When me and Sona left for our Mexican cooking honeymoon in Puebla, I had no idea it would be quite so much fun. While I would have been perfectly content with cooking mole, roaming through the colorful streets of Puebla, eating spicy corn, and drinking horchata, Sona decided to amp it up. We were wandering through a tiny little side-street and picked up a flier with the names of random luchadors. I knew this word because I’d just watched Nacho Libre last month, and considered myself an expert on all things lucha related.
We couldn’t tell what area it was in or how much the tickets were, so I put it out of my thoughts. A few days later, Sona pulls out the flier while we’re at the cooking school and Roan, one of the chefs, tells us he’ll come with us! And it was awesome. We joined in swearing in Spanish at some of them. I got pretty close to the ring, which was splattered with blood, and I quickly got the hell out of the way when a wrestler got flung out of the ring.