Sunday night, right before bed, it crossed my mind to pull out my Mission journal to see what I had done 13 years ago that day. This isn't a super rare thing for me to do, but not a super frequent thing either.
The entry for Aug 30, 1996 wasn't too interesting.
Aug 31, 1996, however, contained something very important.
Consider the entry. Look closely, can you find the important something?:
We left for the temple at 11. We ran into some Elders (Taylor y un otro, los dos fueron Americanos) with a family and an investigator (smoked, Polio, J. Witness) and traveled with them. Que lejos. The temple is in the center of everythig, the same train stop as that Guadalupe thing. I wanted to tkae more time in teh markets but no luck. Same buststop as last night, we went to the chapel and then to this one house with three kids who needed baptismal interviews. I ate like crazy there, tried to be conversational as well. There were some delicious tacos "al pastor." Their Dad (?) was totally drunk. They had ducks. Then we rode the technobus far to meet some othe rmissionaries and walked up and down hills and conducted interviews in a smelly neighborhood (but it was a nice house) Here I adequately demonstrated my Spanish inadequacy (Yo soy el mujer!) Then we wound up back at the chapel at the end of the 3 kids' baptism. An ex-Elder was there, we walked back here and went to theat Quesadilla place again. Then I recorded Charla 1 and we shared hospital stories. Oh yeah, today I got stuck in the door of the metro.
Did you see that? 13 years ago yesterday I had my very first tacos al pastor! 13 years ago yesterday I had one of the most important food experiences of my life. A defining moment in my history, the beginning of a lifelong romance.
So, with things I should have been doing instead, I made a trip to a taco truck last night and had myself a pair of anniversary tacos. Not perfect, but delicious still.
Here's to 13 more wonderful years, tacos al pastor. You are the best.