Thanks to the good graces of Alaska Airlines, I am resting on my bed in Melaque threading together some random thoughts in hope they will hang together -- better than a cheap Walmart suit.
Speaking of Walmart, I was in the Bend store on Tuesday with my brother. We were on some mission or other involving onions and envelopes when I was distracted by a shiny object. A pile of shiny objects to be exact.
I picked up an over-sized tricolor top hat and tried it on. Along with an over-sized tricolor bow tie. It was the St. Patrick's Day display. And I knew I just had to buy the outfit that made me look like a combination between a crazed leprechaun and an unemployed Saint Nick.
After all, San Patricio is days deep into our annual San Patricio Festival. But I didn't buy the hat. And I didn't buy the bow tie. Because they seemed a bit over the top. That is until I encountered the "Parading the Irish Saint" procession yesterday.
One of Mexpatriate's running stories is how the patron saint of Ireland ended up being the patron saint of a little Mexican fishing village on the Pacific coast? I am not certain why I find that so odd. After all, there are plenty of towns named after Italian and Spanish saints.
For some reason, an Irish saint just seems different. Almost like encountering a village in County Cork named Our Lady of Guadalupe West Muskberry.
I should have bought the costume. It appears that I would have fit in with the wearin' of the green in town yesterday.
I often point out that our little town doesn't quite fit in the mold of the more traditional colonial Mexican cities. And this photograph could be Exhibit A.
Maybe that is why I feel so comfortable here. Where eccentricity as worn as comfortably as an old trench coat.
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