Escaping the Heat, Day 23 a.m.

July 31, 2022

We Found the Barrio

Hills at last!

I estimated I would spend about 15 minutes a day writing in this journal. Who knew that nothing could produce so much? I salute Jerry Seinfeld.

We were ready to move out of IDF and into more adventures on Sunday morning. First, a stop at Geraldine’s Bake Shop and Deli, the only reason being that my mother’s name was Geraldine. En route I discovered via social media that Geraldine’s was closed on Sunday. She was probably at church.

Another quick search led us to The Trigo Bakery, or was it Panaderia? The glass on the door said Panaderia; the sign overhead Trigo. We were definitely in the barrio, though, Spanish being the primary language. Not a big fan of Mexican pastries, we drove off without going inside. Further study online showing that we might find some special treats there, we returned.

The Trigo Bakery was adjacent to the Midget Market, the name eliciting unwanted visions of what was on the shelves. Sorry, no links available. You can Google for more information. The bakery was a small shop already selling out of many pastries. Taking tray and tongs, we chose a chocolate croissant and a pineapple muffin. One thing I appreciate about many Mexican desserts is that they aren’t overly sweet. We were not disappointed. The delicacies were delicious! Unfortunately, coffee was not available.

As we returned to our car, a Hispanic gentleman was bearing two large bakery boxes filled with pastries. “You must be having a good party,” I observed. He laughed, “No, big family.” I love the Mexicans.

One more stop at McDonald’s for my senior coffee. Alas, the double drive-thru line extended to the street, so I ran inside and estimated a 20-minute wait. Thankfully, I don’t have to have caffeine when I first get up. I could wait.

As we left IDF for the last time, I enumerated the sites that we had not seen: the zoo, the art museum, and the temple museum, none of which grabbed our interest. We also bypassed most bars and restaurants, including the Yellowstone Food Village, a parking lot where food trucks appear to take breaks between gigs. We saw different trucks each time we drove by.

We were happy to leave behind the industrial sprawl of Idaho Falls, Ammon, Lincoln? I am not sure where we were. We had enjoyed our time there, unwinding completely, but agreed that we had stayed too long. Within 20 minutes we were in the foothills approaching the Grand Tetons. I relaxed as the horizon drew my eyes toward the hills.

Author: Mary Cornelius

I am an aging woman who writes three blogs.