In la Finca Gavillan there is ancient cinaro (Myrtaceae) tree that stands in an open field. The trunk splits at the base, spreading outward and running parallel to the ground before the branches rise up, covered in bird-like bromeliads, towards the sky. The branches are not round but elongate, thick but not wide and have the camouflage color of American Sycamore (Platanus occidentalis). The centuries old tree was a location for a wedding.
Early on Friday when I asked when the ceremony was to start, I was told 11:00, but it did not start until well after 1:00 p.m. The ceremony was for Laura and David who stood in front of the tree while Lea and 8 year-old Isabella, perched above and giggling throughout the event, tossed flower petals from above. While David spoke elegantly of his love for Laura, Lea and Isabella took aim, striking Laura repeatedly in the nose and eliciting a burst of laughter from the bride. David, confused, would look over momentarily and continue his devotional elucidations. When the short, "anarchistic", ceremony ended, we feasted on quiche and accouterment and the Tía Triad (Meme, Mari, Berta) sang song after song curled on a blanket with Lea and Laura.
Since the wedding my existence has been very domestic, especially with Isabella staying here. We dance in the evenings to Swing, latin and a whole slue of traditional music. The day consists of various adventures (and, of course, Cooking) around the house. The best of which may be our great search for fruit around the perimeter. Isabella, Lea, and I walked for well over an hour yesterday with a large stick swinging it wildly (depending on who held it) at Guava, Banana, Nispero Japones, and Oranges. Our fun was literally dampened by a lengthy rain that lasted through the evening. There was little else to do than curl up with hot chocolate and watch a movie, which we did, staying up til 1 a.m. to finish.
In my domestic existence, I have not talked of politics; I do not know if the U.S. has finally fallen from the fiscal cliff; I am not sure half the time what is even going on, but this morning as we prepare to head to Mérida, I can only relish these last few days and hope that this happiness can last beyond the end of holidays.
Frase Del Día: "Algo me se fue por el camino viejo". Pietro Stagno taught me this as i coughed on the second floor the the Mercado Principal in Mérida. The market is four floors of venders selling hundreds of fruits, dried and fresh, head scratchers, guns with barrels carved to look like a penis, restaurants and more. I was coughing because I had recently eaten a fig (Higo) that had moved upward into my nasal passage. Pietro told me, David confirmed that it was no lie, that when food migrates in such a fashion one would say "Algo me se fue por el camino viejo" or "Something I ate has taken the old path out."
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