Grass is greener, both sides of the fence!

One day last week Leo asked, “Had breakfast yet?”

I grabbed my bag and we headed to the gordita place. I’m certain there are a hundred gordita places in Etzatlan. This one is on the man street; that’s what I call it. Block after block of repair shops, tire and tool stores, that kind of thing. Man stuff, man street.

These aren’t stores like we are used to seeing. Might be five or six a block, open fronts, no signage. Might be more workers than tools.

I sat in a plastic chair, at a battered red metal Coca Cola table, waiting for my gordita. Across the street, a dozen men hung out around the moto...