Hacienda happenings and pilgrims too

New Image
Some pilgrims travel this way.

HOLA, AMIGOS. It’s a lovely day at the Hacienda, and here’s what’s happening.

I am alone today, abandoned by my child bride who, with her sister and the nephew formerly known as The Little Vaquero, has gone on a pilgrimage. The trio is walking to a town about 12 miles distant.

They left at 10 a.m.

This is an annual event, and hundreds of folks hereabouts do it. But not me. I have no desire to go on pilgrimages. It’s a religious event — Catholic, of course — but that’s not why my trio does it. They just like the walk, which takes about three hours.

They switched to this pilgrimage two years ago. They previously went on a far longer one to a town called Caracuaro to visit the “Black Jesus.”

I once went on that pilgrimage, years back, out of curiosity. The traditional way is to walk, but I drove because I am a lazy pilgrim.

I walked through throngs of other pilgrims in the streets of Caracuaro, some on their knees. I ate tacos and beans, and I came home. It was my only visit. The Black Jesus will have to get along without me in the future.

I said I was alone today, but that’s not quite true. There are workmen here. January and February are when we do renovations at the Hacienda. It doesn’t rain in January and February normally, so it’s a good time for renovations.

We’re having work done on some windows, and there’s painting too. I’ll have a full post on that in a few days because I know you’re curious.

Meanwhile, here I sit, alone, while my pilgrims stroll in the sunshine.

Bull dick taco

IMAGINE MY horror.

But first, let’s back up a bit.

It was just two weeks ago roundabouts that I was standing beside my favorite fast-food stand on our small plaza downtown, eating a shrimp cocktail.

The proprietress with the bleach-blonde tresses tossed a meat cylinder of some questionable appearance on the chopping block and proceeded to dice it with a cleaver.

What is that? I inquired, foolishly. She was chopping a cooked bull penis. Again, imagine my horror.

Part of said material landed atop a tostada with all the trimmings and served to a customer. My mind reeled.

You run into some pretty weird stuff living down here, but this one had passed me by. In the 17 years since I crossed the Rio Bravo, that was the first I’d heard of this, uh, delicacy.

I finished my shrimp cocktail and walked away.

Then yesterday I was on the big plaza. There’s a new taco restaurant near my sister-in-law’s coffee shop. I was hungry, so I stepped in and stood by the stove.

While waiting to order, there it was, a familiar sight. The cook dropped a bull penis on the grill. I knew it by sight because it’s not something you easily forget. He diced it and served it on tacos to the customers ahead of me.

Returning to the coffee shop with a couple of normal tacos — they weren’t very good, by the way — I asked my child bride and her sister if they had eaten bull dick tacos. My sister-in-law said yes and that they were quite tasty.

My wife said no, thank God. I can still kiss her.

Independence day


TODAY IS Mexico’s version of the Fourth of July.

Here on the mountaintop, we start partying on the previous evening, and we continue today. I don’t participate much because I’m not party people.

I did salute the flag yesterday evening on the plaza as a police band played, and the banner was brought down for its usual overnight siesta indoors.

That makes the third time since I became a citizen in 2005 that I’ve saluted the Mexican flag. It’s not that I avoid it. I just rarely find myself at an event where it’s appropriate.

I’ll admit it feels weird. Wish it didn’t but it does.

While downtown yesterday, I took the photo while sitting on a cement bench on the plaza. And, of course, you’ll find other Fabulous Fotos by Felipe right here, amigos.

¡Viva México! Bring on the tacos and cerveza.