexican places that gringos seem to adore. We understand that tacos don’t crunch." Anyway, I ordered up a couple carnitas tacos. Though the presentation was spot on, the tacos were not as good as they could have been. I mean they were the best I’ve had in Charlottesville by a long shot but if I had been given these tacos in Santa Cruz I would have thrown them away (I’m obviously lying. I have never thrown away a taco). The Salvadoran fare was pretty good though.
Hey all you Charlottesville entrepreneurs! somebody buy a damned roach coach and park that shit on the downtown mall so I can get good tacos on my way home from work! I mean there's one on every block in fucking California; you'd think a metropolitan center like Charlottesville could get one! I mean we have a crepe store AND a fondue store for Jesus' sake! These things are what's wrong with Charlottesville. Tacos have the potential to be what's right.

where is this all going?

At a certain point birthdays stop being fun. At a certain point they are the sort of thing you run away from. For this one i ran to Morocco. The truth of the matter is that it pretty much worked. As it turns out, if you confuse yourself sufficiently, you don't have time for self pity. I was sitting at a cafe in this gorge so deep that one could just see a slice of sky through the overhanging rocks. The sky was filled with way more stars than i've ever seen. We had driven through some crazy winding mountain roads into the desert where camels were wandering in the street and i was tired. Driving in Morocco is trying. Our new friend Idriss had been blasting the same tape in Arabic all day at maximum volume. He was in the act of drinking up all the beer we had paid higher than US prices for. The Koran was locked safely in the glovebox. I think it was Mike who mentioned that it was my birthday. So it was. I opened a beer and drank some tea. It was quiet and still.

The next day we drove to the real Sahara. The Sahara with dunes. We spent the night around a fire with our camels regurgitating near by. Idriss and Rick whipped up a camel tagine which was good, if heavy on the olive oil. I went with a Touareg named Said to gather firewood. riding the camel through the dark desert with bare feet was calming. The desert was so calm and quiet. You could see the galaxy overhead. I talked quietly with Said in french about how nice things were. I was surprised that i was able to convey how i felt to him. It was a pretty simple feeling i guess. Later we ran to the top of some dunes and collapsed, exhausted on their peak. We could see towns in Algeria from where we were sitting. I fell asleep with the stars revolving around my head. In the morning I climbed the tallest dune around which was as high as a lot of mountains. It felt good.

I had to drive all day back to Marrakech which was tiring. I hadn't known from the onset that i was the only one who could drive the car so it was a little annoying but driving in Morocco is pretty rewarding. I'm sure our Fiat Pallio had never had it's tiny engine run so hard before. I would love to have listened to it sing but, alas, more shitty Arabic pop on repeat, maximum volume. When we got back to Marrakech i got sick. After two days i was pretty dehydrated and was starting to worry about my well-being. i wasnt drinking water and i wasn't eating food. In the midst of all this, however, Mike and Rick took me to the most incredible restaurant ever. It was in a 15th century palace, the floors covered in rose petals, walls covered in beautiful mosaic. We were dressed like vagrants. The food was amazing and though the bill came to about fifty dollars each, it was worth it. It would have been three times as much in the US. Unfortunately my stomach hurt a lot and i was torn between the feeling of absolute decadence and the feeling that i might die if i didnt hold onto some food or water soon. The next morning Rick got me some Antibiotics. Things got better after that. The feeling that my body was betraying me was bothersome. I've always been tolerant of dangerous food. Though i was still having a wonderful time, a shadow was cast.

After a couple days of tying up loose ends in Marrakech and buying things in the markets, we went to London. At a bar that night this girl, who may have been young enough not to have moved out of her parents house, approached me and after inquiring about a cigarette, asked if i was american. i told her i was and she followed with "I hate Americans." i said something along the lines of "well that's unfortunate." To which she responded "kiss me." she didn't wait for a response and went for it. I stopped her with the only thing i could think of which was "You don't want to make out with me! You don't know me! You don't know where i've been! I've been in the DESERT!" Rick seemed to think this was just about the funniest thing i could have said under the circumstances. Though i was mostly disinterested in making out with this girl of dubious vintage (despite mike burlin's encouragement) in a place that was pretty foreign to me (probably more foreign than Marrakech in ways)( I mean christ, i ordered a jack on the rocks (they didn't have any bourbon) and the bartender loooked at me like i was crazy. i eventually had to tell him how to make it and he still managed to fuck it up. I was like "it's not hard. you put ice in the glass then you pour in the whiskey! he filled the glass with ice and poured a shot over it. i guess this is what i get for going to these sort of strange countries.), it was flattering to me that a girl would pick me out of this crowded bar to come hit on. it really sort of lifted my spirits. this lasted until roughly the time she tried to give me her email address and number but was too drunk to write them legibly even after three tries and 15 minutes. i'm getting better at laughing at myself. i was already pretty good at laughing at others.

Speaking of which, if you ever want to laugh, go on a long plane ride with rick easton. watch as the tobacco withdrawal and hatred of flying turn him into a bomb with a short fuse. After the flight, watch as he meets the one thing between him and a cigarette- Customs. watch as he patiently explains why his bag is filled with half a dozen keys of "herbs" he uses for "cooking" swimming an a soup of preserved lemons, olive oil and broken glass. he really did pull it together surprisingly well.

on coming back home i have had some trouble adjusting. things just seem too slow. i had trouble getting back into school and was hit with the end of what has been a disappointing and difficult semester. i'd like to think the next one will be better. i have no reason to believe this.
i'm really happy about christmas. i'm not usually into it but this year i really look forward to seeing my parents and sister. it will be nice to be around people who don't expect anything from me and for whom i don't feel like i need to be impressive.dont get me wrong, i like all my friends, i just feel like i spend too much time trying. it will be nice to wake up and be able to do anything i want. it will be nice to sleep. i need some sleep.