When we docked, a bunch of little kids hopped on and immediately started trying to rummage through my bag for money, asking me for monedo. It had a been a long weekend already (I actually kicked Mason on the ride over because he wouldn't stop running along the wooden boat seats) and I had no interest in my children, or anyone else's. I angrily told them to beat it and then told Sam, "They picked the wrong mom today."
Janitzio is odd. It's full of trash, over run by matted mutts scrounging dockside for food, completely impoverished, and chock a block with souvenirs not yet seen in our Mexican travels: most notably the boob and butt mugs. Bo, not real accustomed to the tacky souvenirs (he's never been to Ocean City) asked, "Aren't these illegal?" I'm not sure who the target market is for the tan ceramic coffee cup with the nipple protruding from the side or the butt cheeks as a handle, but I'm pretty sure it's not the American touring Mexico's colonial towns. Maybe that's why we were the only gringos there.
From our lunch table we could hear music up the walkway so we followed the sound of the mariachis. Outside of a stone church were a couple dozen men in leather jackets and fancy shoes, some sitting on cases of Indio beer. A line of women, all in local dress--long, colorful embroidered skirts, white peasant shirts, flat, black shoes, and blue rebozos around their shoulders--were sitting side by side on a low wall just outside of the church. When you looked carefully you saw each had a bottle of beer between her legs and a tiny ceramic mug in her hand. A group of younger girls appeared in a circle, carrying in the middle above their heads a huge plastic jug of tequila. Each girl held a ribbon coming from the jug so that it looked like a Mayfair pole. A few elders held more tequila with individual cigarettes tied around the bottle, a gift to pass out to the guests. Children stood at the church door with large bags of confetti. The musicians, all playing brass horns--French, tuba, saxophone--had outfits I coveted: black and gold striped pants and a matching jacket with their band name, La Costenita, embroidered on the back.
When the bride and groom stepped out of the church, a second mariachi band started up, the confetti flew, and the drinks guys started passing around the tequila, pouring it into everyone's little mug. The cases of beer were opened and handed out (I was even given one and when I tried to pay for it my money was rejected decidedly. I was, however, to return the empty as they needed the deposit back). The couple stood on the threshold for all to view, and like everyone around them, was completely without emotion. There was not a smile in the crowd. Everyone drank for a while, had a smoke, then marched down the hill, around the corner, and out of sight.