Not quite my tempo

The best of times, the worst of times

27 March 2021, 12:20am: No one knows what happened to el vecino gallo, no one knows what happened to Nicolas, the slightly odd Dutch guy who moved in next door and then disappeared in the middle of the night with only a muchos gracias (sic) written on a piece of cardboard. I am now back in Australia. Here I sit, alone in my quarantine hotel, where I have sat for almost 10 days now, with nowhere to go but this pretty nice apartment. If I leave the apartment, I will probably be arrested. They probably can’t put me in prison, because in their mind I am a disease, but that’s a post for another time.

Two weeks ago I was in Mexico, with my love, doing all the “lasts” – the last tacos, the last tres leches cake, the last carne asada with the fancy Sonoran steak, seeing the last colibries and saying my last goodbyes. Maybe if there wasn’t a pandemic, my lasts would have been more exciting. 10 days ago, I said a tearful farewell to my love, Piolo, the separation only made worse by the fact that we don’t know when we will see each other again and by the virtue that we spent so much time together over the last 18 months.

I do!

So, I am now officially off the market, although I have been unofficially off the market for a few years now. I am lucky enough to have met the love of my life. On 1 March 2021, we tied the knot! It wasn’t a romantic ceremony, just a quick signing of the papers, making thumbprints, an old guy taking a few photos we paid him far too much for and bam, we were married. Do I feel any different? No! Will I change my name? Yes! Why? Because I like my husband’s surname. If his surname was Titmarsh I’d probably leave it, but it’s Luna and I like it. Will I double barrel it? Probably, but without the hyphen. One of the highlights of the wedding after party (for me anyway) was definitely the piñatas our friend made us.

As you can see, our piñatas are nacos, they drink Tecate. In a can.

Luna de miel de las Lunas

Mr & Mrs Luna are creatures of habit. If something isn’t broke, don’t fix it (and sometimes if something is broke, don’t fix that either). Our honeymoon was no different. We went to the same condo in San Carlos we went to in November. It’s nice, well priced and on the beach. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!

We eat the same breakfast almost every day!

“Were you rushing or were you dragging?”

Have you ever had those days where you talk about something and then it happens? We were having one of those days. Piolo was talking about Fariseos and he tried to explain them to me. Not ten minutes later, we had stopped for a hot dog and a rest when we heard the sound of a drum. I asked him what it was and he said – “Los Fariseos”. As they got closer, I finally got to see what a Fariseo is! And it’s cooler than anything Piolo explained to me – I think growing up with them all his life, I guess they are meh for him, but not for me.

I’ll try and explain it as best I can, but watch the video for yourself…

WTF?

The basic answer is Catholicism, Mexican style. Mexican Catholicism is different to Roman Catholicism we have in Australia. It’s a combination of Catholicism and indigenous rituals, beliefs and customs. The Fariseos (Pharisees in English) were the people who brought Jesus to the cross for crucifixion.

Every Easter, starting on Ash Wednesday, indigenous men from the Yaqui and Mayo people of Sinaloa and Sonora travel around Sonora for 40 days during Lent, making a sacrifice and asking forgiveness from God.

For 40 days they wear a mask made from goatskin and shirts made of bamboo. They go from town to town dancing and beating the drum for money. This money is used to buy the food they live off for the 40 days. Begging represents evil and frugality.

They are not allowed to speak for 40 days. The role of a Fariseo can be anywhere from 3 years to lifelong during the Lent period. Under the mask they have a rosary cross in their mouth to prevent them falling into temptation.

On Black Saturday (Easter Saturday), the clothes and masks are burned in a fire and flowers are thrown onto the fire to represent reconnection with God.

The Fariseos have to dance for you until you wave them away. If you were feeling particularly psychopathic that day, you could keep them there for hours and say:

Until next time, Mexico!

3 thoughts on “Not quite my tempo

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