I ran into a Canadian couple examining the large framework (castillo) that supported the fireworks for the Guadalupe feast on Sunday evening.
They had never seen anything like it. So, I walked them through the various layers. And what firework surprises they could expect.
They were very uncertain of how close the crowd would stand. And more so when I told them of the regular scorchings that occur.
The husband asked when it was going to be lit off. I told him I had heard 9. Or 10. But it could be anywhere up to midnight -- depending on how long the rest of the festivities ran.
The wife looked worried. "Midnight? What about the children? It's a school night. Maybe we could talk to someone in charge who has a schedule."
And there it was. The word that forms the border between Mexico and Up There.
Schedule. The belief that life can (and should) be lived in equal increments of time.
The talent show that evening was a perfect example how time in Mexico tends to take its own path.
On would come a young singer. She would present us with a tune or two. Then off she would go. Followed with a random amount of loud recorded music.
People milled. People talked. Then on came a group of dancers. Same drill. Off they went. More interlude music. More milling.
It reminded me of the local rodeos where the event took precedence over the performance.
Anyone expecting a linear progression in any of these gatherings will be frustrated. Things will happen when they do. It is all about enjoyment. Not time. And certainly not what is going to happen mañana.
I have returned to Mexico this time without a wristwatch. Without a clock in my cell phone -- because I have no cell phone. Without my fisherman watch that once hung from a belt loop.
For most things, I do not need to know what time it is. I eat when I am hungry. I read when I feel like it. I write blog posts when the mood hits. I take drives into the countryside on a whim (or in my Escape, if my whim is acting up).
All of this idealism will come to an end before too long. At some point, I will purchase a mobile telephone for use in Mexico. For medical emergencies if nothing else. And I will once again be time-informed.
I just hope I will not care very much how I spend it.
P.J. O'Rourke once wrote: "It is better to spend money like there is no tomorrow than to spend tonight like there is no money."
That just may apply to time, as well.
They had never seen anything like it. So, I walked them through the various layers. And what firework surprises they could expect.
They were very uncertain of how close the crowd would stand. And more so when I told them of the regular scorchings that occur.
The husband asked when it was going to be lit off. I told him I had heard 9. Or 10. But it could be anywhere up to midnight -- depending on how long the rest of the festivities ran.
The wife looked worried. "Midnight? What about the children? It's a school night. Maybe we could talk to someone in charge who has a schedule."
And there it was. The word that forms the border between Mexico and Up There.
Schedule. The belief that life can (and should) be lived in equal increments of time.
The talent show that evening was a perfect example how time in Mexico tends to take its own path.
On would come a young singer. She would present us with a tune or two. Then off she would go. Followed with a random amount of loud recorded music.
People milled. People talked. Then on came a group of dancers. Same drill. Off they went. More interlude music. More milling.
It reminded me of the local rodeos where the event took precedence over the performance.
Anyone expecting a linear progression in any of these gatherings will be frustrated. Things will happen when they do. It is all about enjoyment. Not time. And certainly not what is going to happen mañana.
I have returned to Mexico this time without a wristwatch. Without a clock in my cell phone -- because I have no cell phone. Without my fisherman watch that once hung from a belt loop.
For most things, I do not need to know what time it is. I eat when I am hungry. I read when I feel like it. I write blog posts when the mood hits. I take drives into the countryside on a whim (or in my Escape, if my whim is acting up).
All of this idealism will come to an end before too long. At some point, I will purchase a mobile telephone for use in Mexico. For medical emergencies if nothing else. And I will once again be time-informed.
I just hope I will not care very much how I spend it.
P.J. O'Rourke once wrote: "It is better to spend money like there is no tomorrow than to spend tonight like there is no money."
That just may apply to time, as well.
