A JW Wedding, a Canadian Bar-Tender, and a Nahuatl-Speaking Woman

A wedding on Monday? It had never occurred to me, but perhaps the Jehova's Witnesses keep a really busy agenda with lots of important activities the whole week and Mondays are the only days when they can squeeze in a wedding ceremony at 2 p.m.
A man who never stopped smiling and grinning rendered a speech in which he warned the bride that, at the beginning of the marriage, the husband is likely to make a few wrong decisions, but the wive must never question or criticize this, much less say something like "I told you" -- this is a big no-no. Instead, she is supposed to be very obedient, because they are "the helper and the complement" of her husband.

Once the religious ceremony was over, the buses, taxis and rented "combis" took the people to the celebration that was held at a beautifully decorated garden, with high palm trees surrounding the property. The sky was blue and clear and the weather was just perfect, especially when the sun began to go down. And though no alcoholic beverages were served at the tables, all the guests seemed very happy anyway, especially when the dance began. Yes, they dance cumbias and norteño music just like everybody else, though only on weddings.

Just as I had planned, I dedicated the next to walk around alone, without direction and without a specific plan. I visited some stores, admiring the silver jewelry from Taxco. I bought a chain with a little horse, and couldn't resist to buy a well-sized horse made with shiny abalone shell. At a cyber cafe, I finished a translation and emailed it back to the project manager of the agency that I work for.
The weather was getting very hot, but I was fortunate to come across Zorro's, a corner bar ran by a happy-looking Canadian named Rose.
I had a few beers chatting with Rose and another Canadian couple, and then I continued to walk around. I found an art gallery and met artist Guadalupe Gaytan Santiago, who offers painting lessons to both locals and tourist at a ridiculously affordable price. It was a real pity that Rodolfo had left the day before, because I'm sure he would have learned a lot from her -- he's really talented.
I kept walking and walking until I got to the beach, and then I spent some time watching the ocean, listening to the never-ending sequence of the waves and feeling the hot sand under my feet. I closed my eyes and tried hard to capture the sounds, the smells, and the sensations in my memory. Tired enough, I went back to my hotel.

Wednesday, my last day. I went downtown again for the last minute purchases. I sat on a bench by the wharf, watching the sea. A native woman selling necklaces approached me to offer her merchandise. I wasn't really interested, but when she complained in a sad tone that she hadn't sold a thing the whole morning, I couldn't resist and chose a pair of necklaces. She then sat down by my side, tired of carrying that heavy box and we began to talk a little -- she looked surprised when I pronounced the only words that I could remember in her own mother language: Tehua titlahtoa nahuatl? (Do you speak Nahuatl?), and then she taught me to ask "What's your name" in this language. It was getting late, so I said good-bye to Diana and the streets and shops of Zihuatanejo.
I had a light lunch at Dona Reyna's house, and soon it was time for me to say thank you and good-bye to everyone and head to the airport. It was a very moving moment when they asked me to come back -- I sure will, I said. At the airport, I gave a last hug to Güero and asked him to study hard. "Uncle, are you coming next year when I finish school?", I will, I said, and ran towards the gate.
A few minutes later, the plane took off and I was delighted to watch Playa Larga just beneath, then the Morros del Potosi. I kept watching the vast ocean until it slowly began to disappear in the distance.
The magic of planes - what a wonderful thing it is to wake up in Zihuatanejo, spend a little time at Mexico City's airport and then go to bed at my own home in Monterrey.