A Quiet Easter Sunday
04/10/07 07:18 AM Filed in: Mexico
San Miguel de Allende has been a zoo this Semana Santa. I've never seen so many visitors outside of the Sanmiguelada weekend. Vacationers have come to town to observe all of the rituals, processions and celebrations. The police diverted traffic away from the center of town, which only pushed the traffic jam out in to the surrounding neighborhoods. Frustrated drivers reacted angrily. Prince of Peace, my foot.
I was apprehensive about Easter Sunday. Would even more people crowd into town? Would there be even more partying? More noise?
Sister Suzie, Jean and I ventured out Sunday afternoon, looking for a restaurant that tourists wouldn't know about. We walked down to the corner of Terreplen and Jesús, where a window with a figure of Christ, a year-round fixture in our neighborhood, had been dressed up for the holiday.
He managed to look both serene and festive at the same time, with purple and white decorations and surrounded by Easter lilies.
Over on Reloj, one of the Judas figures awaited his fate.
You can see a pinwheel that circles his waist. This guy is going to spin! Inside his body, exploding firecrackers will blow him to bits.
When we crossed the Jardín, I wondered where everybody was. I expected huge crowds, but the scene looked like any other Sunday. People sat on benches, passing the time.
Behind this group, you can see a band in the gazebo...
... the San Rafael Music Band. Listen to their sound:
They have a quasi-german oompah sound, overlain with a latin beat. Two clarinets harmonize in thirds, joined eventually by brass, the tuning slides of which remain undiscovered by the musicians. This gives their performance a sort of sour, atonal quality. Don't get me wrong. I love this sound.
No mobs, no processions, no hordes of photographers. Just a warm afternoon in the park, everyone out relaxing, having a good time.
Some people lined up for a treat from the horse-drawn ice cream wagon.
Inside the gates of the Parroquoia, a ladies' auxiliary was selling gordos.
Half the people sitting on benches were eating something.
Toy vendors tempted the children; dried flower sellers angled for adults.
Street musicians looked for a gig, but the tourists were mostly gone. No takers.
The few tourists remaining, those who didn't have to make the long trek back to Mexico City by nightfall, did what tourists always do: Take pictures.
It was a good afternoon to get a shoe shine.
This customer's yellow and purple boots didn't seem to be a challenge for the shoeshine man.
It was a blessedly quiet day, a respite from the intensity of Semana Santa.
I think people were glad just to slow down, hang out in the park, relax in the warm weather. Like the Chivas fan in her red-and-white striped shirt, sitting in the shade, content to watch everyone else taking it easy too.
I was apprehensive about Easter Sunday. Would even more people crowd into town? Would there be even more partying? More noise?
Sister Suzie, Jean and I ventured out Sunday afternoon, looking for a restaurant that tourists wouldn't know about. We walked down to the corner of Terreplen and Jesús, where a window with a figure of Christ, a year-round fixture in our neighborhood, had been dressed up for the holiday.
He managed to look both serene and festive at the same time, with purple and white decorations and surrounded by Easter lilies.
Over on Reloj, one of the Judas figures awaited his fate.
You can see a pinwheel that circles his waist. This guy is going to spin! Inside his body, exploding firecrackers will blow him to bits.
When we crossed the Jardín, I wondered where everybody was. I expected huge crowds, but the scene looked like any other Sunday. People sat on benches, passing the time.
Behind this group, you can see a band in the gazebo...
... the San Rafael Music Band. Listen to their sound:
They have a quasi-german oompah sound, overlain with a latin beat. Two clarinets harmonize in thirds, joined eventually by brass, the tuning slides of which remain undiscovered by the musicians. This gives their performance a sort of sour, atonal quality. Don't get me wrong. I love this sound.
No mobs, no processions, no hordes of photographers. Just a warm afternoon in the park, everyone out relaxing, having a good time.
Some people lined up for a treat from the horse-drawn ice cream wagon.
Inside the gates of the Parroquoia, a ladies' auxiliary was selling gordos.
Half the people sitting on benches were eating something.
Toy vendors tempted the children; dried flower sellers angled for adults.
Street musicians looked for a gig, but the tourists were mostly gone. No takers.
The few tourists remaining, those who didn't have to make the long trek back to Mexico City by nightfall, did what tourists always do: Take pictures.
It was a good afternoon to get a shoe shine.
This customer's yellow and purple boots didn't seem to be a challenge for the shoeshine man.
It was a blessedly quiet day, a respite from the intensity of Semana Santa.
I think people were glad just to slow down, hang out in the park, relax in the warm weather. Like the Chivas fan in her red-and-white striped shirt, sitting in the shade, content to watch everyone else taking it easy too.
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