The internet is big down here. There is literally an internet cafe on every corner. Some are tiny… a computer tucked into the corner of a stationery store (tienda del papel). Others are more serious. I’m in a fairly nice place with multiple machines, a cafe serving limonada, and even a technician who speaks english. I suspect that the situation will be every country in South America.

Well, as I was writing this, a huge march is passing by. Led by a brightly colored clown, followed by a tambourine troupe, and then a bunch of kids waving flags. Next come a bunch of kids dressed like mimes, passing out brochures telling me this is una Marcha Para Jesús! Next come a gaggle of grandmothers, a bunch of bicyclists, and lots of pickup trucks with loudspeakers. “Jesús Te Ama!” They’re still passing. There goes another group in purple and white, swinging tambourines…

I see things here that remind me of nightmares. I saw a skinny middle-aged guy sitting on the curb literally sucking the gas fumes out of a pickup truck. It must have got him high, and it was very sad to see. I saw another gentleman walking down the street. After taking a glance at him, I had to look again. Both of his feet were turned straight inwards. He walked fine, but it was strange to see.

Like the United States, folks here tend to be separating into the rich and the poor, and the middle class is dwindling. My spanish teacher confirmed this in class a few days ago, and you can see it in the streets. There are people down here with brand-new Jeep Grand Cherokees, which must cost a fortune, given the cost of living down here. Last time I was down here, Dan and I were sitting eating comida [lunch] in the zocalo, when a group of mexicans bicycled in on state-of-the-art, full-suspension Cannondale mountain bikes. They were all wearing brightly-colored spandex outfits, and it was jarring to see them. It was like seeing a bunch of flamingos in the middle of a flock of chickens.

My grandmother died a few days ago. I loved her very much, and I know she always loved me. She always called me ‘mon petit chou’, which translates to ‘my little cabbage’. She’s been suffering with Alzheimer’s, however, for many years, and I feel like she left us several years ago. Gloria Benjamin was a good, caring woman. She was 92.

La Marcha Para Jesús is still going after 1/2 hour. I uppose Jesús helps these people keep going as well.

Ron