The shopping trip and memories

church

THIS IS THE Santuario de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. It’s the most spectacularly colorful church I’ve ever seen. My child bride says there’s one just as impressive or better in Oaxaca, but I’ve never set foot in Oaxaca.

This photo doesn’t do it justice. I took it with my cell, having left my camera at the Hacienda when we visited the State Capital today, mostly for shopping and eating.

We ate lasagna. Then we visited the Modern Art Museum. Following that, we walked across the street, under an ancient aqueduct, and a block farther to this church.

We sat a spell.

Then we walked another block to a long, tree-lined pedestrian street full of old Spanish Colonial buildings, some of which are collapsing but some are restored and beautiful. We sat on a stone bench, and I shot the next photo.

phone
This is not a black-and-white photo.

We were less than two blocks from where I lived above a garage after arriving in Mexico in January of 2000. Square in the middle of this photo, you can see the back of a phone booth that’s been there at least 20 years, and who knows how much longer?

Maybe the Conquistadors installed it.

I had a Mexico City girlfriend before moving down here. We’d met on Match.com, and she’d already visited me twice in Houston before I retired youngish and moved south. She was 50 years old at the time but still a real babe. Some women can do that. Her mother was Mexican, and her father was a Spaniard. It mixed well in her, believe me.

Almost every night during the four months I lived above that garage just down the street, I walked to this phone booth and called her. The relationship did not pan out, and a year later we went our separate ways. Just as well because she was not as agreeable as the child bride I ended up with, who is also a real babe. Some women age well.

Then we stood up and headed to Costco and Walmart.

Summer is a good time

aloe
The aloe vera that soon will be larger than the house.

SUMMER STARTED a week ago officially, but it actually started hereabouts some weeks back, the real summer. When it started to rain.

I was walking up the Romance Sidewalk this morning when I noticed a hummingbird sitting casually on one of the aloe vera spikes. He didn’t seem concerned about anything much, and why should he? There are blooms to be sucked. Plenty of them.

Hummingbirds are brave, not much put off by people nearby, and this guy was like that, but he didn’t stick around while I retrieved my camera.

elyssum
Sweet alyssum barely holds on over the winter, but rain revives it quickly.

Cool, wet, sometimes sunny days are the norm till October or so.

I never walked up a Romance Sidewalk or any sidewalk in Houston all those years I lived there and spotted a hummingbird sitting on a huge aloe vera.

I never wore a flannel shirt in late June or long pants except to go to work. It was very different then, and it’s better now, especially not having to work at all.

But I’d prefer being younger, just a little bit.

bell
Ivy sneaks through the bell hole from the other side where it mostly covers every inch.

Sixteen years of Mexican matrimony

TODAY IS MY ANNIVERSARY, 16 years of wedded bliss.

I’ve been married three times, which has been interesting. The first lasted just five years but resulted in my only children. There were two. A girl who’s now almost 52, and a boy who died in the hospital after three days.

I then got a vasectomy. I was just 24.

My daughter is named Celeste, and my son was named Ian Lee.

The first was a self-imposed shotgun marriage. The second, which lasted 10 years though we lived together 19 years, was done for practical matters, health insurance mostly. The moral of this is don’t point a shotgun at yourself, and don’t marry for practical matters. Do it for the traditional reasons.

Do it for love and romance.

This last marriage, the ceremony, took place in the interior patio of my sister-in-law’s coffee shop on the main plaza. A judge presided. I had no idea how civil marriages were done in Mexico, so it was all a surprise to me.

You stand there with your witnesses, and the judge goes through the words. You don’t say, I do. You say, I accept, but in Spanish, of course.

wedding

Here we are waiting for the judge to show up. She was late. That’s me on the left, of course, my child bride, her sister who seethed with envy the entire evening (note face) and her husband, a man who later shot himself to death by mishap in a “cry for help” after his wife tossed him out in the street.

Mexico is full of endless drama.

We had a great time. About 30 people showed up, and we danced in the patio after the rather dry ceremony with the judge. This fellow provided the music.

This video was not shot during the wedding, but that’s the guy.

Having been married three times, twice to Gringas and once to a Mexicana, I cannot avoid making comparisons. Since the nations’ cultures are drastically different, so are the women. I recommend the latter over the former.

There is no comparison.

While I rather fell into the first two marriages, I was quite deliberate with this one. I even got down on my knee to propose, and I did it between two pyramids built centuries ago by the indigenous folks of our area.

pyramids

These are the actual pyramids. Women like it when you make a splash.

Whether it was the pyramids, the singer known as El Potro, the magic of the judge or some other unknown factor, this marriage has been a keeper.

Best move of my life.

The bedroom wall

wall

RETURNING HOME late yesterday afternoon after sitting on the big plaza downtown, watching workmen erect metal scaffolds to support canvas roofs under which the yearly Semana Santa market will unfold next week, I walked into the bedroom and noticed this part of the wall in the light of early evening.

The camera asked for a flash, but I ignored it.

The lamp light did the trick, along with a little extra from the nearby window. Sometimes, you just gotta follow your gut instinct.