And in this moment, like a swift intake of breath, the rain came.
Truman Capote, Other Voices, Other Rooms
La Fiesta de Los Locos
June 13 is the Feast of San Antonio de Pádua in San Miguel (unlike in Boston’s North End where the last weekend of August marks the celebration). The Sunday following the Feast Day is marked by a parade that goes along the streets of Zacateros, Hernández Macías, Insurgentes, Aparicio and Núñez, then down San Francisco until it reaches el Jardín. I understand the parade is similar to How Berkeley Can You Be and the Toronto Zombie Walk. D and I are going, so I’m likely to have some photos from the parade.
Among the parade’s regulations, as announced by Father Antonio González Lara of the Parroquia de San Antonio de Padua and Fernando Peralta of the Cuadro de Locos del Tecolote (one of the four groups that organizes the thousand or so marchers) is the following:
Tampoco se permiten disfraces que denigren a la mujer, como también disfraces de monje de cualquier color, pintura corporal en cualquiera de sus modalidades.
A rough translation would be that no costumes will be permitted that denigrate women, there can be no monk’s costumes of any color, and there is no body painting. Another rule prohibits the use of black robes and hoods.
The day belongs not only to St. Anthony but to San Pascual Baylon Yubero, a Franciscan, as well. He was known as the patron of field and kitchen workers as much of his own life had been spent as a shepherd and a cook. His day had been celebrated 17 May, but over time the two celebrations have merged in San Miguel and are celebrated jointly in June.
I’ve seen estimates that upwards of 80,000 people will watch the parade, which is greater than the population of the city proper.
Reunion & Facebook
I am too distant to help with the planning for the reunion of my high school class next year, but as my contribution to the cause, I have been trying to track down classmates whose whereabouts are unknown. There have been a number of students from my school who have gone on to greatness or fame, including Mr. Capote, although as far as I know no one from my class has reached those heights. The school has had one Nobel winner, although that was in economics which everyone knows is another word for voodoo as everything in economics is both true and false at the same time.
In doing the research one learns of passings, is surprised by those who have achieved in unanticipated ways, is reminded of just how human we all are with our love for spouses, partners, children, grandchildren and in some cases great-grandchildren.
Social networking tools and I have had a courteous though mostly unrewarding relationship. I’ve become a member of Facebook more than once, have a profile on LinkedIn, etc. I’ve always thought the tools to be more an intrusion than useful, but at this point in time Facebook has become handier than email as a way of staying in touch with people and of learning what is important to people I’ve recently met.
The housekeeper attempted to remove the glass section of my French press coffee maker from it’s plastic cage and cracked the bottom of the maker. I didn’t see her try to clean the device and if I had I would have stopped her and shown her how to clean it. I wasn’t angry at her, just disappointed that I have to replace it. It was difficult to find here in San Miguel and expensive (compared to other locales) as well. So it’s a nuisance to replace. The French press is the only way I know to make good-tasting coffee reliably and I love its simplicity. No plugs, timers, lights, dripping, vaporizing, metal inserts, or any of the other sophisticated devices. Heat water, measure coffee into the press, pour hot water in, pay attention to the time, and wait just a few minutes.
In an email to someone I mentioned that there are days when I just don’t make it out of the casita, when I’m in my pj’s all day. He vollied with agoraphobia and mentioned something about my being imprisoned. These two comments led to (1) thoughts of angoraphobia (which I think everyone has had since at least the 1970s and most certainly since Johnny Depp played Ed Wood, the director of supposedly the worst movie ever) and (2) to titles for some type of literary effort: “PJ Prisoner” and “She Was Imprisoned by Her PJs.”
Insipid Song #6, Stays In Mexico
Performed by Toby Keith. This tacky song takes a slightly different tack, ripping off the Las Vegas “Stays in Vegas” theme as well as a more Miami-ish hedonism. Is it likely that a South Dakota salesman would find himself in a Mexico beach resort without his wife and children?