I starting seeing a ton of small yellow fruits along the road. Not quite lemons, I needed a closer look. At my son’s school a fellow Mom and I picked some up. “They’re mangos” she answered to my query.
Smaller, and more mealy than the mangos you buy in the store, they don’t yield much fruit. But nonetheless – mangos falling all over the place!
The locals don’t seem to care, but to a Wisconsinite like me, mangos are exotic. Back in WI, if you bring mangos to a party, or get a mango smoothie, it’s special. Like a taste of the tropics. You’re fancy schmancy. ooooo…mangos.
Here, eh, mangos fall from tree into the ditch. In fact, on three separate occasions a mango beaned my car roof. It was loud and scared me! (“In other news, a gringa drove off the road when a mango beaned her car and she freaked out.”)
I decided to eat one. Yeah, it was mealy and mostly skin and seed. Maybe it was a little underripe. I could see why the locals just raked them up and tossed them out. Or ran over them with their cars. Now there is mango mush all around.
Squish the exoticness!