Orange is the new black. Tlalpan, Mexico city. This post is for our friends in the North, caught in the drab of winter. Endless nights and shortest days. When light is dim and colours fade into grey. Here is a palet of colours for you. Hang on. Spring will come. Mary in Blue. Tlalpan. Shadow…
Welcome! Welcome! Try our 65 Pesos menu! The Day of the Dead on November 2nd is possibly one of the oldest and strongest traditions in Mexico. I believe (no evidence) that it comes from the Chinese Ghost month, when ghosts and spirits, long-gone ancestors come back from the netherworld. In the Chinese tradition, shrines are…
The Day of the Dead. November 2nd. “Are you ready to dance?” Dance the night away. One, two. One, two… One, two, Three. Day… And night… La Dance Macabre… Dance, dance, dance… Turn, turn, turn… “Thank you for dancing with me… Until next time…” My heartfelt thanks to the Ollin Yollintizi dance company…
“Good night stories for rebel girls”. Tlalpan, Mexico city. National Cancer Institute. (C)ourtesy Alex who’s a doctor there. 🙂 Dali expo, Historic centre, Mexico city. In the garden. (For the photo; those are normally kept inside) “Selling typewriters.” 2018. Seriously. Nights of Acapulco… A new series: “Beers of the world”. (And it’s 4.8% alcohol, not…
Scotty is still on holiday, fishing in Scotland around 1896, with Dr Watson, not quite sure whether with John or Joan. In Scotty’s stead, Mr Spock is at the helm. “Spock, ready for some fun?” “Define ‘fun’, Sir?” “Never mind, Spock. Above: procession last Sunday in Tlalpan, a street away from the house. (C)ourtesy AMO.…
Previously on Equinoxio: The Time shuttle was attacked in Xochicalco by Jaguar and Eagle warriors. Scotty said: “I can handle it. I’ll beam you to San Angel, the Saturday’s bazar, South of Mexico city. You will just have to walk your way back.” We were greeted by the charming Catalina above. Unarmed. “And the eye…
“Standard deviation, Scotty? I bet this was suggested by Mr. Spock?” “Aye, Sir, it was. The above is an 18th century pirate on Fisherman’s wharf, San Francisco. Plus or minus two centuries. Sir.” “Right. Ready to jump everyone? Jump!” “El globo”. Passion for pastry. Mexico. 2018. 11th century. Normand warrior bidding Adieu to his Lady…
Another voyage in space and time. (Not again?!) A quick nap. Casa de las campanas. House of bells. Tlalpan. 2017. (I liked the previous colour better.) The eyebrow workshop. Paris. 2015. Maasaï warriors. Amboseli National Park, Kenya. 1967. Chinelos dancers. Two weeks ago, literally around the corner of our house. There are many traditional dances…
An old dilapidated 19th century house at the end of an unkempt garden. The door was open. To an uncanny display. I was expecting yet another series of altars to the dead such as the one above. Or an offering of corn, arranged on volcanic earth, framed by flowers. (Stage right) Or, stage left, a…
Fluttering eyelashes… Stage right. Stage left. Altar to the dead. The small skulls above tend to be in sugar. And often bear the names of the living. A freshly built oven. To cook “el pan de muertos”, the bread of the dead: Altars often display photographs of the departed. The old lady on top is…
Equinoxio 