trick or treating with the holy familiy

I am amazed that anything gets done in Mexico.

Or more, particularly, I am amazed at how I manage to get anything done in Mexico.
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On Tuesday night I was waking to dinner.  I had arranged to meet my landlady at a French bistro in town at 6:30.  And I was on track to get there on time.  She is always punctual.

Then out of nowhere, a parade of children appeared at an intersection.  And not just any parade. 

There was Mary on a real donkey.  Joseph.  Shepherds.  Angels.  Wise men.  All of them looking as if they had just escaped from a Sunday school play in Topeka.

The annual custom of the posada was at hand.  Where Mary and Joseph go door to door seeking shelter while their accompanying chorus sings to allow them admittance.  That is the retail version.

But this group had spotted a restaurant filled with Canadian tourists.  And the kids knew that nothing separates grandparents from money as quickly as smiling children in costumes.  Let's just call it Our Virgin of the Halloween.

Having sung for their pesos, they were on their way to share more terminal cuteness with the rest of the village.

I was late for dinner.  But it was well worth the experence.

After all, I did not come to Mexico to develop punctuality this late in my life.