The leaf player

Patti and I had an amazing meeting yesterday.  We were visiting Santa Ana to see the grand neo-Gothic Cathedral and the other handsome buildings - theater and city hall - surrounding the parque central.  Seemed the cathedral wasn't going to be open for another half hour, so we sat in the parque, enjoying the people and the trees.  Along came this señor, clearly a Barcelona fan, who began to make some pretty amazing sounds with the aid of nothing more than a single leaf that he held in his mouth and breath and no doubt some years of practice.  Sounded a bit like a soprano saxophone, said Patti, and he was definitely tuneful.  Sadly my iPod Touch needed recharging or I might have tried to capture the sound. 

A few minutes later the doors of the cathedral opened and we all went in to pray (and in our case, to look about as well).  Our leaf player went in too, to say the rosary.  There's one man who knows how to make a joyful sound to the Lord!  Alleluia!

The more things change...

The more things change, the more they stay the same.  I wouldn't generally agree with that somewhat cynical proverb, but, alas, it's proving true of the disco next door. 

We've had a lovely stretch of peaceful, quiet nights, even on the weekends.  The disco's owner was in San Salvador with his mother for a long time as she recovered from being shot in early December, and then the word came that the whole family had decided to emigrate, I suppose to the United States.  And the disco stayed dark and blessedly quiet.

But today I walked past the door and there was a big sign advertising a Saturday night discoteque, to begin at 9 PM en adelante - from 9 PM on.  Sure enough, it's different music and different voices, but the disco is going again, and I'm about to put on headphones and listen to the next installment of West Wing.

I will just hope it's only going to be Saturday nights, and than en adelante will end before 2 AM. 

On the other hand, if I'd been in Seattle, I'd have been spending the week buried in snowdrifts, en adelante.

Dog days

In winter, the rainy season (going on right now), we rely on the rain to cut the heat and bring in some natural air cooling, like the swamp coolers I remember from my Albuquerque days. But for the past couple of days, it hasn't rained here in Suchitoto - thunderstorms all around us, but only heat and more heat, humidity and higher humidity here. Over at the Centro Arte para la Paz, Peggy's Luna did what any sensible dog would do in this heat - found the coolest spot on the tile floor and put as much of herself in contact with it as possible. Don't think I haven't considered it!

But I found a better antidote to the heat and humidity of these dog days in the harp music floating out into the courtyard. Wendy is here on one of her regular visits from Ontario, and she was teaching her students a few new songs and techniques. It must be the power of music, but they all look radiant and cooler than cucumbers. A concert's planned for next weekend - Margaret Jane and I will surely be there. Meanwhile, we hope for some rain.

Yesterday, Tomorrow

Yesterday... I almost forgot to post a photo of my friends from Agua Escondida (hidden water - it's the name of a colonia of San Juan Opico) who came for lunch on Sunday and treated me to an amazing concert. I met this great group in 2010, when we had our general medical mission in San Juan Opico. Carmen and Chita, the two singers (their friend Toño is singing with them in the photo), were volunteers during the mission, and the group sang to welcome us and bid us farewell. They've been singing together for 25 years, and sing many of their own songs - Chita has quite a collection of lyrics for any occasion. The instruments and music are traditionally Salvadoran with a lot of punch - I hope to post a video someday when I don't have a mission group coming tomorrow. The three instruments in this photo are, left to right, the requinto, which is tuned higher than a guitar and plays melody; the bijuela, a small guitar, and the bajo, or bass; the two guitars are out of the photo on the right.

Tomorrow, well tomorrow the surgery mission team arrives at the airport at 7:45pm. I didn't iron 10 shirts this time, it's too hot; instead I chose all my iron-free tops, and ironed 3. But still, I'm ready. Primero Dios, may this coming week be a blessing for many.

Music, full moon, night in Suchitoto

Tonight began wonderfully with a light supper at our favorite restaurant, la Villa Balanza, followed by a moving and beautiful cello concert by Götz Teutsch (here's a recent photo), part of the annual International Festival of Art and Culture in Suchitoto. In addition to the concert - two Bach Suites for solo cello sandwiching briefer and wilder contemporary music by Dieter Acker and Bernd Alois Zimmerman - we enjoyed a wine reception hosted by the German Embassy.

A magical evening, and the beauty of it continued as Margaret Jane and I walked home under the full moon, stopping at a local hall to pray with Tina, a woman who's one of the leaders of our local church, at the vigil for her mother, who died at 92.

But when we got home the disco next door started up, and the contrast between the beauty of the cello and the angry, relentless rhythms our neighbor fancies was hard to bear. It's still going on, but I'm listening to music I like better on my iPod, remembering the earlier magic of the night, and staying peaceful.

Birds of the sky, singing

Today at the 5 PM Mass at Santa Lucia, Padre Juan Carlos was reading from Mark: "To what shall we compare the Kingdom of God, or what parable can we use for it?
It is like a mustard seed that, when it is sown in the ground,
is the smallest of all the seeds on the earth.
But once it is sown, it springs up and becomes the largest of plants
and puts forth large branches,
so that the birds of the sky can dwell in its shade."

At that very moment, the setting sun was shining through the west windows, setting the big 4-lobed pillar in front of the altar ablaze, and at that very moment the community of English sparrows that lives in Santa Lucia burst into rapturous song, cheeping and chittering at top voice through the sermon and through the eucharistic prayer. I have to confess that I gave up trying to follow the sermon and contented myself with following the birds as they flipped from pillar to pillar, singing vespers.

As we walked up for communion, the sunset light faded, the birds quieted and settled in for the night, and the service came peacefully to a close. Alleluia, and thanks be to God.

Celebrating the Incarnation

Now that the feast of Santa Lucia has been duly celebrated, we are beginning the celebrations of Navidad in Suchitoto. For the last two nights, Korla and I have joined the community for Las Posadas, part drama, part pilgrimage, and part celebration. For Las Posadas, we gather at the house that was the destination on the previous evening, and all walk together with the priests, singing Christmas carols, carrying candles (which mostly blow out in the December winds) and blowing on pitos (little ceramic whistles which make quite a piercing shriek) to the next house, in another neighborhood. When we get there, the door is opened just a crack, and a long sung drama begins. On behalf of Mary and Joseph (represented by children, along with shepherds and angels), the priest asks for shelter. Those inside sing in reply, first denying entry - and this goes on, back and forth, for quite a while - but finally the "innkeepers" relent and open the door. Mary, Joseph, shepherds, angels, all of us pour in to see the Christmas tree and the nacimiento, and our hosts bring out hot chocolate and cookies.

I'm trying to catch on to the words of the Christmas carols here - some, of course, have familiar tunes, like Silent Night and the Little Drummer Boy. I remember a few from last year, among them my favorite, La Virgen está lavando. As best I understand it, this song tells about the Virgin washing Jesus' diapers in the river and hanging them up on a rosemary shrub while the angels are singing and the rosemary blooms. And the chorus says:

Pero mira como beben los peces en el río
mira como beben por ver a Dios nacido.
Beben y beben y vuelven a beber,
los peces en el río por ver a Dios nacer.

But look how the fish in the river are drinking,
looking how they're drinking to see God newborn.
They drink and they drink and they keep on drinking,
the fish in the river, to see God being born.

Think for a minute about those diapers being washed in the river, and what are the fish drinking with such ecstasy? What a marvellous, and very Latino, image of the fullness of the incarnation. ¡Beben y beben y vuelven a beber!