catching my breath

We've moved on to other exotic places and had new adventures since I last blogged, and I'm still trying to catch up, but before I go on to new stories, I need to finish with Mexico. I have many beautiful pictures of tranquil turquoise ocean and sunny beaches (a feature noticably missing from our next adventure), but what often moves my heart whenever I travel are the kids I run into. And this little guy is just one such kid.

We happened to be in Cozumel during Carnival, and went into town for the Fat Tuesday parade. This was not your typical, lethargic, Fourth of July type of parade. It is held after dark, with all the floats moving down the street in time with the pounding Latin beat of huge loud speaker systems on the back of each one. Every float was an explosion of glitter and sequins and lights and feathers. Between the floats were dance groups of every variety from scantilly clad, beautiful, young women to little kids to men's groups to seventy-something women. All of them samba-ing and swaying and getting down the road. I completely loved how all ages were out, dressed up, and dancing in the streets obviously having the time of their lives. You just don't see much of that in our culture, especially without things getting lewd and crude. At the sides of the parade route were vendors hawking foods (many of which we could not identify) and beer and balloons and every kind of sparkling trinket. Many of the littlest kids were dressed in elaborate costumes. There were one-year old Carmen Mirandas, fairies, butterflies, one family of tikes who were the whole cast of Wizard of Oz, and a tiny bullfighter baby who was indescribably cute. But the kid who got my attention was my little buddy in the photo. This kid was a hurricane in silver sequin. He was up, down, around and back again, all with a gleam in his eye that you could just tell was utter mischieviousness. He saw me trying to take his picture, and stood still just long enough to stick his tongue out at me. This spunky little spitfire made me laugh and laugh. His mother, whose hand you see reaching out to snag the little dude, looked pretty worn out. The night was great, whirling, sparkling fun.