Today is Sunday, the 8th of February. We have some sort of holiday tomorrow, although we haven’t discerned what it is or what to expect as yet. We don’t know if services are curtailed or not, stores and markets open or closed. But currently, around here everyone is geared for the Superbowl event. Restaurants are biding their time, salesmen are suggesting that they have to sell their wares to buy beer, and there is an air of quiet outside, a very unusual occasion. Cars are not going by with speakers at full blast; in fact, we are usually a loud and busy street, and there is an emptiness, a hush that is tangible. Go rockets! Go Bad Bunny! Go advertisements! May someone win big!
We went to church today, this being Sunday. Our Lady of Guadelupe is not only a church, it is a Cathedral, a special designation that is given to the throne, or the seat of the local church hierarchy – the bishop. It is often a more ornate, elaborately decorated structure as befits it’s symbolic authority. So we went.
We often go to church when we travel – they are marvels, often art museums, often cultural expressions too. So in Israel, we went to services at a synagogue, in Hungary, we visited, but did not attend Mosque. We’ve not been to India yet. This Sunday we were Catholics, one Baptist and an only-God-knows-what.
I was familiar with the Latin Mass in my childhood, so translations from the Spanish were fairly easy, and Lew was married to a Catholic/Episcopal/Presbyterian, so…
The churches in Italy are more ornate, and although they share many details, like the little efigy saints in coffins, railings, marble floors, etc, the whole design seemed plainer. The colors are white, with accents in very subtle green. Pillars, tall, reaching for the heavens, yes. Center aisle, with pews on each side, altar rail, yes. But where every inch of wall, ceiling, and floor in Italy is decorated, this church was only decorated in the altar area, but then quite a lot. The rest – stark, with simple white plaques commemorating Jesus’ trial and crucifixion. The drama was from the many chandeliers and gold trim here and there. There was a cantor, who I think was also the organist. He did a nice job, too.
This church was very alive with parishioners, standing room only. It was a large space, with added plastic chairs at the back. Tourists were abundant and several families were taking their portraits together in front of the very elaborate altar. Arriving late, we stood. Some of the women were still in lace headgear, like we used when I was a child, and people exhibited enthusiastic devotion, with one woman prostrating herself on the ground, and kissing the floor. Enthusiasm.
I took something to be worked on to a sewing machine we saw in the front of a store nearby, attached to an elderly man named Roberto. Lovely man – he promised my dress and purse repair for Saturday. Saturday came- he couldn’t find the items. Come back tomorrow, I’ll have them done. No rush, sez me. Tomorrow became today, and Roberto now can find the items, but they haven’t been done. Try me later, sez R. Tomorrow, perhaps? Ahhhh – the relaxing pace of life in the town of Puerto Vallarta.
Another detail – lots of the folks who are here from Canada and the US have been coming here for years. Twenty years seems to be a common number. People love this place. It’s like a home place that is friendly and welcoming. We met a couple from Boulder we knew at the Starbucks, to prove a point.
I mentioned how every square foot of sidewalk is a store of some kind- here are two of the many.
A week from now, we will be in our next airBnB. Will it be better, worse, or across the board the same? Anticipation begins just about the time I am comfortable where I am! There is Roberto, after all, and mucho, mucho mas.
For now, Judy, Judith and Grand grandmother.