Sometimes it pays to be adventurous

I was on my way home. Home, in this instance, being the Holiday Inn Express, Rosemead, when I asked my helpful and practical navigation device to help me find something for dinner. Since the Holiday Inn Express, Rosemead, has no fitness center, I figured I might as well eat dinner before I got home.

You handful of consistent visitors to my blog know that my preference for dinner is a dive taco shop. So when I saw the San Isidro Mexican Restaurant pop up, I knew where I was headed for dinner.

As it turned out, San Isidro (which, by the way, is spelled differently than the city of San Ysidro, south of San Diego, hard on the border of Baja California), was not a dive taco shop, but an honest to goodness sit down Mexican restaurant. All that it needed to lure me inside, was the neon beer sign glowing within its windows.

I had to make a bunch of phone calls before I went in, confirming all of my training sessions for next week. That being done, I prepared myself mentally for a leisurely dinner.

As I walked in, there was a Mariachi group preparing itself for entry into San Isidro.

I was greeted by no one when I walked in. So I looked around a little. I saw someone wiping a table clean, but no other wait staff, or a hostess, so I wandered back over near the door and just waited, taking in the Mexican-style wicker and leather furniture common to places like this. The young woman who had been clearing the table approached and started speaking rapid-fire Spanish to me. I was not thinking quickly enough to reply "No entiendo Espanol" and blurted out something like, "Sorry, I don't speak Spanish". She said "For here, or to go". And when I replied "Here", she said "Anywhere". So I found a table, and as she politely asked if I'd like something to drink, I ordered a Negra Modelo, as they didn't have Dos Equis Amber, my beer of choice, but especially so in this environment.

A small amount of time passed, then the ever-present chips and salsa arrived - a wonderful accompaniment to my beverage. Browsing the menu, it soon became evident that San Isidro specialized in Pescado - Fish. So I decided on a bowl of shrimp soup with vegetables, and awaited the return of my green-bloused server. (The other waitress had a white blouse on). As I waited, the table in the other end of the "L", in the "L" shaped dining room, requested musical accompaniment from the mariachis, which band consisted of a couple of guitarists and a large acoustic bass. The band played several tunes and got me in the mood for a festive evening of music and food, but then left as no one else (myself included) was willing to fund them further.

Green blouse girl came back and asked for my order. I ordered the shrimp soup, and pointed to it on the menu, to be sure that she understood. She nodded, wrote it down and was off to place the order. As my first beer had already been consumed, she kindly brought me another.

While I was waiting for my meal, another mariachi band replaced the first. I couldn't help but think of the animated short about street musicians in one of Mattea's DVD's when I saw them. The band consisted of a bass drum, a snare drum and a tuba. I literally laughed out loud when I saw them. By this time, the table in the corner had been vacated, but the family that had been there was replaced by three young men with closely cropped hair - not the type of audience one would typically associate with a mariachi band. But they ordered up a round of music as well. So the tuba player rushed back toward the door, motioning to someone. It turned out that there were two trumpeters and two saxaphone players still warming up outside!

Let's just say that they were enthusiastic. Each, I believe, tried to play louder than his mate, in a room that was no bigger than a typical downstairs level in a two-level home. What made it particularly interesting was that each one of them seemed to have his favorite key, regardless of what anyone else was playing. They all seemed to be playing the same tune, but nevertheless, it came out as a cacophony of amazingly bad sounding noises. And then they continued for three more of the same. As they played, all I could do was laugh, and look at the faces of the other patrons in the restaurant, who, it seemed, had come to the same conclusion I had.

I took the opportunity to better take in my surroundings, as observation is a weak point of mine. The obligatory neon beer signs were everywhere - Tecate, Sol Cerveza, Negra Medelo, with the occasional Bud Light thrown in for good measure. But mixed in amongst the glowing artwork, were art prints to savor as well. The two faces, facing each other, that when looked at more closely, form a chalice or vase in between. The head of the old woman, who upon closer inspection, was not an old woman at all, but a naked young woman, posed near a waterfall. This was getting better all the time! Then my dinner arrived.

My shrimp soup had large chunks of halibut floating in it. Not what I had in mind at all. Right next to the shrimp soup on the menu, had been a mixed seafood/fish soup, which is what my waitress apparently thought that I had pointed to. When I tried to explain that I wanted shrimp soup, my waitress started speaking Spanish to me again, even though she knew that I did not understand her. I waited until she was done, and then told her that I wanted "Camaron". Shrimp. She told me that it would take 15 minutes, so I ordered another beer, my second seeming to have gone down as quickly as the first.

No sooner had the second mariachi band finished, than a third came in to San Isidro! And again, the three young men at the other end of the "L" ordered up! This third band though was a guitar, acoustic bass and accordian, and they actually played quite a lovely set, with wonderful vocals accompanying their instruments. I must admit that I find mariachi music, when properly presented, to be lively, fun, and very entertaining. This third group was exactly that. (And,no, the beer had not started to impact my appreciation).

My shrimp soup arrived, heavy on the broth, light on the vegetables, but adequately laden in large shrimp, so I enjoyed the rest of my meal thinking back to the three totally distinct musical performances just presented, and relishing the opportunity to have been a participant, rather than eating at some fast food restaurant that would be as cookie-cutter as any in America.

Sometimes it pays to be adventurous.