hamburgers on focaccia

Natalie Cole is on the stereo singing, among other things, this wonderful song. It's a lovely evening after a nice sunny day. The Patient requested focaccia, so I rolled up my sleeves and produced a beauty of a specimen. But before I could do anything we had to tear into Tecoman so I could buy some yeast (levadura). Somehow I had managed to run out. The Mexican yeast is really good; I always bring some back to the US for my summer's use.

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. The local church is decorated with lots of fronds gathered from all the local palm trees. There will be elaborate doings at both the church in town and the little one out in the colonia. I remember the Palm Sundays of my boarding school years. Someone would deliver sheaves of razor-sharp palm fronds which we, the boarding students (as opposed to the day students) would then turn into origami-style folded crosses to distribute to Sunday worshipers. I could probable still make them even in my sleep.

Monday signals the official beginning of Semana Santa, Holy Week. In this most Catholic of Catholic countries it has always amazed me that this is the week when, instead of it being a devoutly religious holiday, all hell breaks loose. Pasqua, the week after Easter is a bit more sedate, but not much. There will be little or no sleep at night beginning next Thursday through Sunday, then a break, then more disco until the following Saturday. But the Sunday after Easter it's all over. Until next year.