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I’ve been asked about the famed Japanese toilets, so here goes – our limited experience:

  • I don’t know if it expresses some deep-seated cultural priority or is just for the tourists’ sake, but after we disembarked from the plane at Narita Airport in Tokyo, the first thing we saw as we made our way to customs was dozens of ads for toilets – from the Toto company, specifically. They lined the walkway to customs. Priorities!
  • Every toilet we encountered was just a bit different, but they all included the same basic features: the ability to flush varied volumes of water, bidet features – and I use plural there because they included more than one, contoured for the differences in male and female anatomy, and seat warmers. Some included a sound feature – that is, the ability to generate sounds (like nature or even music) to cover up…er…sounds. For all I know, they all included this feature, but I just couldn’t interpret the buttons.
  • So here’s  a tour. This was the toilet in our first hotel room in Tokyo (the Richmond Premiere Oshiage).

 

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The two buttons on the top row are for flushing – the one on the right for less volume, the one on the left for more.

The three buttons below that are for the bidet function, the one on the far right being for women.

And that’s all I can tell you. I’m guessing the buttons on the far right are for temperature regulation of both the seat and the water and maybe pressure. But I didn’t fool with them…I didn’t want to break it!

  • This is the toilet from our Kyoto house. I had to grab a screen shot from a video. It seems to me that the electronic bidet stuff is an add-on to an older toilet here. You can see the buttons on the left side – those are all bidet (you can buy that kind of accessory here, fyi). The tank reminds me of an old-fashioned high tank. You might be able to see that there’s an external faucet – when you flush, the water comes out there and fills the tank – something that greatly confused some of us at first, who thought it was some sort of extra sink. You can see the flusher below it, and it controls the volume of water  – push it to the right, you get less, to the left you get more, and the longer you hold it, the more water you get coming through.

 

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I tragically did not take a photo of the bathroom at our last hotel, but here’s one more from a different place.

The Toto company has a “gallery” of their machines at the Narita Airport. I had thought it was like a showroom where you walk around and see amazing space-age toilets, but it’s actually a restroom to use – men go left, women go right – with separate cubby/rooms. There were only two free when I went, and both the toilets were the same. So here you go:

First, check out the nifty little toddler seat for you to set your kid in so he or she won’t wander while you’re occupied. (There was a changing table, too). I have  video  – of me pointing to the buttons, freak!  – that I’ll put on Instagram in a minute. Okay, here’s that post. 

One more: this was in one of the train stations – Gion-Shijo in Kyoto. It was a “Kid’s Toilet” – like our family restrooms, but more kid-sized, with a stall for privacy.

So there you go – a not-exactly exhaustive look at Japanese toilets. I will say that after experiencing this…we must seem absolutely barbaric in our personal habits…and perhaps we are!

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Friday was going to be a challenge because of the threat of rain. I had been watching the forecasts all week, and both Friday and Saturday looked to be potentially rainy – although I didn’t know what that meant here. Because, you see, in Florida, for example, “rain and thunderstorms” can mean nothing more than something blowing through for fifteen minutes in the late afternoon.

We decided to risk it, packed up our umbrellas (clear because most umbrellas sold and used here are clear plastic) and set out on a little less than one hour journey to the northwest area of Kyoto called Arashiyama. It’s known for a few things – having some older, preserved streets, some interesting shrines and temples (shocking!) and….monkeys.

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Yes, monkeys. We moved from deer yesterday to monkeys today.

The Iwatayama Monkey Park is at the end of a pretty strenuous twenty minute hike up a hill on the river. I was a little concerned because – trying to be culturally sensitive here – Japanese animal facilities are often not run with the same mindset as those you’d find in the United States. Read reviews of Japanese zoos, and what you generally find is post after post expressing shock and dismay at the small cages and lack of stimulation and natural environment.

But this was just fine. As far as I could see the monkeys are free – but they hang around because, you know, people are handing out food all day – and seem content and cared for by staff.

So, ethics stress behind us, let’s enjoy some monkeys!

 

You can purchase apples and peanuts to feed them in a rest house – and that’s the only place you’re allowed to feed them – and the monkeys seem to know it, because outside that area, they don’t approach humans and basically ignore them. You’re warned only not to touch them and not to look them in the eye – they apparently sense that as aggression.

It was very interesting to watch them, and we were lucky because this is spring and spring means babies.

They had interesting behavior around the water. A monkey would sit there and splash with its feet and hands, make all kind of weird gestures, poke its head in, and then just sit back, maybe do it again, and then maybe jump in for a swim eventually. It was like they were getting used to the water, just as we might do.

After that, we went down to the very busy touristy street leading to the river, and headed to the famed Bamboo forest – which was…nice. I mean, it’s pretty in person, but not as haunting as it is in photographs because, of course, you’re there with dozens of your closest friends.

The walk became far more peaceful when we went off on another path, headed to the one temple I thought we’d try to hit – the Otagi-Nenbutsu-ji Temple. It was a lovely walk on paths/streets (because a few cars passed us) that wound up through neighborhoods that were part residential, part historically preserved, and some restaurants. The Temple itself is on a hillside and this is the attraction: 

In 1955, the temple’s fortunes began to change when a new head priest was appointed. His name was Kocho Nishimura and he began the long process of renovating the temple. Kocho Nishimura was not only a priest but an accomplished sculptor of Buddhist statues. He hit on the idea of having visitors carve their own statues for the temple under his guidance. These “rakan” statues, which represent Buddha’s disciples, were all added to the temple between 1981 and 1991, but look much older as they are now fairly covered with moss. Because each statue was carved by a different person, each one is completely unique, and many have humorous expressions or whimsical poses.

 

We caught a bus back into town, did some shopping, got caught in a torrential downpour, had ice cream and beer, then got a train back to our apartment.

 

Right: “Kimono Forest” at the Randen tram station. 

Dinner was a challenge. We are in a part of town that has a rich, interesting history, and is certainly busy enough, but it is not non-Japanese tourist oriented. There are loads of restaurants, but few have English menus and while I can tell the basics about a restaurant from the photographs they have posted and some awkward conversation, the details escape me. So while the boys rested, I wandered around, poking my head into various restaurants, asking for menus, trying to figure out what they had. The problem was – I could, for example, see that this restaurant was a chicken restaurant featuring yakiniku – chicken that you grill yourself tableside. Great. But I would have no idea which chicken part we’re ordering or what comes with it or how much would make sense to order. The online translating apps are not very helpful to me here, perhaps because I don’t know how to use them efficiently, but mostly because in any given moment, I need to know a lot in a short amount of time.

So you know what we did?

img_20180629_203351I discovered, right across the street and around the corner, a Tanzanian restaurant. The sign out front said the chef and proprieter was also an English teacher. We’re in.  And do you know what? It was delightful. The food was excellent – one boy had a chicken pilau, I had a fantastic stew, the other had fried chicken and fried and we all had samosas. And it was such a pleasure and relief to speak English, easily to someone besides my kids. Even after a little more than week – you forget how relaxing it is not to feel lost in translation, constantly.  So thank you, R.M. Asili Cafe and Dining! 

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After a couple of full days here in Tokyo, I’m going to say that I’m very, very glad this AirBnB thing blew up, forcing me to change plans. It certainly wouldn’t have been terrible to have been here the entire time – what with day trips outside the city and so on –  but at this point, I’m going to be glad to get to a location that’s a little more – focused, I guess.

Not that Kyoto is small. No way. But Tokyo is not only massive, both geographically and in terms of population, but it’s…widely dispersed, composed of discrete areas, without a clear center of distinct history and geography (think Chicago’s Michigan Avenue area, for example, for contrast).

(Why? Because – well, frequent earthquakes and fires and, most recently, what the US did to the city during World War II: destroyed most of it in firebombing raids. So there’s not a lot of historical architecture here and the place reflects a history of continual rebuilding.)

It’s amazing, but it’s also a challenge to figure out what to do and where to go for a day – unless you yourself have a clear focus as in, “I’m going to explore anime related things” or “I’m going to find coo fashion.”

But that’s okay for us, because for me, travel is not so much about seeing landmarks anymore as it is in even in a limited way experiencing a different culture and immersing myself and my kids in the very different ways people outside of our bubble live their lives. I am very much content with wandering. It’s a metaphor for my life, so it makes sense that I’m comfortable with it as a travel style. As I keep saying over and over – it’s all new to me – there’s nothing here I’ve seen before – so what does it matter if I see X and not Y today? I’ll experience and learn something new, no matter what, and from that tediously spiritual perspective I tend to have – whatever I experience is what I’m supposed to experience. Don’t plan – prepare. Prepare to encounter life, people, God – whatever – in every moment, where ever you end up.

That said, I think I’m going to be relieved to get to Kyoto, which has a more distinct tourist travel pattern.

Oh, I’m also glad the AirBnB thing fell apart for Tokyo because having been here for all of two days, I can see now that the location of that apartment would not have been optimal. The hotel we’re in is right next to a train station, which is so valuable, I hope I never forget this lesson – how wonderful it is at the end of a long day of walking to emerge from the depths of your last subway journey and look straight at your hotel, knowing that there’s a freshly-made room just waiting for you up seven floors…

So okay—thanks Japanese government. Good deal.

If I’m going to take anything away from this trip, it’s going to be about this Japanese culture of politeness. It’s given me a lot to think about – but I need to experience more of it. I’ll just say that it’s refreshing but also creepy. It clearly sets firm parameters for social interactions, which makes things very clear and easy to navigate. It’s also nice to not live in fear of the seething rage of store cashiers, as one does in Italy – you can give a Japanese cashier any denomination of cash and they won’t blink at whatever amount of change they have to give back to you – unlike in some parts of Europe where they might outright refuse your transaction if it requires them to give up too much change.

But you still walk away thinking…what is this extreme politeness and external cheer blanketing?  And considering the dark and even perverted shadows of Japanese culture, it’s not an unreasonable train of thought.

So to recap:

Our first full day was Saturday. We wandered around the Akasuka district, briefly described here. I was feeling rough by the end of the day – just really tired (and I’m never tired) with a bit of vertigo. I ended up just giving up and going to sleep around nine.

Sunday was better, although I still had some of the vertigo (from the flight, I’m assuming. I’m typing this Monday morning (my time) and seem to be feeling fine now.) The plan for the day, such as it was, was Mass, followed by a request trip way down to some sort of Toyota showcase/attraction that’s located on Tokyo Bay. And go from there. Highlights, interspersed with photos.

  • Mass was at this church, less than a mile from our hotel. I had first planned to walk there, but it was drizzly and by the time we’d discussed what to do, it was really too late to start walking, so we caught a cab – a cab with back doors that opened and shut automatically! I showed the cab driver our destination on the phone, and as he pulled over he said, “Catolica – Catolica?” This is the place!
  • It’s a small church, with mostly older women in the congregation, with a few families. A very, very friendly and welcoming congregation. Of course we are easy to spot as visitors, and right as we walked in the door, a woman asked us if we needed English language materials. They are set up for visitors! The Mass booklet had the Mass parts in four columns: in Japanese pictograph, Japanese in Roman letters, English and Tagalog (they have a substantial Filipino demographic, I guess?). It made it very easy to follow along the Japanese, which was interesting. Everyone sang – there was a young man with a great voice who served as a cantor on the Responsorial Psalm – and there was even one familiar tune – Eat this Bread – not my favorite, but interesting to hear it.
  • I normally can’t stand “let’s welcome our visitors” – but you know what? At the end of Mass in a small congregation, it’s just fine. There were us, some folks from Argentina and some from Costa Rica. They had coffee after Mass, to which we were welcomed, and there had a good conversation with an American, language educator and Tokyo resident for twenty-five years, who had some very helpful tips for us.
  • Go to Mass all the time, go to Mass when you’re traveling – you are always home, in a way.

From that point, we had to take a bus down to this Toyota MegaWeb place. Which took a while, but again, was interesting – we’d been doing trains, so it was time to learn the bus. What I hadn’t realized was that the Toyota facility was part of a large shopping and entertainment district called Odaiba, built on man made islands originally constructed centuries ago for defensive purposes. It was pretty crazy, and we didn’t see half what we could have – the intensity of Japanese shopping and entertainment culture is overwhelming – but:

  • My son enjoyed the Toyota place, which included concept cars and a history garage, but was disappointed because the area where you can ride various vehicles was closed. On a Sunday. Go figure.
  • I know Michael Jackson is popular in various parts of the world, but I guess “Michael Jackson dancing” is a hobby of sorts in Japan? There was some sort of event featuring groups with participants of all ages – from 5-year olds to those probably in their 60’s – doing routines. (v video on Instagram)
  • Okay – one whole area of this Venus Fort shopping mall was devoted to pet goods. Which means that it was overrun with customers with their pets – scads of little dogs, each dressed up, most in carriages, shopping for…more pet clothes? We did peak in one shop selling $4k dogs, too.
  • Now, I would go on a rant about the collapsing Japanese demographic and what irony for these couples to be pushing their carriage with their three stupid expensive fluffy dogs with bows on their heads and jackets on their little bodies while they should have had kids but – I will say that Tokyo is not at all like New York City, where you can walk for blocks without seeing an actual child. There are lots of children, it’s a very child-friendly culture, and I’ve seen many, many family groups with more than one child – some even with three. So perhaps the tide is turning, slowly?
  • We did lunch a Lotteria – a Japanese fast food chain. When eating in a foreign country, I’m not all about the “eat only locally sourced traditional recipes created in secret kitchens in hidden alleyways.” I mean – these are Japanese chains, filled with Japanese families – if I’m going to see how this works, why not? The food was fine – the interesting point being that a meal (or “set” as they call it here) includes not only your sandwich, drink and fries, but a fried chicken piece as well.
  • Gundam – these robots are incredibly popular. There’s a “Gundam Base” store in the Diverse City Mall – the biggest theme store of any I’ve ever seen. I’m still not sure what this is – a show? A building system? Both? Shrugs. But the store was packed and out in front of the mall was a huge Gundam – world renowned – that, we read, “transforms” several times a day. We would not have headed there specifically to see that, but it was happening right around the time we arrived, so why not? Let’s jut say…it was underwhelming. Basically, the two horns on top of the head move to form one. Or vice versa – I can’t remember. It was funny, because there were a lot of people gathered around to watch, and the Is that all there is to it? was palpable – in any language.
  • As is the case everywhere, it seems, there is an arcade – a huge arcade, thunderingly loud, pulsing, bright, crowded. And what’s super-popular here are claw machines. Dozens of them in every arcade, from smaller ones where you grab trinkets to those featuring big plush toys, to….everything else.

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  • After a bit of exploring of the mall and a detour over to a massive auto supply store called Autobacs, we got back on the train and headed to Shibuyu – one of the more well-known neighborhoods of Tokyo. You might have heard of the famed “Shibuyu crossing” – a very busy crossing where, at light changes, thousands of people cross the road at once. Just look up photos and videos for a bird’s eye view. We crossed a couple of times, and it was something to be part of a crowd that big moving energetically in one direction. We didn’t get a bird’s eye view, though, which we’d hoped to – they say to do so from the Starbucks on one corner, but it was clear that Starbucks has worked it so you have to purchase something on the first floor in order to access the stairs to the second, where you can see – and there was a line, so it wasn’t worth it to us.
  • Took a photo at the famed Hachiko statue:

This Akita dog came to Shibuya Station everyday to meet his master, a professor, returning from work. After the professor died in 1925, Hachikō continued to come to the station daily until his own death nearly 10 years later. The story became legend and a small statue was erected in the dog’s memory in front of Shibuya Station. 

We walked around a bit, went to a few stores – I had wanted to check out Tokyu Hands, but was under – or perhaps over- whelmed, and ended up just wanting to move on – and then the massive food court in the basement of the Tokyu department store right next to the station. These Tokyo department store food areas are turning out to be one of my favorite aspects of the city. The variety and quality of goods is just so fascinating. And yes, we saw some of the famed stupidly expensive Japanese produce. Do people actually buy $100 melons? Do they?

 

(Currency conversion tip – to convert yen to USD, basically cut off two zeros. That will get you close enough. See what I mean?”

Shibuyu is grittier and more chaotic than what we’ve been experiencing in Tokyo – and more tourist-oriented – so it ended up not holding much interest for me. Back on the train, and back to our own Tokyo Skytree area, which is busy, too, but not as chaotic.

Spent some time in the mall across the way – Pokemon, nanoblocks, and various interesting Japanese goods, expensive and cheap – and then dinner.

Excellent!

 

It was a different sort of travel day, but one dedicated to satisfying one traveler’s interest (in car-related things), figuring out more of the city and see local families doing their local Sunday thing…

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Perhaps you recall this year’s Baby Robin drama…

It began when I noticed a nest being constructed between a downspout and an eave.

 

Soon, the robins had laid their eggs, and just a couple of weeks ago,  they hatched.

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We watched them the best we could – we of course didn’t want to disturb them, but even if we did, the parents were vigilant guards, perching on nearby branches and wires whenever we came near, squawking repeatedly and even swooping down towards us if it all became too much.

A week and a half ago, we checked on the babies on Sunday evening, and saw their little heads.

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Monday morning:

Carnage:

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What made it even sadder was that the parents were still around, perched, chirping, squawking and swooping. You have to wonder – what did they “think” – if anything?

I thought that was the end of it. I left the nest on the ground for the moment, intending to take it up later. Before I could do anything with it, the yard guys came and just put it back up atop the downspout.

Nice, I thought. But why?

The next day, I noticed that the parents were flying around with grass in their beaks – they were rebuilding the nest.

And now, a few days later – look at that.

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They’re trying again. I had no idea that would happen.We will probably be in Japan  by the time they hatch – but depending on when that is (they say 12-14 days) – we might be back for part of the infancy, although my daughter will certainly be here and can keep us posted.

I just hope the hawk has moved on to other parts of the neighborhood….

(Six years ago, in our previous house, we had a fantastic view of the entire process, as robins built a nest on a window ledge. Here’s a post summarizing what we were privileged to witness.)

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My mother grew up in Maine. Born in New Hampshire, but grew up in Maine.  The aunt and uncle who raised her lived there (in Sanford, in case there are any small-world moments waiting to happen out there) and for all of my childhood, a month every summer was spent in that lovely little spot of southern Maine.

My best friend there was named Lesa. (spelling is correct, btw). She lived across the field lying between my great-uncle’s house and her family’s, and was the only girl in a family of about 6 or 7 boys – that is until her little sister was born when she was around 13, I think. Very French-Canadian family, her grandparents barely spoke English. Being an only child, I was always mildly stunned after being with them for a while, alternately taken aback and entranced by the energy, the earthiness, and things that were so odd to me – like making a whole meal out of nothing but ears and ears of fresh corn.

Her oldest brother was probably about ten years older than she was (and she was a year older than I). He was a pretty dashing guy, although if you’d asked me at the time, I would have confessed that I thought he had a rather strange name.

“Nobbit,” they called him.

Nobbit graduated from college. Nobbit was a ski instructor in the winters. Nobbit was coming home.

Nobbit?

What kind of name was that, I wondered..for years.

Until one day, as an adult, I happened upon…

St. Norbert.

Well, theyah ya go.

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— 1 —

We’re back! Life has slipped and tumbled back into the normal paradigm: school, sort-of-homeschooling (Hey, there was a lot  of learning that happened in Mexico, wasn’t there?), work, music….etc.

— 2 —

Here’s a post I pulled together with links to all the entries on the trip to Mexico, with some thoughts on safety and links to our accommodations. It’s called I went to Mexico and didn’t die

—3–

This coming Sunday is, of course, Divine Mercy Sunday. St. Faustina is in the Loyola Kids Book of Heroes. Here’s a page:

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–4–

In case you didn’t know it (er…I didn’t) – the Feast of the Annunciation is being celebrated on Monday – (because the actual date fell on Palm Sunday)  You can download a free pdf of my Mary and the Christian Life at this page (scroll down a bit). If you want to spring .99 for a Kindle e-reader copy, go here. 

And hey – with First Communion/Confirmation/Mother’s Day/Graduation season coming up – check out my books for gifts! 

–5 —

From Atlas Obscura – I’d never heard of this – it sounds similar to our local Ave Maria Grotto. The grace in the found object. 

Brother Bronislaus Luszcz, a native of Poland, spent 23 years building this collection of large grottos. He used local Missouri tiff rock to create beautiful statues and mosaics freckled with found and donated objects like seashells and costume jewelry. He began the work in 1937, though the seeds of his endeavor were planted long before.

While Brother Bronislaus was growing up in Poland, he would watch as pilgrims trekked through his home village on their way to a shrine for the Virgin Mary. The memory of the pilgrims lingered in his mind even after he moved to the United States and inspired him to begin constructing his own shrine. 

–6–

In an era in which the only movies that seem to make it to the screen are remakes and comic book-based…you read a tale like this and you wonder…why not this story? Wouldn’t this be a fantastic movie – or even television series? Let’s do lunch and make it happen!

She zoomed over forlorn dusty roads, responding to the beckoning call of new adventures. The airborne sensation and the freedom of the road ensured that she climbed on her trusty Harley-Davidson time and time again. Long before the hashtag #CarefreeBlackGirl was coined, Bessie Stringfield was living her life freely on her own terms—riding her motorcycle across the United States solo.

Born in 1911, Stringfield got her first motorcycle, a 1928 Indian Scout, while she was still in her teens and taught herself how to ride it. As chronicled in the 1993 book Hear Me Roar: Women, Motorcycles and the Rapture of the Road by Stringfield’s protégé and eventual biographer Ann Ferrar, at the age of 19, young Stringfield flipped a penny onto a map of the US then ventured out on her bike alone. Interstate highways didn’t yet exist at the time, but the rough, unpaved roads didn’t deter her. In 1930, she became the first Black woman to ride a motorcycle in every one of the connected 48 states—a solo cross-country ride she undertook eight times during her lifetime. But not even that satisfied her wanderlust. Eventually, she went abroad to Haiti, Brazil, and parts of Europe.

And you just wonder….how many other stories are there?

And the answer…one for every person. 

At least. 

–7–

It’s Easter Season! Below are related excerpts from our favorite vintage 7th grade Catholic textbook, part of the Christ-Life Series in Religion . The first is about the season in general, the second about next Sunday (before it became Divine Mercy Sunday, of course).

What I like about these – and why I share them with you – is that they challenge the assumption that before Vatican II, Catholicism offered nothing but legalistic rules-based externals to its adherents, particularly the young. Obviously not so

I also appreciate the assumption of maturity and spiritual responsibility. Remember, this is a 7th grade textbook, which means it was for twelve and thirteen-year olds at most. A child reading this was encouraged to think of him or herself, not as a customer to be placated or attracted, but as a member of the Body of Christ – a full member who can experience deep joy, peace and has a mission.

For more Quick Takes, visit This Ain’t the Lyceum!

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And finally…it’s Easter. Sunday morning, rise and shine.

My body was worn out, but functional. I roused every one about nine and had them clean themselves, dress and pack. We’d be heading to ten o’clock Mass at the Cathedral, then returning to the hotel for any last necessities, checking out, and leaving our bags at the desk for the afternoon.

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Easter morning view from the hotel room. 

Our flight back home was early Monday morning. I had a room reserved at the Mexico City Airport Marriott Courtyard for the night. Good buses run from Puebla directly to the airport all day, so I knew that there was no need to reserve any tickets. Shooting for a general time frame would work just fine, so that’s what we did, the time frame being 4-ish – which would get us to the hotel by seven at the latest, we hoped. And ten hours later, up and out and on the plane home.

The zocalo (town piazza or square) was not as busy as on former days (yet), but there were magazine vendors setting up who hadn’t been there before. As I mentioned, the Cathedral was celebrating Mass every hour most of the day – wander in and you’d hit something guaranteed.

We slipped in a side pew just as Mass was beginning, the final strains of Pescadores de Hombres fading as we did so. The celebrant was, I’m presuming, of the archdioceses’ auxiliary bishops. It was an Easter Sunday Mass, with organ and small choir and the same stellar cantor who had sung on Thursday and, even though I couldn’t see him, I’m sure, at the Vigil. The only disappointing and honestly puzzling point was that the cantor led the Responsorial Psalm and continued to stand at the side, which led me to believe he was prepping to sing the Easter Sequence…but no. It was simply recited by some old guy. Why???? It’s so haunting, beautiful and expressive – and this fellow with the wonderful voice was standing right there! Why??

After checking out and stashing our luggage, we…as we do…wandered. Food was consumed – churros (excellent and fresh – there was always a line at the place around the corner), street tacos, the famous local cemita sandwich and street quesadillas and probably some ice cream. We shopped, not only for souvenirs – including candy at Puebla’s famed Street of Sweets –  but for clothes and shoes (as I was told, everything was open) as well. As I’ve said, the cost of living here is so low, it’s crazy how inexpensive even good shoes are.

 

Behind the Cathedral is the “House of Culture” which houses, among other spaces and institutions, the oldest public library in North America, the Palafaxiona Library.

When, in 1646 the bishop of Puebla, Juan de Palafox y Mendoza, donated a rich and select personal library of 5,000 volumes to the Tridentine College, he thought of the formation of the clergy, but also of the society of the city of Puebla. He therefore established, also, that anyone who could read was to be allowed inside this magnificent library. As a seminary library, it was also a library with a broad range for reading, one not limited to knowledge about God and his church, but to the study of all that might occur to the pen of man, and in order that man might have strong arguments to defend the faith.

By 1773, then Bishop of Puebla, Francisco Fabián y Fuero, established the principal nave of the Palafoxiana Library at 43 meters in length such that the population would have access to the collection of Bishop Palafox. The bishop also had two floors of fine shelves built in fine ayacahuite, coloyote and cedar.

The collection increased with donations from the bishops Manuel Fernández de Santa Cruz and Francisco Pablo Vázquez, and by the inclusion of the library of the Jesuit College. Today, some 45,059 volumes dating from the 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th centuries coexist with a few from the 20th century.

Those darn obscurantist Catholics, up to their repressive tricks once more!

 I had determined it was open, so it seemed like a visit would be a quick, painless dip into culture – but wait – there’s more!

As we climbed the steps on our way to what we thought was the museum, we encountered an exhibit – an exhibit of devotional statues that had, at one time or another, been on display in the Cathedral. (Don’t worry – it hasn’t been wreckovated – there is plenty of art still there in every nook and cranny. It’s just that over five centuries, you collect a lot.) It was free admission, so we walked through and took some time with the emotionally expressive, finely wrought work. I was especially intrigued with the back of this Christ the King – that hair……

We were on our way to the library when we heard music, and discovered, down in the courtyard a floor below us, a dance performance happening in front of a large, appreciative crowd. Video is on this Instagram post.

On to the library, which involved a slow walk through – probably quite boring for some, but absorbing for me. Libraries are that way in general, but to be surrounded by centuries of exploring, meditation, research, creativity and pondering, hand-written, laboriously printed, carefully preserved – is humbling.

And so….quick version of the rest of the day:

Retrieved luggage. Got an Uber to the bus station. Arrived at bus station (different from our arrival station – this is the one for the airport buses) – tickets available on a bus in 45 minutes, purchased tickets, sat and waited.

Even though the station was busy, the experience was less confusing – there were fewer IMG_20180401_163516.jpgbuses leaving, so it was clearer which was ours. As we did before, we checked our luggage, went through security and then boarded – getting our promised first class snack – A WATER AND A MUFFIN – this time. Although this time, the movie screen wasn’t working – the bus driver even stopped the bus about fifteen minutes out, came back, took out a panel from the ceiling, fiddled around, squinted at the screen, shrugged, returned to the front and kept on driving – screen dark, but we did have wi-fi.

The bus dropped us off at Terminal 1, the originating terminal for most international flights (Inter-Mexico flights as well as Delta fly from Terminal 2) and the location of our hotel. I am so glad we stayed at the airport. Our flight was at 7 am, and I can’t imagine how more miserable we’d have been if we’d stayed any distance away. We ate dinner at the hotel restaurant, which was unnecessary, as we discovered afterwards when we walked to see how far we’d have to go in the morning – we could have just turned a couple of corners and eaten our choice of fast food at a third of the price (this was most expensive meal we had in Mexico…)…ah, well!

Departure was painless. I was glad we flew Southwest – the departure lines in the morning were non-existent there while the other airline counters were crowded, even at 6 am. Hobby Airport in Houston has an almost completely automated immigration system – US citizens didn’t even have to fill out customs forms – and the re-entry experience was a breeze. Back on the ground in Alabama by 12:30, in the Chick-Fil-A drive through by 1.

Success!

Come back in the next couple of days for a summary post and Deep Thoughts. 

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