February 4, 2023 ( late entry) The wi-fi is down, so this post is delayed until I have internet
The rhythm is a good one. I read and nibble on a mandarin orange until Café Tal is open and Bruce will go down, order coffee and croissant, and sit on the cafe rooftop with mountains in the background and birds going crazy in the big tree.
I was supposed to meet Eliseo, an art show organizer, but it never developed during the day. I decided to take the bus down to the historic center. 10 Pesos (50 cents) gets a ride on the big smoky blue bus downtown through streets that are barely wider than the bus. As we pull up to the big mercado general, I jump out and saunter into the market, now in full activity.
After downing a wonderful mango-banana-oatmeal milkshake, I headed up to my main destination for the morning, the Alhóndiga, a word I was not familiar with. This was originally a corn exchange or granary, but in 1810, Miguel Hidalgo and his insurgents were threatening revolution. He led his troops down to attack the Alhóndiga. The story is, that a very strong indigenous man known as El Pipila tied a giant stone to his back to avoid being shot and brought kerosene to douse the eastern door of the alhóndiga and burn the door down. Hidalgo and his insurgents were able to enter the building and massacre the government troops and rich people hiding inside. Later Hidalgo and three others were hung from the rooftop of the alhóndiga and the hooks are still there with the insurgents’ names.
Heading back into town, I meandered through parks and pedestrian streets. The feeling on the street was happy with many people enjoying themselves.
After getting some lunch, I continued up towards my apartment.
Back at my apartment I read books about Edwin Weston, the famous photographer, and his wife Charis Wilson, who was also the mother of the hostess of the home I was visiting, Rachel Wilson. Hummingbirds flitted in and out of my patio. I took a picture.
