Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
night was
danzón
, a rhythmic, formal dance, a fusion of African and European influences,
which fit the colonial setting.
The maestro waved his baton, the band went silent, then with a stroke the band played
and dancers brought their partners forward. It seemed more like Hemingway's romantic
Cuba than Mexico. Elders danced and the young watched. I asked a couple, "Why aren't
young people dancing?" He answered, “It's difficult. A routine must be followed." Elderly
couples were out in force, and ladies were dressed in Sunday elegance, with smart dancing
shoes.
I took photos of a lively elderly couple, she in silver shoes, he dressed in white and wear-
ing a white Panama hat. Immediately I took my camera across the plaza to the Fujiphoto.
I asked the clerk if they could rush a job. She turned and called, “Fernando.” Fernando
was working at a computer console. He took my camera chip, told me to come around the
counter, inserted the chip into the printer and asked me to point out the pictures on the
computer screen. He centered the couple, cropped the photos then zapped the pictures for
$2. I walked back to the plaza. When the band took a break, I presented the gift to the
surprised couple and told them I enjoyed watching. They graciously accepted the pictures
and showed them to their family.
Light showers threatened. With the first drops of rain, the band members gathered their
instruments, music stands and chairs and looking like a retreating army, moved under the
City Hall archway, the
portales
, which ran the entire length of the building. Once rear-
ranged, the dancing continued until 8 p.m.
The rain stopped. I found a table under the
portales
and ordered dinner. Two mariachis
walked by in green charro outfits, short tight embroidered jackets with filigree and silvered
spangled trousers. I asked where they were playing. "Right here, at your request." I asked
the price and he said, "150 pesos per song."
I thought, "Good price, I can afford a dozen songs." So I lined him up with eleven songs,
wrote them down on a napkin and figured 1650 pesos. The two mariachis walked off to
gather the rest of the band and a female singer. Two trumpets, three violins, two guitars,
a guitarrón (an oversized guitar that plays base), and a singer returned and surrounded my
table. My brain started to recalculate,
"That's a large group for the price." Then it struck me. I was thinking $1.50 per song. I had
accepted an offer of $15 per song, and they would be expecting $165.
