jugglers... and a half million other things, pretending to be pirates. benign pirates. *really*.

Around now twenty four hours ago I was at the cultural center waiting for a show by some jugglers to start. It was pretty good, singing-dancing-acrobats... really makes one feel kind of talentless but that wasn't what they were trying to say so I won't let myself think that. Really.
They're going to do another show in La Paz, I'm not sure when, just thought you ought to know, in case you're in town.

stoplight... what's that?

We now have a working stoplight.
It must be a miracle!
It came back on yesterday afternoon. So apparently magic is not characterized by lack of stoplights and car crashes (not lack thereof).

last night

Last night was the last night of the Todos Santos Art Festival Number Ten but I didn't go.

Also The Bulldozer has been painted, pale pale blue with a scene of waving desert grass on the blade and pale purple mountains on the sides. It was painted by Michelle, creatoress of the cows in party hats.

all or nothing

Tre Galline's pizza place is open.

Estrella

On the night of the 3rd, of the first day of the Todos Santos Art Festival (number 10! Can you believe it? It's been around almost as long as I have!) a lady who calls herself Estrella sang. She - well, if you're used to live people and kids trying desperately to shove their cell phones close enough to get a piece, a tiny piece, of this wonderful young lady with the nice voice to keep for ever and ever on their memory card, then to you she'd be nothing special, but. Wow.
When someone asked someone else who she was, the other person replied that "she's, oh, popular, but not very popular, not too popular in the Capital and the Mainland, they can't get anyone really big to come out here, you know." Well, their loss.
This continues the tradition of bringing down a singer for the festival. I wonder who it will be next year?...

today is the day of the day of the day of the first day of the art festival

Swarms and flocks and gaggles of tourists are, well, swarming and flocking and gaggling to ts and taking all the parking spaces (will it ever end!) to see the art festival, which is very nice, yes, 3rd-10th, but might not be quite what they expected. How we love to startle tourists... The town is a very nice town, don't get me wrong, but some (no naming names. No blaming blames. The world isn't a perfect place though.) come here, sometimes from the Cabos, and they're like, "what!" because it's not every now and then a mexican, you see it's every now and then a us person and not just mexicans in white coats serving them, real mexicans, real people, and then you realize it's not a game and it wasn't built up just for you and swept clean just for you and if you try to make a difference we'll laugh behind our hands at the silly, silly doogooder gringo and life will just continue on the way it always was, there will just be one more thing for all the people with cell phones to gossip about, because they were here before you heard of them, of us, and we're staying, but you probably aren't, you aren't Todos Santos material.

But we are, or we were stuck here because we were brought down as minors, or we're in the school system and gossiping behind our wide-eyed stares at the newest gringo trying to explain to the teachers that in the US... In the US! How we've grown accustomed to hating those words, we "ex-pats" and the children that tagged along with them and were grudgingly accepted - it means that not in a million years will you be Todos Santos material, because you won't let go. You have to abandon your news or you're stuck crying like a fallen baby bird, "home, home!" only you're saying "in the US, in the US...". And none of us are listening.

I'm off to the art festival now.

Well.

Do I have a lot to tell you? I suppose I must, mustn't I? For some reason I can't remember any of it.

Sure, El C is out online and in paper. We got the shipment at 5:30 am today. But I know that there must be something else important or at least interesting, but I can't think of what. Oh well.

I'm at Galeria On-ce, in dad's office, as I am quite a lot. The sky is clear, though it was raining raining raining for, approximately, most of the time my grandmother was here.

And then it stopped.

Because this blog is supposed to be news I don't feel like I can post what I please, but, oh well, I suppose I am, anyway, right now.

So. How was that?

Well. This is awkward.

So I'm just going to post this already.

Rain. Dany's cooking class. More rain. Buena Vida, is the name. Mud. Clear skies. Bad roads. Iguanas. What next?

SO!

It's been cloudy and hazy and everything for the last two weeks, but today, you can see the sky and a lot of it! I'm getting ahead of meself though...

• Last two weeks: Cloudy, hazy, drizzly.
  
  
• Thursday: The head chef of the Hotel California, Dany Lamote's cooking class debuts with delicious results. Some of the leftovers were in Dad and I's breakfast frittata, in fact.
  
  
• Friday: Most sane people don't go to school due to rain - who's going to walk through soup? Rain continues nostop through day. I have to put my backpack in a plastic bag to put it in the back of Dad's pickup.
  Dad and I get a pizza to go at Buena Vida, which is what the name of Jessie's place turned out to be. The atmosphere was wonderful and many people were sheltering from the cold water sprinkling, bucketing or dripping down, and the sticky mud rising up. Even the Copes were there, because Michael* would get rained on while he cooked at La Copa - wait, I didn't tell you about that either? Gods above and below! Well, he's cooking at the La Copa wine bar Wednesday Thursday and Friday.
  
  
• Saturday - in other words, today -: Clear skies! Dios mio, really? I thought it would never happen!
  The problem is, the water wore holes in
  -Paved roads
  -Dirt roads
  so there's potholes, potholes EVERYWHERE. I am NOT KIDDING.
  
  
• Also at La Iguana there's reggae(-ton? I'm not sure) music on Friday and Norte~no (there's supposed to be an ~ n there but I'm to lazy to open up Word and type one and paste it in and deal with the attached annoying tags) (northern) music on Saturday. I have yet to go :(.
  

*Does the name sound farmiliar? He's the author of Howard and Michael and a great cook and painter. (He may sound farmiliar for other reasons if you are Pat or Lane Cope or Eric Ochoa, etc. I'm just listing a couple reasons!