It felt like an eternity had passed on the McAllen-Hidalgo-Reynosa International Bridge before we even reached the Texas-Mexico border-checkpoint. Cars were bumper-to-bumper, vying to get access before sunset. The wait was excruciating. I was eight-years-old and stuck in a small car with my older cousin Victoria and her cousin Matt. Mom was trying to distract us with promises of the famous Mexican Coke from Los Tres Hermanos, but all I wanted to do was turn the car around, back to McAllen, so I could watch Pokémon.
After hours of searching, we approached a desolate and dilapidated building. With no visible markings or signs to indicate its existence you could have easily missed it. The only way we knew about the location of Los Tres Hermanos restaurant was by word-of-mouth, a secret shared between locals.
However, the exterior gave no clues to the interior; inside Los Tres Hermanos was a five star restaurant, with silk tablecloths and fancy candles. The restaurant was packed, but magically a table was already set for my family. Mustachioed waiters in black vests and white button down shirts asked for our order like the penguins in the Mary Poppins movie.
“Quequierestomar?” He asked all in one breath as if there were no spaces for pauses in this language. Victoria and I just looked at each other, then back at our waiter.
Luckily our parents ordered for us. “Coke.” A universal word no doubt known on Pluto.
In less than a second the waiter returned with a glass bottle of Mexican Coke the size of my face for Victoria, Matt and me. We couldn’t believe our eyes. One bottle contained the same amount of sugar I would consume on Halloween night. Five Mexican Cokes later, Victoria, Matt and I were in a sugar rush so wild we convinced ourselves we should reenact the Pokémon theme song for fun.
With our five empty bottles of Coke in front of us, we each grabbed a utensil and proceeded to bang on the bottles in the key of annoying sounds. We each sang our lungs out, trying to prove who knew the complete lyrics of the Pokémon theme song.
“I want to be the very best…that no one ever was…” I began and soon we hit the chorus, “Pokémon, gotta catch them all, its you and me I know it’s my destiny!”
As we sang our voices reached the ears of every guest present. We were on the third refrain when my mother tugged my sleeve and said, “Sophie, you guys are REALLY loud.” My cousin and I stopped our performance and found the whole restaurant had gone quiet. Though the restaurant was silent, the patrons looked on in encouraging smiles in appreciation for our efforts. A waiter watching us from the bar picked up an empty coke bottle and tapped it with a spoon and smiled as if in agreement. Even though everyone was silent, I felt as if he and the whole restaurant were giving us a standing ovation.
Music needs no translation. Though Pokémon may not have been on the radar of our waiters and the other guests, they understood the need for music and revelry. In fact it’s not uncommon to walk into a Mexican restaurant and hear the sounds of a mariachi band serenading the guests with folk songs. I’ve even heard that in some Mexican restaurants patrons entertain other patrons through songs or limericks. Since that entertaining evening in Mexico, I’ve had time to reflect on that waiter’s smile and I’ve come to the conclusion that singing is considered an art in Mexico. From backyard cookouts to fancy restaurants, live, unrehearsed musical entertainment is an invaluable currency. Don’t be surprised when you visit a Mexican restaurant if they ask you to sing for your supper.
Of course at eight I had no idea how influential a Japanese TV-show like Pokémon would be. It wasn’t long before I was watching Sailor Moon and listening to Japanese Pop music like a regular otaku, nerd. One night, I was watching a Japanese anime, cartoon, and the main character was hosting a business meeting at a karaoke bar. These old and graying businessmen in designer suits were discussing matters of international trade as they sang—off key—popular Japanese music. That night I was reminded of my performance at Los Tres Hermanos. Though the food and customs of Japan and Mexico are vastly different, I realized that they shared one thing in common, a love of music. Here I was this Hispanic kid who was a third-generation American, singing the theme song to a show originally made in Japan in a Mexican restaurant. Here I am now, a Hispanic student in an American college, studying Japanese. When I ever I think about that waiter’s smile I don’t worry, I know it’s my destiny.
Simply beautiful! Hope you write a book one day of all your experiences!
This is especially true in a rainy year, or a year with a cooler spring. It is knowing this allows a farmer to possibly tackle a weed before it takes over a field when a desirable cool season crop could be growing slowly or possibly dormant.
In the United States of America, Mexican Coca-Cola, Mexican Coke or, informally, “Mexi-Coke”, refers to Coca-Cola produced in and imported from Mexico.On the surface, there is really only one major difference between Mexican Coke and Coke made in the United States. Mexican Coke is made with cane sugar while American Coke is made with high fructose corn syrup. Some people believe that cane sugar tastes more real and less like chemicals.
Este año visite Zaragoza una de las ciudades mas bonitas de España. Os recomiendo que la visiteis y paseis por la ribera de su rio Ebro
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