Yesterday, Nonblogger Ken, the Farmboyz, Aaron and I spent the day in interesting Newark, New Jersey, the ancestral homeland of my parents and grandparents. We had lunch at a fantastic Mexican place in Newark's Ironbound District, where we communicated to the staff primarily with pointing and waving arms. We were especially charmed by the restaurant's large statue of the BVM poised in the window, clutching a fistful of money, prompting Aaron to say, "One thing I like about Our Lady of Guadeloupe is that she is all about the Benjamins."
It felt oddly good to be back in the Motherland. I shall return again one day and pay proper tribute to my ancestors, donning the colorful costume and performing the native ritual dance, which, for utmost authenticity, must be performed in a drunken stagger, preferably near a dumpster in the rear of a liquor store. Luckily, there are many, many places in Newark in which this can be accomplished.