Daydreaming of retread tire shops while eating mango ice cream in the newly restored Plaza Grande. As much as I love Scott Joplin, and the newly refurbished plaza, I prefer the clippity cloppity of "old men" dancing in wooden shoes with twisted canes... to the piped in ragtime. Bose must've chipped in handsomely for the new pavers, flowers, and speakers. Still, Plaza Grande is beautifully understated.
Reading Hokusai surrounded by teenagers necking, admiring his women diving for abalone in Sangi Takamura from "The Hundred Poems Explained by a Nurse." Amazing detail and very inspiring, but my hat keeps blowing off in the wind. Lost a day due to a stomach bug, which I blame on the altitude and not the delicious eats. I don't blame the mariscos, carne apache, pizzas, cervezas, mescal, ravioli, Sopa Tarasca, guacamole, chuletas de cerdo, Huevos Rancheros, mango smoothies, chocolate flan, consomme de pollo, chilaquiles, or the endless pastries available only a few steps from our front door. Fireworks exploding at all hours, LOUD explosions...sensory assaults demanding God's attention. "Hey God, check this out...BOOM!"
So good catching up with old friends in new places. Walking muchly, making more, sleeping soundly.
