A vacation … from beer?
On Wednesday I leave for a 6-day, 5-night trip to Playa Mujeres, Mexico. There will be sun, sand and crystal blue water, and all the food and drinks I can shove down my gullet. Now that’s a vacation!
The resort offers an array of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, from freshly made juices to smoothies, sodas, wines, spirits (including Cuban rum and a plethora of premium tequilas), and of course, your usual assortment of international industrially brewed beers, all included in the price of the room. One thing I don’t think they have is a wide selection (translation: any) of craft beers to choose from. Yeah, yeah … I know you’re really feeling sorry for me now.
But what’s a Zyme Lord to do in the court of King Corona? Where cerveza means something light and fizzy served in a clear bottle with a crusty lime wedge stuffed into it?
It’s not that I’m a beer snob; I just don’t like most Mexican beers, certainly not when there are other (cost-equal) options. I enjoy most spirits. Tequila actually has been my “go-to” spirit for a few months now. I’ve had many reposados and good silver tequilas on the rocks lately, because I find the Texas summer too hot for whiskey.
But that’s the problem. I’ve been drinking tequila all summer, and I’ve had some good ones. Isn’t vacation supposed to be a break from the norm? Isn’t there something else I should be looking for?
I’d love to say I’d liberate myself from the dogmatic prison of my resort and explore the real Mexico. Go deep into the countryside, find some old dude living in a shack who makes the best moonshine mezcal around. Even more so, I’d love to journey into Central Mexico and find an honest-to-goodness pulqueria to try pulque, an undistilled fermented maguey beverage I’ve read a lot about. But the truth is, I’m just not that adventurous … with my life, that is; not my tastebuds. So unless I can get canned pulque at the resort, I suspect I will return to the States once again without having tasted this mystique-filled Holy Grail of hooches.
And I doubt canned pulque would be worth it anyway. Probably best to just stick with what I know. And what I know is this: except for a Bohemia or two with a seafood taco lunch, I’ll probably go without beer until I get back.
But hey, six days without beer on a Mexican beach with great food and a Kindle full of classic science fiction novels is pretty much better than any other six days without beer. Right?
So off we go. And as Pink Floyd said, “Pass the tequila, Manuel.”