oaxaca nights

after finding a hotel -- suitably close to the "neuróticos anónimos" society, headed off the the zócalo, for a spot of coffee and people-watching.

the rain started falling, as usual, instantly. as if someone up above just turns a tap and leaves it running for a while, to clear the pipes of the day´s detritus.

a group of men run across the zócalo like a herd of wild horses, laughing and jumping in the rain, direction unknown. children come from their hideaways, selling umbrellas instantly sourced from god-knows-where.

i read my book, and wonder, as ever, if there were hidden intentions in the suggestion i read it. like when "are you ready to be heartbroken" was the first song to play in a tape borrowed long time ago...and my, wasn´t i not ready.

the rain abates. i run back to the hotel for rainproof clothing. fancy going to the cinema nearby, but find the latest showing is unsuitable for nice girls, consisting, as it does, of "nice girls" being "nice" itself. no wonder the sweet drugstore asistant giggled and blushed when i asked him for directions!

deprived of cultural activities, i wondered around, in the drizzle. unconcerned. this town is perfect for suarezes and plesters, i decide. every other shop, a shoe shop. every other corner, a hot dog cart. and what hot dogs! wrapped in bacon, covered in cheese, served with onions, salsa, mole...he´d be in heaven.

myself i settle for a lovely tiny stall, and get tostadas de pollo. a little girl watches me, smiles and plays with the bottle tops of millions of refresco bottles. i used to do that once ago. sit, play, smile. simple things.