Way back in summertime, around the same time as the Indonesian and Sri Lankan festivals, there was another festival that I felt, come rain or sleet or snow or long rides on expensive trains, I must attend: the Mexican festival.
I grew up in the American southwest, and Mexican food is near and dear to my heart. Though my childhood cheese quesadillas are a thing of the past, for me, you can’t really go wrong with beans, greens, and a tortilla. That was all I wanted from this festival… and meh, what I got was close enough.
After the long trek out to Odaiba, an area on the Tokyo waterfront and chronically expensive to get to because of the limited and pricey train lines, I arrived to find the patio area decked out with a performance space, some vendors, and some more vendors. Dancers were performing when I arrived, and kids were having a very spirited go at a pinata when I left, but other than eating and drinking and hoping something good would come on stage next, there wasn’t much to do. The whole atmosphere was more reminiscent of a spring break resort town, only the college kids failed to show (even for the Drug-on Tacos).
My veggie taco and drink combo was satisfactory, but not sufficient to fulfill my nostalgia. I would’ve needed beans, or a lot more avocado for that. The “mango juice” I ordered definitely had some Bacardi in it, but not enough that I did a spit take. And if there’s so little alcohol that I can handle it, anyone else might as well be drinking water. But it was more fun than I thought, watching a bunch of kids go to town on a pinata, bringing up fuzzy childhood memories of birthday parties or school events where we did the same.
Next time I live in a place with enough space, I am totally going to spring for a birthday pinata.
And a cactus. Definitely a cactus.