I wasn't thinking of San Miguel, or Good Friday, earlier tonight as we made our way to Friday night dinner at Cronin & Phelans. But as we walked down the street, we heard music. Loud, solemn music coming from somewhere in the neighborhood, and as we tried to cross 35th street a police officer stood in our way, and then we saw them. Hundreds of people silently moving towards us, walking down the middle of the street with candles in hand, various statues held above their heads--we had walked right into the Procession of the Holy Burial.
We paused for a minute and then turned up 35th, walking on the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the quiet crowd, and I thought of my rooftop perch in San Miguel three years ago, of what was happening in towns all around the world right now. For a few minutes I felt a part of something larger than our little neighborhood, but then we were at the end of the procession, and we turned onto Broadway, back into the noise of Friday night.
|my poor quality photos of San Miguel de Allende, March 2008|