A half-dozen or so of you might have seen some of these pictures which I posted on FB; but perhaps the other half-dozen did not, so here are the pictures from some of the goings-on during Holy Week.
First and foremost, the procession of the Virgin, the authentic one, not the ones whose pictures come later:
So, off went the Virgin of Dolores with the crowd following. Up ahead were the other "virgins", dancing their heart away in honor of the "real" Virgin.
That standard carrier was my choice to represent Mexico in New York Mayor Bloomberg's campaign against drinking too many sugary sodas. But, after she cleared the way, came the other dancers:
"Hmmm," I said, "are you sure you folks did not confuse the Virgin of Dolores procession with the Carnival in Rio de Janeiro?"
"No," I was told. "We, like Saint Francis Asisi, have taken a vow of poverty and have given our clothes to the poor."
Ah, well, that explains it
After the, uh, dancers, came the drum and bugle corps of the tough guy police force, as exemplified by Juan "Break Every Bone In Their Body" Garcia and his mentor, Pedro "Iron Hands" Rodriguez, who followed behind.
Where was I, you might ask?
Yeah, that's me at the head of the procession.
Here's a better look at me. No, I am not the guy with the candle on his face, I'm the buy with the blue sash on the right edge of the picture.
No, not really. I was walking backwards, in front of the procession, taking pictures, until I fell on my, uh, rear end. The festivities went on into the night.
The festivities ended with a spectacular boom, really. There were lots of fireworks.
The next day, Saturday of Glory, we were invited to go up and ring the bells for the noon mass. We were to ring ALL the bells. It is an unnerving experience. I couldn't hear well for the next two days!
There's Claudette with the only bell ringer who is her size.
You can see from this picture that this ain't no place for anyone with vertigo. Jimmy Steward would have vomited if he had come up here. Forget the bells at Capistrano!
This is our friend. He is the owner of the newspaper/magazines/souvenir shop that's across from the plaza. He is also a volunteer bell ringer.
A real nice guy but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. When I first met him, I thought his name was "What?" because I asked him his name and he would answer, "What?" For a minute I though he was playing something like the old Abbot and Costello routine, "Who's on first?" but I realized he was sort of hearing impaired from all the bell ringing.
This thing weight 15 tons. Nobody knows how they got it up there or if they got it up there. That is, some bells were cast in situ, or so the legend says. I think they used a helicopter although people assure me helicopters were not invented yet when it was put up there in 1759.
You can almost see the curvature of the world from up here.
Hulooo, you insects, you ants...Ahhh, ha, ha, ha...I'm on top of the world, Ma. Top of the world!
This is the official bell ringer for the church. He rings them bells from 5:30 AM to 9:30 PM, every hour on the hour, not only for the mass, but he also rings the Angelus and for special occasions like the procession. He says little and hears less.
Guess where the bell ringers go to pee when nature calls? Yup, behind the dome!
Exhausted from the fray, we took a deserved rest at the guest house where distinguished persons stay when visiting Dolores. We just sort of snuck in there.
Later, we repaired to the nearest hostelry for some delicious mole and chiles rellenos...well accompanied by some dark Negra Modelo beer.
Oh, yeah!
I will be taking pictures at my friends birthday party on the 13th of this month. It promises to be a real, authentic Mexican food fest. It will be held in a town that is at the foot of Popocatepetl, a still active volcano. I hope it stays quiet that day.
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