I talked about “place” in a previous post.
I encountered such a place yesterday.
My class was relaxed and already busy when I arrived at the conference center.
The buzz of machines mingled with friendly conversation and the smell of fresh coffee added to the atmosphere.
The Bernina technicians were there early offering assistance and advice to those who needed it.
We dyed fabric and created new designs with Drapplique.
The day began and continued through to the end with familiarity and friendly interaction. I was sad to see it end.
New found friends lingered after class and decided to go to the restaurant over the road to extend the ambient atmosphere over salty margaritas and fine Mexican finger food.
Fond farewells and the promise of return were exchanged on the narrow cobblestone pavement outside then Yoli and I walked up the street to meet her Dear Heart.
“I just love this place” she said with pride and I agree wholeheartedly.
The open doors of an antique store beckoned and what turned out to be a small entrance extended into a cavernous adventure.
It was a photo opportunity at every turn and frustratingly my camera was locked away in the car. Yoli and the assistant gave explanation to the rustic pieces and then I spied some small paintings… I had seen some similar in a Museum in Guadalajara. They were hand painted messages to the Madonna of Guadeloupe for her assistance in helping some poor soul. They would have been placed in the church near the Madonna statue to bring favor.
The painting and painted message graphically describes the event that occurred. Milagros (miracle)
More later… I'm about to leave for Mexico city.
Back to ‘Place’
Our walk took us past a building where the opening of a folk art exhibition was taking place. We felt the need to pop into that event. It was incredibly interesting, but the prices were inflated for the Gringos in attendance who could have been in any city in the USA. Middle aged retirees with money to spare. (MARMS)
Coiffed hair, the inevitable draped scarf and expensive shoes and bags.
We left with pamphlets folded in our bags and no intention of returning to purchase. Down the street and round the corner, we came upon another opening, it seems to be the custom for a Friday evenings entertainment..
One of my students spied us from the entrance and escorted us inside. It was an exhibition of portraits…. quite amateurish, reminiscent of Disneyland murals and once again highly inflated prices.
We maneuvered through the MARMS dressed companionably to the people in the previous gallery made a quick exit.
More pamphlets and once again we chatted and smiled at the dismissal of kind we had chosen to execute.
Our friends were waiting, the men took the opportunity to have a quiet drink and chat while we three women decided to examine some beautifully executed antique weaving from Guatemala… I spied a woven scarf…. OOOh, the design and colors were spectacular, however, so was the price so I will think fondly of it resting in the gallery.
Dinner was relaxed and accompanied by a band with the most fascinating members. The saxophone player had to be in his 80’s. His youth still evident in his playing.
The pianist was one of the performers we saw at the Cuban concert the week before. The singer, a refugee from NY with a fashionable grey stubble beard, a classic gravel voice and of past middling years.
The base player added the youth.
Time to take our leave and walk up the cobblestone road to the car. We had only gone a few doors up when Victor said…. “you must see this”
I found myself in a bar, a long angular building that had seen a city of patrons over the years.
On a small stage sat a portly Mexican singer in uniform dress. boots, hat, cowboy shirt and jeans. He was flanked by two life size photos of a beautiful woman in a seductive pose and dwarfed by a large Mexican flag draped from a flagpole near the ceiling.
His guitar looked too small for his large frame, but his voice and guitar skills were brilliant.
I think I smiled for the two hours we remained there… I felt like pinching myself to see if it was all real.
Patrons came and went many of them joining in with the patriotic songs or taking the microphone themselves with varying degrees of musical ability.!!!!!
This day was a “place”