Veracruz is a steamy, tropical city, hot and humid, sweaty and sleazy. At the packed tables of the Bar Palacio on the main square, a waiter delicately balances a tray stacked with tall, iced glasses of Cuba Libre, 95% rum with a dash of Coke. A fisherman’s wife hawks delicious plates of freshly caught prawns which she liberally sprinkles with fiery chilly powder and the sharp zest of a squeezed lime. Music is everywhere – merengue, salsa, rumba, mambo – as dozens of bands, marimba players, trumpeters and guitarists wander from table to table, vying for business.
Recent Comments