We have had a wonderful holiday week. We went to a fiesta in honor of a friend's nieta's First Communion, we went to a New Year's Eve party across the street, and we went to a New Year's Day party at a friend's in Coatepec.
I don't usually talk about friends on the blog -- it seems a bit like an invasion of privacy. But just a bit this time because somehow the events of the week felt truly joyful in the midst of all the bad news racing around the world.
The first communion party was up in Xico. We had beef steamed in hoja santa (what it's called in San Antonio, a plant with giant heart-shaped faintly anise-tasting leaves) and some other spices. And stuffed jalapeños and beans and rice and orange soda and Fresca mixed with brandy which is really delicious. AND tres leches cake and little cups of gelatina which are a tradition.
Our hostess and friend is a woman of our age. Her husband died from complications of diabetes a year ago, and the previous event we'd gone to was a Rosario for him a few weeks ago. The rosary was said six or seven times over the course of several days at her house. We went one early evening. Darkness fell as twenty or twenty five people joined together on the large patio of our friend's house. Candle light brightened as the sun went down. Incense wafted through the air. The priest led the people in chant and response, intimate and mysterious.
And then the first communion party. All these ceremonies feel right to me, marking death and life, decay and growth. I miss going to church, being borne along by these comings together, these events which pull us into the larger flow of things.
Our friend's house is large and has lots of different houses within it because some of her seven daughters and I think a son live there, too. The Communion party, or our part of it, was held in what was originally a garage, a large one, painted bright orange for the celebration, sunny, inviting. A giant poster on the far wall was covered with congratulations and messages of love and Walt Disney figures drawn by hand. Two tables ran down the length of the garage set with white tablecloths. Two of our friend's daughters brought food out as guests arrived. As is the custom, people kind of come and go over the course of the afternoon. We sat with our friend, a daughter we know better than the others and her fiancé and her fiancé's family.
At some point a small man in a sports shirt and slacks and glasses and a rather odd manner came in and sat on the far side of Jim. No one knew him, but he got fed anyway without question including two servings of tres leches cake. He did a lot of talking to Jim who didn't understand him at all, not because he doesn't understand any Spanish but because the man's speech was oddly garbled.
When we got up to go, this little man got up, too, and followed us out. He kept insisting we should give him a ride. We were very leery about doing this, but he wasn't about to back off. I started to go back inside for advice when our friend's daughter, her fiancé, and his parents came rushing out to save us.
"Don't let him in your car," they said, pulling us towards them. "He is very strange." We devised a plot: we would get into our car and tell him we had to follow our friends out of town and we had to leave in a hurry. But in the end, the little man gave up with some grace and waved goodbye.
The fiancé and his father thought he was gay and unbalanced as well and had come in because he thought Jim was so handsome. I think Jim is, too. I was glad I got to ride with him! Jim didn't think he was gay, just unbalanced. Who knows.
Anyway, all's well that ends well and this did.
Here is a picture of some of the children going after the piñata just outside the party.
And here is a picture of the beautiful girl whose First Communion it was.