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OAXACA, MEXICO
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[ R Y D E R ]
I never thought that fish tacos would save my life.
It was quite the story. It went something like this, once upon a time, there was a man named Pedro Gonzalez who owned a small taco shack by the beach. He made the meanest fish tacos, the best I ever had in my life. Every morning I went out to surf, at around 6 or 7 AM, and I usually came back to the shore at around 12 PM. I would make my way to Pedro's shack and order two plates of fish tacos for lunch. And I did the same thing every day for a month now.
Pedro wasn't a man of many words. He didn't speak English well, and my Spanish was... well, I knew ‘hola’ and 'gracias', but that was about it.
But P
