Somos en nuestra casa azul en el Calle San Roque.
Es la mañana de domingo.
Un milagro de la vida!
Last night, Saturday night.
EXTRA fiestas, EXTRA mariachis.
|click on any image to enlarge all|
This wonderful house has entry at ground, then bed and bath first (non-USA counting) floor, living, kitchen and dining on second floor, then big flat roof. See the blue arrow and blob I've put on this map.
|at the other end of town|
people know this
See on the map the green line with arrows of the mariachi route. Down past us and round our corner.
And down 50 metres to the Plaza San Roque from which their continuing performances for swelling crowds lift to our room. Some of it sounds like girls at Beatles concerts in the 1960s. Wonderful sounds, dwindling from 10.30pm to 11.30pm.
At 6.30 this morning, the bells of San Roque began. A serious local church summoning the faithful. Repeatedly... as did other churches nearby.
I write now at 8.15am. They are fine bells, again.
Some people who move to the country in Australia complain about cows and calves calling each other in the night, or roosters calling the dawn.
|seguramente usted entiende que|
solo yo guao cortésmente
These are all sounds of place.
Our neighbouring dogs, just across the lane, right in front of our living room window, are not barking, they are very civilised, seldom aroused, gentle and loved.
The barks in this moment are from perhaps dogs living above busier streets far off.
|we've never seen a dog bark in the street|
Today we must go and see a polling place for the elections, probably at a school.
Yesterday in the afternoon we went down the hill, into the Templo San Roque, on down to the Jardin Reforms, along to the Mercado Hidalgo and westward into less touristy places on Avenida Benito Juarez.
|the baroque is everywhere, with Mexican colour|
|inside San Roque|
a serious, local working church, off the big-tourist-church map
|outside, on the church steps, a private-as-you-can-find space|
|It needs to be appreciated that in Mexico this is not 'fringe' or 'Goth'|
In the spiritual life of Mexicans the dead are with us and their existence celebrated,
and they are not lost.
These are big characters
CHULO = pimp BONITA = beauty
|peaceful afternoon in the Jardin Reforma|
|from the Jardin to Avenida Juarez|
|and the grand entrance to the Mercado Hidalgo|
|where there is more food shopping downstairs, some artesanal things upstairs|
|Also upstairs, four month old Fernando and his proud dad.|
We see a lot of men in charge of babies and young children.
|Such a grand art deco cinema! It could be in California... if it wasn't so colourful.|
|a multicultural, multiethnic world, so many people with such strength of character|
|la cocina cinese|
|this is such a wonderful 'corner shop'|
... its awning like a dancer's skirt
... and it's roof? Well, as Helen noted, suitable for one pigeon only please.
|I am a public telephone, listen to me, speak to me.|
|I am just an everyday wall in Mexico.|
|Here you can learn to dance, romantically|
|here we organise your deaths, dramatically, one by one|
|I am an Oxxo|
I am rather beautiful
|thank you for seeing us|
|beauty in many things|
|the man was packing away his market stall which had stood before a remarkable wall|
|with grins, they initiated a slow, subtle Mexican wave to the camera|
sometimes things are so exciting I don't take the shot
|Almost home. No rain this afternoon.|
Slow day in the umbrella shop.
Alhondiga to the right.