La Alborada

"THE DAWN"

This is what they call the Feast of Saint Michael (of San Miguel fame). This is the festival commemorating some significant part of Mexico´s battle for independence that occurred here or near here. The festivities were interesting, to say the least. The main gathering started at 3am Saturday morning in El Jardín (the garden in the center of town). There was a parade, music, and, most importantly, fireworks. It´s safe to say La Alborada was the most intimate, passionate, careless, and dangerous display of patriotism I have ever seen... but then again I´ve never been to Texas on the 4th of July so who knows... Unfortunately my camera died after taking those first few pictures of La Parroquia (the giant church in el jardín) so words will have to suffice. An insignificant part of the firework show was the organized, occasional launch of bigger fireworks like many of us used to see 30 times a year for Griffey in the kingdome (accounting for road game dingers). It appeared as though these fireworks, fired every five minutes or so, served solely as flares for those not already gathered in the center, as if to say "Hey idiots who aren´t already here, there´s a giant party and you´re supposed to be at it." The majority of the show, the heart of the show, was the constant spray of fireworks (more like firecrackers) directly into the crowd. This continued non-stop for two straight hours. It basically sounded like a war scene out of Forrest Gump. Within ten minutes of arriving I was dotted right between the eyes with some firework debris. I was surprised at first, but when I realized they didn´t hurt (a very weakly founded conclusion), I figured why not get all up in it. There was an area cleared for only the bravest of souls where the majority of the fireworks were exploding, so I made a bee-line for the lion´s den with Ozvanny and Michael. With our hoods pulled down over our faces we ran and jumped around in a circle with Ozvanny´s cousin and some other friends for a good 45 minutes. Understandably I was hit all over by flying shit, but it never hurt and left a very faintly warm spot on my clothing. There was a guy whose leg caught on fire, but he must have been jumping around wrong... After we got tired and I realized I probably just looked like another drunk American asshole, Michael went home and the rest of us retreated to Poppy´s house, which has an amazing view of La Parroquia (see the new pictures). However, because the fireworks rarely made it above eye level, all we could see were the infrequent professional looking displays and the glow of the more popular, more incendiary ones. This only made the whole event seem even more for la gente (the people); completely blocked off for anyone too busy or too tired to show up. Though the fireworks seemed random, as though people just couldn´t help but shoot them off, calling them unsanctioned would be like saying this isn´t the greatest blog in history. The vast majority of them came from behind La Parroquia´s gates, and the church bells rang for the entire two-hour duration, barely audible from within the crowd. Que increíble, que fatigoso...

BERG´S EYE VIEW

· The grasshoppers here are on PCP... or maybe, because I haven´t seen any apple trees around, they just don´t know about gravity yet. They casually throw themselves around like they don´t realize they´re going to land. They skid and roll across the ground on their stomachs, backs, sides, whatever, and get up just to do it again. Or maybe it´s like that thing with sharks where they become immobile when turned upside down in water... Either way, evolution fucked with them.

· Matías is gone now. His mom pulled him from the daycare because of his screaming and crying problem (from what I understand). Yesterday was eerily tranquil without him. He had only been there a week, but I don´t think anyone felt quite right with him gone. I have a few pictures up with him and a new crying baby, Saul, who will have to take his place now. One of the teachers called me "la papa de los bebes que siempre lloran"... the papa of the babies who always cry. Really it just seems like those are the niños the teachers need the most help with. It beats changing diapers.

· There are a whole lot of insane looking old white women here. They all fit a general description. Older than 60, makeup like a clown, with space-cadet eyes that I would swear are glass if it weren´t for the occasional blink. None of them even try to learn Spanish. Any words they know were probably absorbed accidentally.

· The entire city is eternally under construction. Apparently in Mexico you don´t need an occupancy permit to live on your property, so people buy land and gradually save money to build the houses up around them. In many cases construction will cease completely for a year or more while people work to save up. This means a lot of houses look abandoned or damaged, but really it´s an excellent idea.

· My Spanish vocabulary is steadily growing, but my grammar remains on par with the daycare kids.

· Bakeries here smell heavenly, but most of the sweet bread products are too dry.

· People here are much more affectionate than in the US, though I think that´s true for most countries. It´s a good thing, in my opinion.

· Taking good pictures is hard. I don´t know how anyone does it. Every landscape-type picture looks the same. Sorry for all those flower close-ups. The flower setting on the camera was the only one I could notice a difference with so I tested it out... exhausted it, apparently. Posting them on this blog is also hard. Well maybe it´s not, but it´s not working as smoothly as I had hoped. You´ll just have to click on the oversized, cropped versions when I post them and it´ll take you to my album on Photobucket. Sorry.

· There are a ton of basketball courts here but nobody uses them. When I do see someone shooting around it always looks like they´ve never touched a ball before. Apparently there are some competetive organized games on the weekends but if the PBA (Phillippines) game I watched was any indication of foreign basketball, these games aren´t worth my time.

· For all you Google Earthers, I forgot to look at my address before coming to this internet cafe. Looking at the street sign outside of the door, I think I´m on Avenida Colonial. I´ll try to remember next time.

· ¿Dónde está mi iPod? Chinga tu madre... (Sally, don´t read that part to your kids, even if they say it all the time).