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Commentary Taco shops: San Diego's 24/7 cultural resource By Erin Blakemore October 24, 2005 San Diego--I'm a flake, a quitter—and, like a bad habit, I've forsaken and returned to San Diego more times than I’d like to admit. There's gravity there, something that keeps pulling me back no matter how far I stray. What is it—the beach, you say? The temperate climate? That fabled laid-back culture? Um…not exactly. I'm thinking more along the lines of physical gravity—the proverbial shop on the corner—every corner. I'm thinking about taco shops. For me, taco shops aren't just a San Diego institution, they're the lifeblood of the city, the glue that holds the community together and a magnifying glass that exposes the cracks in its foundation. And they're like no other taco shops in the country. Believe me, I've tried them all—from New York to Los Angeles, from Denver to Massachusetts—and a carne asada burrito in San Diego is a very different beast from its cross-country counterparts. Maybe the San Diego cooks come from the same Mexican tradition; maybe it's in the temperate air. Taco shops in San Diego taste different.
And taco shops aren't just essential eating, they're a sort of time capsule of San Diego. Every no-name shop and "bertos" knockoff (In addition to the classic Alberto's, a drive down El Cajon Boulevard will reveal Aliberto's, Filiberto's, and Royberto's, to name a few.), holds a bit of neighborhood color and history. Hand-painted murals depict mixed messages of Mexican pride while newly installed drive-throughs imitate American fast-food clichés. Flyers and neighborhood publications are often littered near the front of the shop, along with video games that draw the local kids. Yup, San Diegans don't know how good they have it. But for all their good-time atmosphere, the taco shops aren't all fun and games. When I idealize the taco shop culture I so miss, I must remind myself that they inhabit a strange border space somewhere between cultural appropriation and full-on culture shock. It's easy to celebrate taco shops as one of our few multilingual, multiethnic community spaces, but for every respectful regular, there seems to be a San Diegan who can't speak a word of Spanish. Those who have never ventured more than ten miles over the border struggle to make themselves understood to wait staff who, though residents of the same city, live half a world away. Visit a taco shop at peak hours and watch the counterperson seamlessly switch between Spanish and English to accommodate different cultures and you'll get a real appreciation for the ways in which taco shops straddle two often conflicting worlds. Luckily, San Diego has groups like the Taco Shop Poets (http://vozalta.u33.infinology.com/tsp/what_we_do.htm#loquees), performance artists appearing at a taco shop near you and engaging in spoken word performances that challenge and invite San Diegans to take stock of one of their most precious and ambiguous resources—the taco shop culture that brings two cultures together while exposing their true divisions. So next time you're digging into California fries or a chorizo burrito, stop, breathe in the scent of fryer, jamaica and cheese, and savor a bit of San Diego culture for me.
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