Senor Enrique has an open, expressive face that is ready to smile and is curious about who you are and how it is you came to his tiny posada in Patzcuaro, Michocoan, Mexico. His rooms open up to an open air interior courtyard. A band of miniature wooden diablos play on one shelf, while lower down are books that Enrique has written. He tells us that he writes about friends and family who have long since passed. It is pizza night as well, and Enrique says that people come from as far as the state Capitol an hour away for his pizza.
We order the house special , with a cold bottle of white wine. Enrique asks the cook what kind of wine they have. The wine is refreshing after weeks of beer. Soft, sultry bossa Nova tunes swirl in the airwaves around the five tables and bar. Enrique tells us that Harper Lee has just died and that To Kill a Mockingbird is his favourite book. He explains that each week he writes something on Facebook to promote the pizza nights. This week he will write about Harper Lee.
As we talk, he in his broken English and us in our survival Spanish, Enrique decants the house Mezcal from gallon jugs into a variety of liquor bottles. It is clearly not an official product, although it is on the menu. He explains that it is made in a nearby village.
He offers us a drink in two miniature beer mugs.
It is the desert. Smooth, dry, smoky.
Enrique sits in his wheelchair and beams. He tells us that the Mezcal is his ‘novia’ .