Throughout the country, Mexicans gathered in their town squares to hear a local political leader re-enact Miguel Hidalgo's cry for independence from Spain just over two hundred years. To rise up and kill the Spanish colonial masters.
I intended to hear el grito (as Hidalgo's call to arms is called) at Dolores Hidalgo, where it was first announced. That did not quite work out. Because of the weather.
In weather 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer (a Shakespearean pun that may have been just a bit too precious), I told you that a tropical depression was headed our way from the Gulf. Well, it is now a hurricane, and there is a tropical storm sliding north along the Pacific. Both of them will undoubtedly bring more rain to San Miguel de Allende.
Not that the town needs any more. We have had three straight days of light rain. On Saturday night the pace picked up.
Because of the pending rains, the alarmists in the U.S. State Department have turned their hysteria machines from Syria to Mexico:
In the past, many U.S. citizens have been forced to delay travel due to infrastructure damage to airports and limited flight availability. Roads were also washed out or obstructed by debris, adversely affecting access to airports and land routes out of affected areas. Reports of looting and sporadic violence in the aftermath of natural disasters are not uncommon. Security personnel may not be readily available to assist at all times.As I sit here typing, there is no rioting in the streets. Perhaps John Kerry and the Francophones have trouble distinguishing patriotic fervor from riots. After all, Boston does have a history of political mayhem.
Instead, our streets were filled with Independence Day revelers. Revelers with umbrellas, who waited patiently for the mayor to show up (late) to kick off the festivities with his version of el grito. Where each of his cheers were echoed with a crowd-hearty "Viva!"
Followed by an awesome collection of fireworks. The traditional (and rather boring) sky rockets that are familiar up north. But there were also several castillos -- cleverly constructed pieces of fireworks art.
And no fiesta would be complete without several bands that allowed the more tequilaed to ignore the rain and dance to their secret passions. Despite what frat boys may believe, alcohol does not improve one's dancing.
It was a trek well worth taking up and down the hill. Though I am not certain my shoes will recover their ankle-deep baptism for the past half hour.
What the State Department failed to warn me about was the greatest danger of all. A genuine Biblical plague.
On Saturday night I noticed that I was no longer alone in the casita. A small brown scorpion (the variety with the painful venom) was in the shower stall. While I was busy alternatively photographing it and trying to end its pitiful life, I dislodged a second scorpion from the stool in the shower.*
I suspect they were doing what I have been doing. Trying to avoid the rain.
They now nap in the toilet bowl. Rather, their various body parts do.
You will not be surprised that I was more fascinated with these incredible creatures than I was concerned about getting stung. They are brilliantly designed to capture, kill, and eat other insects. But, for the two of them, not any more.
As the runoff from the rain rises, I suspect I will have the opportunity to watch a few more. What could be better in one week? Scorpions and celebrating Independence Day in true Mexican fashion.
Who says I need to be in Melaque to get my wildlife thrills?
* -- I apologize for the quality of the scorpion photograph. I did not take much time to focus while I was playing with the pair.