Christmas Day was spent with my church family, which is basically anyone who is hanging the parish at the time. In this case it was the regulars who I spend my Sunday afternoons with and about 60 strangers. Jessica and I had decided to hold a free dinner open to anyone (the way churches in the States have dinners for the homeless) despite not being sure if there was a need for it as we were told even the worst off people around here spend holidays with their families. However, we spent the weeks leading up to Christmas handing out invitations to friends, the elderly, vendors, along with alcoholics and children on the streets who seemed neglected.
As Padre promised to cook for the dinner, I wanted a lot of people to show up since I didn`t want his efforts to go to waste. At the same time, I didn`t want to people to show up because they would mean they had nowhere else to go.
I spent Christmas morning cutting fruit for dessert and then arrived just before it was time to start serving the meal of corn tostadas, beans and chicken. I was so busy handing out food that I didn`t have time to think about where all the people where coming from. As it turned out, Father had announced the meals at the morning masses, but really it didn`t matter if the people were needy from the streets or just liked the idea of eating in Church.
The rest of the day was pretty similar to how I would spend Christmas in the United States. I washed a lot of dishes, attended Mass and participated in a few toasts. Jessica and I opened the presents from our families that we had been hiding from each other for the past few months and ate lots of chocolate.
Normally, I try to be somewhat reflective in this blog, but since it`s holiday season I`m going to give myself some time off. All the best in the New Year to everyone!
Monday, December 29, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Christmas Eve
I spent many of my childhood Saturdays in my neighbor Deana's house watching TV in her parents' bedroom. The bed was soft and big, the room cream-colored, and it felt special to eat potato chips between the sheets, look at her mother Fran's clothes and spritz on her perfume. It was almost like being home except without the burdens of being at home (i.e, parents and chores) and since her parents had to work, we felt grown-up being on our own. Mostly, I was comfortable and welcome there and looking back, that's what made it special since it really wasn't so different from my own house.
Twenty years later, Deana and I found ourselves sharing a queen-sized bed again. I was visiting my sister in San Francisco and Deana drove up from Los Angeles to spend the weekend with us. This time we became children again as tagged along with my niece to story hour and her playdate, gossiped about boys and were treated to meals by my sister and her husband. Talking on the phone with Fran, Deana said how relaxed she felt there and her mother replied ''that's because you are with family.''
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Last week was my first Christmas away from my family and one of the girls from the parish, Martha, invited us to spend Christmas Eve with her family. I was a little nervous as to how I'd fit in with everyone because of the language thing and lifestyle differences, but early Wednesday morning, Martha, Jessica and I took bus, metro and van to a small town outside of Mexico City, but still in Mexico state.
The town was similar to Santa Fe in that it was filled with run-down buildings but it felt much more isolated as it lacked busy roads and contained more roosters. The three of us trekked up to Martha's home where her Mother was waiting along with Martha's teen-aged brother Arturo and niece Brenda. Immediately, she asked us what we wanted to eat and all of the 'kids' set out to buy groceries. Brenda alternated between holding my and Jess's hands as we bought street food, eggs and freshly-squeezed juice, and looked at the store with the parrot in it.
Though the family lives the way many people in Santa Fe lives--without things like heat, a living room, toilets that flush on their own and carpets --I was somewhat surprised by their poverty because Martha is always well-dressed and put-together. What they lacked materially they made up for in kindness as Jessica and I were sent to the parents' room to watch TV and sleep while they others set about preparing for dinner.
After our maps, the kids made another trek to a Wal-Mart like store filled with late Christmas shoppers. Martha quizzed us all on our favorite foods and what we wanted as presents, her little brother made jokes and gamely pushed the shopping cart and I bought Brenda a small music box that she liked listening to. Later on, when I gave it to her, she insisted that she couldn't keep it, and I was finally able to convince her that it was for her and her mother to share.
We went to 9:00 Mass--along with the whole town, it seemed. For some reason, many people brought baby dolls representing the baby Jesus as some sort of walk with them was supposed to take place. However, an hour I felt suffocated from standing surrounded by people and stepped out to get water. Brenda happened to be feeling sick as well and was outside with Martha, and Martha ordered me, Christian and Brenda to go home.
So I found myself spending Christmas Eve in a parents' bedroom with a little girl, just like I was a child again. The kids showed me their English books, I practiced the language with Christian and Brenda told me ''te quieres mucho.'' At 11:30, when everyone else came home, we had a meal of pozole (traditional soup made with corn and chicken) and ponche, though Martha made vegetables for me.
The whole day was simple and relaxing, but special because we were easily accepted by everybody and they didn't need to change their lifestyles for us. Thousands of miles away from home, I found neighbors again, ones who felt like family.
Twenty years later, Deana and I found ourselves sharing a queen-sized bed again. I was visiting my sister in San Francisco and Deana drove up from Los Angeles to spend the weekend with us. This time we became children again as tagged along with my niece to story hour and her playdate, gossiped about boys and were treated to meals by my sister and her husband. Talking on the phone with Fran, Deana said how relaxed she felt there and her mother replied ''that's because you are with family.''
--------------------------------------------------------------
Last week was my first Christmas away from my family and one of the girls from the parish, Martha, invited us to spend Christmas Eve with her family. I was a little nervous as to how I'd fit in with everyone because of the language thing and lifestyle differences, but early Wednesday morning, Martha, Jessica and I took bus, metro and van to a small town outside of Mexico City, but still in Mexico state.
The town was similar to Santa Fe in that it was filled with run-down buildings but it felt much more isolated as it lacked busy roads and contained more roosters. The three of us trekked up to Martha's home where her Mother was waiting along with Martha's teen-aged brother Arturo and niece Brenda. Immediately, she asked us what we wanted to eat and all of the 'kids' set out to buy groceries. Brenda alternated between holding my and Jess's hands as we bought street food, eggs and freshly-squeezed juice, and looked at the store with the parrot in it.
Though the family lives the way many people in Santa Fe lives--without things like heat, a living room, toilets that flush on their own and carpets --I was somewhat surprised by their poverty because Martha is always well-dressed and put-together. What they lacked materially they made up for in kindness as Jessica and I were sent to the parents' room to watch TV and sleep while they others set about preparing for dinner.
After our maps, the kids made another trek to a Wal-Mart like store filled with late Christmas shoppers. Martha quizzed us all on our favorite foods and what we wanted as presents, her little brother made jokes and gamely pushed the shopping cart and I bought Brenda a small music box that she liked listening to. Later on, when I gave it to her, she insisted that she couldn't keep it, and I was finally able to convince her that it was for her and her mother to share.
We went to 9:00 Mass--along with the whole town, it seemed. For some reason, many people brought baby dolls representing the baby Jesus as some sort of walk with them was supposed to take place. However, an hour I felt suffocated from standing surrounded by people and stepped out to get water. Brenda happened to be feeling sick as well and was outside with Martha, and Martha ordered me, Christian and Brenda to go home.
So I found myself spending Christmas Eve in a parents' bedroom with a little girl, just like I was a child again. The kids showed me their English books, I practiced the language with Christian and Brenda told me ''te quieres mucho.'' At 11:30, when everyone else came home, we had a meal of pozole (traditional soup made with corn and chicken) and ponche, though Martha made vegetables for me.
The whole day was simple and relaxing, but special because we were easily accepted by everybody and they didn't need to change their lifestyles for us. Thousands of miles away from home, I found neighbors again, ones who felt like family.
Monday, December 15, 2008
So this is Christmas...
Like many people in the United States, I correlate the beginning of the holiday season with the appearance of Santa Claus at Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Here in Santa Fe, I knew that the holidays were upon us at the parish, the Sunday before Thanksgiving, when I saw a live turkey being brought to a pen. Jessica and I were planning a Thanksgiving dinner and Padre Salvador had promised to provide the main course. What we didn't realize is that it would be brought to us live.
The turkey was named Conche, meaning shell, and during his last days he was allowed to roam about and was played with by parish members. Lupita made a plea for his life, Guillito got a kick out of showing him a big, sharp knife, and David gleefully told me and gestured that soon Conche would be slaughtered.
The day before Thanksgiving, Padre Salvador took him aside and told him it was time to fulfill his life's duty. Conche bowed his head, and then Father blessed him and slit his throat. After Padre cleaned him, Jessica spent the day stuffing, sewing and cooking him.
As a vegetarian, I wanted no part in all of it, so I mostly avoided the church that week. Everything I have reported is second-hand (or third-hand) as it was told and translated to me by Jessica. Despite its squeamy start, Thanksgiving Day turned out to be much more pleasant. A few girlfriends came over and helped Jessica and me cook a meal for about thirty people.
It seemed daunting that so many people were to show up in our small house but it was manageable as guests brought dishes and came in intervals. Our party begin at 6:00 and by 8:00, only about fifteen people had showed up, and I thought that would be it. As it turned out, twenty-five more people would show up throughout the night, and I spent much of the evening hurrying to prepare food dishes, trying to salvage meat from a poorly carved turkey and rounding up utensils and plates. Like at Halloween, celebrating Thanksgiving abroad made me feel ultra-American, as usually my own Turkey Day feasts are much more mellow.
Of course in the United States, come 10:00 the living room furniture isn't pushed aside for a congo line, salsa dancing and line dancing as it was for our party. Guests at the house included parish staff members, Javier and his friends and members of Jess's Bible study class. The latest to arrive was Padre, with a priest friend, and they were the among the last to leave as they sipped tequila and watche the dancing. While the setting and the guest list was quite different from parties I have been to in the United States, I was privy to certain romantic entaglements regarding people at the church and Javier's friends, and seeing those who paired up and those who looked on jealously made me feel as if I was back attending a house party in States.
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The next morning brought a radical change of scenery as my sister Cathy had invited me to spend a long weekend in Ixtapa at a beach resort. I took off early in the morning (leaving Jessica quite a mess to clean up) in order to go to the airport. I was somewhat nervous while waiting for my flight, as it was my first time doing something big without the aide of a Spanish speaker. I managed to catch the flight, which in only 45 minutes brought me away from chilly Santa Fe and into a tropical setting.
I met up with my sister and her family and friends at the tiny airport and we were shuttled to Club Med. The dilapidated buildings leading up to the resort reminded me of Santa Fe, while the resort was located on the edge of the beach and elaborately decorated. Meals there are all-you-can-eat, there are several open bars and friendly staff members talk with guests all day (in English!), encouraging to participate in activities such as volleyball, yoga and archery.
I felt a little conflicted before going as I am in Mexico to serve and learn from the poor, who don't have the option of going to a resort. However, a break from everything in Santa Fe was definitely rejuvenating and it helped me to reconnect with the world again by being around so many people that I could talk too.
Most importantly, I was able to see my family, particularly my niece Josie. She is speaking much more than when I saw her a few months ago and definitely likes things her way. While my instincts were to hold her and pick her up, the way I would with children at work, she likes to either be with her parents, play with her friend Taj, or follow around ''big girls'' around the age of seven. While I hate that I probably won't be able to see her much for the next two days, I am reminding myself that she won't really remember me not being around and I can use technology to stay abreast of what's happening with her.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I returned to MexicoCity rested and relaxed, ready for the holiday season now upon everyone. The First Sunday of Advent took place while I was gone, and that meant that lights were hung and street vendors had begun selling Christmas decorations and ponche, a fruit punch made with sugar cane.
Jessica and I decided to buy a Christmas tree so Julio, one of the parish staff members, took us to the biggest market in Mexico City which has additionally been turned into a Christmas market. Mexican markets are always a chaotic experience with vendors shouting prices and offering samples and people hurrying about trying to find the best deals. Since this mercado is the city's biggest, the experience was particularly overwhelming as it must of covered two square miles of land was mobbed with people.
I mostly just tried to keep up with Julio and Jessica as they bartered to buy lights and other decorations. Frustratingly, we managed to find a Christmas tree (Christmas trees aren't hard to get in Mexico, but we wanted a small, potted one to keep all year round) but decided it was too big to carry on the metro.
Jessica had warned me that to be careful because the market is in a dangerous area of town. It wasn't until fruit seller noticed a tear in my big, black bag that I really took her seriously. Apparently, without me noticing it, someone used a razor blade to slash my bag. If it wasn't for the fact that my wallet had been on the other side of my bag, it would have been easily been stolen. It was disconcerting how close someone had a weapon to me, without me even noticing it.
Overall, the Christmas market was exhausting and kind of scary. Though it may be much cheaper to buy goods there, the overall hassle wasn't worth the price savings and I hope that was my last trip there.
Still, Jess and I wanted a tree. During a Christmas brunch in San Angel that we were invited too held by the Associates of the Sisters of the Incarnate Word, we asked if anyone knew of any places to buy a tree in the tony suburb. Two women we had only met that day ended up driving us around to several spots and walking with us on our hunt. We ended up finding a small, potted, lemony-smelling yellowish pine tree that we brought hom by taxi, which we strrung with lights and decorated with ornaments. The kindness showed to us by almost strangers made up for the bad experience at the market.
A few days later, at the Saturday market up the street from our house, we noticed a man selling several trees that looked like ours, and one much bigger and greener for only two dollars more than the one we bought. Jess bemoaned our lives, but I told her to be happy with arbolita (little tree) and he has been bringing us lots of joy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Christmas isn't the only reason that things have felt festive around here. December 12 was the Feast of the Virgen of Guadalupe, a day commemorating the Virgin Mary's appearance to Juan Diego in 1531.
While I associate the Virgin with peace, her holiday brought chaos to the city. Fireworks were everywhere during the days leading up to and on her feast day and I was irritated by the constant noise and nervous for the children setting them off in the streets. Additionally, cars started honking during random intervals, somehow in her honor, and I felt like the Grinch of Guadalupe as the sounds made me wish I was a missionary in some remote place without automobiles.
For two days, I couldn't go anywhere without running into a Mass. On Thursday night, I attended an outdoor Mass along with Jess's Bible class at a roadside shrine to the Virgin. Then, I joined a 30-minute procession during which a statue of the Virgin was carried along while being stopped at random Mary shrines in the street. After we returned to the original spot, men and women took turns running beneath the Virgin's veil while a mariachi band played and the family hosting the event passed out tamales (cornmeal served in husks, spicy or sweet) and ponche.
At work the next day, a group of 12 year-old students visited. From what I could gather, they were all in a beauty class and wanted to comb the hair of, dress and paint the nails of the girls. When they finished, I was struggling to suggest activities to do with the residents, who the students eyed nervously, when Sister told me to begin taking everyone outside for Mass. At a shrine to Mary I had passed the previous night, the nuns, staff members and older residents gathered for a Church service in the Virgin's honor. Again, it wasn't too relaxing as I worried about faulty brakes on the wheelchairs and one women was so upset by fireworks that she started screaming uncontrollably. Overall, the resident enjoyed the experience (and tamales at the end) and the home was filled with visiting students, which brought a lot of good energy to the grounds.
My final Mass was at a chapel on a hill, which our friend Royal brought us to on Friday night. The church was named for the Virgen and is located on about an hour away from Santa Fe on a big hill from which you can see the lights of Mexico City. The church was built over the last few decades and its modernness reminded me of home, as most churches around here are in Renaissance style.
A salsa band played behind the church after Mass and different booths sold tamales, corn, hamburgers, and liquor. The main feature of the evening was the fact that a castle was to be lit on the fire.
Though I was confused when I heard this, it turns out the the castle was a tower-like barbed wire structure on which their were wire models of a things like a star, moon, and a rooster. Fireworks were set off , over our heads, causing different items on the tower to be lit. Finally, the top of the tower was brightened, and it was, of course, the Virgin Mary. Aside from the fireworks being a violation of American safety codes, it was a fun evening that finally made me appreciate the Feast Day.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The warm weather makes it hard for me to believe that Christmas is actually coming, and while I appreciate the sun, being away for the holidays is definitely making me homesick. I miss different places where I have lived--sometimes the warm air will remind of California and make me long to be there for the season with my sister. I also miss the snow and shopping malls of Pittsburgh, but mostly I'll walk by Christmas decorations and think of Washington, DC and wish I could be there to see the White House tree, attend parties with my friends and (thinking ahead) be there for the excitement of Inauguration. I am trying to remind myself to stay in the moment here and enjoy all the parties and different festivities, because some day Santa Fe will be one of the cities I find myself missing.
The turkey was named Conche, meaning shell, and during his last days he was allowed to roam about and was played with by parish members. Lupita made a plea for his life, Guillito got a kick out of showing him a big, sharp knife, and David gleefully told me and gestured that soon Conche would be slaughtered.
The day before Thanksgiving, Padre Salvador took him aside and told him it was time to fulfill his life's duty. Conche bowed his head, and then Father blessed him and slit his throat. After Padre cleaned him, Jessica spent the day stuffing, sewing and cooking him.
As a vegetarian, I wanted no part in all of it, so I mostly avoided the church that week. Everything I have reported is second-hand (or third-hand) as it was told and translated to me by Jessica. Despite its squeamy start, Thanksgiving Day turned out to be much more pleasant. A few girlfriends came over and helped Jessica and me cook a meal for about thirty people.
It seemed daunting that so many people were to show up in our small house but it was manageable as guests brought dishes and came in intervals. Our party begin at 6:00 and by 8:00, only about fifteen people had showed up, and I thought that would be it. As it turned out, twenty-five more people would show up throughout the night, and I spent much of the evening hurrying to prepare food dishes, trying to salvage meat from a poorly carved turkey and rounding up utensils and plates. Like at Halloween, celebrating Thanksgiving abroad made me feel ultra-American, as usually my own Turkey Day feasts are much more mellow.
Of course in the United States, come 10:00 the living room furniture isn't pushed aside for a congo line, salsa dancing and line dancing as it was for our party. Guests at the house included parish staff members, Javier and his friends and members of Jess's Bible study class. The latest to arrive was Padre, with a priest friend, and they were the among the last to leave as they sipped tequila and watche the dancing. While the setting and the guest list was quite different from parties I have been to in the United States, I was privy to certain romantic entaglements regarding people at the church and Javier's friends, and seeing those who paired up and those who looked on jealously made me feel as if I was back attending a house party in States.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next morning brought a radical change of scenery as my sister Cathy had invited me to spend a long weekend in Ixtapa at a beach resort. I took off early in the morning (leaving Jessica quite a mess to clean up) in order to go to the airport. I was somewhat nervous while waiting for my flight, as it was my first time doing something big without the aide of a Spanish speaker. I managed to catch the flight, which in only 45 minutes brought me away from chilly Santa Fe and into a tropical setting.
I met up with my sister and her family and friends at the tiny airport and we were shuttled to Club Med. The dilapidated buildings leading up to the resort reminded me of Santa Fe, while the resort was located on the edge of the beach and elaborately decorated. Meals there are all-you-can-eat, there are several open bars and friendly staff members talk with guests all day (in English!), encouraging to participate in activities such as volleyball, yoga and archery.
I felt a little conflicted before going as I am in Mexico to serve and learn from the poor, who don't have the option of going to a resort. However, a break from everything in Santa Fe was definitely rejuvenating and it helped me to reconnect with the world again by being around so many people that I could talk too.
Most importantly, I was able to see my family, particularly my niece Josie. She is speaking much more than when I saw her a few months ago and definitely likes things her way. While my instincts were to hold her and pick her up, the way I would with children at work, she likes to either be with her parents, play with her friend Taj, or follow around ''big girls'' around the age of seven. While I hate that I probably won't be able to see her much for the next two days, I am reminding myself that she won't really remember me not being around and I can use technology to stay abreast of what's happening with her.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I returned to MexicoCity rested and relaxed, ready for the holiday season now upon everyone. The First Sunday of Advent took place while I was gone, and that meant that lights were hung and street vendors had begun selling Christmas decorations and ponche, a fruit punch made with sugar cane.
Jessica and I decided to buy a Christmas tree so Julio, one of the parish staff members, took us to the biggest market in Mexico City which has additionally been turned into a Christmas market. Mexican markets are always a chaotic experience with vendors shouting prices and offering samples and people hurrying about trying to find the best deals. Since this mercado is the city's biggest, the experience was particularly overwhelming as it must of covered two square miles of land was mobbed with people.
I mostly just tried to keep up with Julio and Jessica as they bartered to buy lights and other decorations. Frustratingly, we managed to find a Christmas tree (Christmas trees aren't hard to get in Mexico, but we wanted a small, potted one to keep all year round) but decided it was too big to carry on the metro.
Jessica had warned me that to be careful because the market is in a dangerous area of town. It wasn't until fruit seller noticed a tear in my big, black bag that I really took her seriously. Apparently, without me noticing it, someone used a razor blade to slash my bag. If it wasn't for the fact that my wallet had been on the other side of my bag, it would have been easily been stolen. It was disconcerting how close someone had a weapon to me, without me even noticing it.
Overall, the Christmas market was exhausting and kind of scary. Though it may be much cheaper to buy goods there, the overall hassle wasn't worth the price savings and I hope that was my last trip there.
Still, Jess and I wanted a tree. During a Christmas brunch in San Angel that we were invited too held by the Associates of the Sisters of the Incarnate Word, we asked if anyone knew of any places to buy a tree in the tony suburb. Two women we had only met that day ended up driving us around to several spots and walking with us on our hunt. We ended up finding a small, potted, lemony-smelling yellowish pine tree that we brought hom by taxi, which we strrung with lights and decorated with ornaments. The kindness showed to us by almost strangers made up for the bad experience at the market.
A few days later, at the Saturday market up the street from our house, we noticed a man selling several trees that looked like ours, and one much bigger and greener for only two dollars more than the one we bought. Jess bemoaned our lives, but I told her to be happy with arbolita (little tree) and he has been bringing us lots of joy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Christmas isn't the only reason that things have felt festive around here. December 12 was the Feast of the Virgen of Guadalupe, a day commemorating the Virgin Mary's appearance to Juan Diego in 1531.
While I associate the Virgin with peace, her holiday brought chaos to the city. Fireworks were everywhere during the days leading up to and on her feast day and I was irritated by the constant noise and nervous for the children setting them off in the streets. Additionally, cars started honking during random intervals, somehow in her honor, and I felt like the Grinch of Guadalupe as the sounds made me wish I was a missionary in some remote place without automobiles.
For two days, I couldn't go anywhere without running into a Mass. On Thursday night, I attended an outdoor Mass along with Jess's Bible class at a roadside shrine to the Virgin. Then, I joined a 30-minute procession during which a statue of the Virgin was carried along while being stopped at random Mary shrines in the street. After we returned to the original spot, men and women took turns running beneath the Virgin's veil while a mariachi band played and the family hosting the event passed out tamales (cornmeal served in husks, spicy or sweet) and ponche.
At work the next day, a group of 12 year-old students visited. From what I could gather, they were all in a beauty class and wanted to comb the hair of, dress and paint the nails of the girls. When they finished, I was struggling to suggest activities to do with the residents, who the students eyed nervously, when Sister told me to begin taking everyone outside for Mass. At a shrine to Mary I had passed the previous night, the nuns, staff members and older residents gathered for a Church service in the Virgin's honor. Again, it wasn't too relaxing as I worried about faulty brakes on the wheelchairs and one women was so upset by fireworks that she started screaming uncontrollably. Overall, the resident enjoyed the experience (and tamales at the end) and the home was filled with visiting students, which brought a lot of good energy to the grounds.
My final Mass was at a chapel on a hill, which our friend Royal brought us to on Friday night. The church was named for the Virgen and is located on about an hour away from Santa Fe on a big hill from which you can see the lights of Mexico City. The church was built over the last few decades and its modernness reminded me of home, as most churches around here are in Renaissance style.
A salsa band played behind the church after Mass and different booths sold tamales, corn, hamburgers, and liquor. The main feature of the evening was the fact that a castle was to be lit on the fire.
Though I was confused when I heard this, it turns out the the castle was a tower-like barbed wire structure on which their were wire models of a things like a star, moon, and a rooster. Fireworks were set off , over our heads, causing different items on the tower to be lit. Finally, the top of the tower was brightened, and it was, of course, the Virgin Mary. Aside from the fireworks being a violation of American safety codes, it was a fun evening that finally made me appreciate the Feast Day.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The warm weather makes it hard for me to believe that Christmas is actually coming, and while I appreciate the sun, being away for the holidays is definitely making me homesick. I miss different places where I have lived--sometimes the warm air will remind of California and make me long to be there for the season with my sister. I also miss the snow and shopping malls of Pittsburgh, but mostly I'll walk by Christmas decorations and think of Washington, DC and wish I could be there to see the White House tree, attend parties with my friends and (thinking ahead) be there for the excitement of Inauguration. I am trying to remind myself to stay in the moment here and enjoy all the parties and different festivities, because some day Santa Fe will be one of the cities I find myself missing.
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