O my soul. I was awoken before dawn by fireworks. Louder than usual, maybe it was gunshots nearby. At dawn I heard the procession in the streets. I'd heard about this day; the beginning of a 9 day pilgrimige to San Juan where thousands of Mexican Indians walk to give thanks to their patron saint of healing. At dawn the drumming began. I went up onto the rooftop and watched the most beautiful sight I have ever had the honor to witness. They were dressed in white and other celebratory dresses I could not decipher from my post and they were dancing like two waves from opposite shores, in a weaving, back and forth motion while a lone male voice sang out a nasal sounding hauntingly beautiful chant-like song. I looked out over the city with it’s lights in the cathedrals and spires and saw the sky turned pinkish. And then they were gone like a dream. I heard my neighbors downstairs getting ready to leave for a road trip to a nearby village and I went out and asked them what was happening. They said, did you see it? They were down on the streets watching. Oh my heart, when I came upstairs hon the kitchen table was a small cake and a beautiful little satchel in which they’d left me a bracelet of translucent grape like beads. I am closer to home than I have ever been in this life. These are my kind of people.