Early on the morning of Good Friday, we hear the sound of singing from the roof. The processions, which occur in many Mexican towns, mark this sorrowful, Catholic holiday.
Jesus being whipped. I believe they stop 12 times for each station of the cross.
En route to Amatlán de Quetzalcóatl. Love the conflicting symbolism.
Quick transfer in the indigenous/touristic town of Tepotzlán.
We arrive to Doña Graciela's home to a delicious meal. Mmm... mole de camarones, papas y romeritos.
Graciela's grandson and one of the pups.
What a violet kitchen! The bay leaves in the corner are burnt for luck.
Doña Graciela and the silly, smiling American.
Walking around Amatlán...
La gente de maíz (the people of corn).
Quetzalcóatl, Nahua deity born in Amatlán.
Three of Graciela's grandchildren.
My new boyfriend, Pinto.