In Merida this weekend a donkey and rider will proceed from Parque Sta.Lucia to the main cathedral, re-enacting the entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem. I’ve never seen this event before, so I have no idea what to expect. But I can imagine that truckloads of palm fronds will litter Calle 60. (The procession is scheduled for 8am Sunday morning, to arrive at the cathedral by 8:30 or so.)

As someone who has long lamented the waste of energy associated with harvesting Christmas trees, I have mixed feelings connected with the ecological costs of such cultural practices. But now I’ve been somewhat uplifted by an article in SLATE, here

Sadly, I dropped my camera last week, and it no longer works. I’ve bought another on ebay, but it hasn’t arrived yet. So I won’t have pictures this year. I plan to put up some posts using file images related to the holiday.




  1. My friend Marc, who blogs at An Alaskan in Yucatan, here:
    is also without camera this week. I contributed a comment to his blog, which has yet to appear, so I’ve pasted it here:

    Hi Marc,
    This morning (before reading your blog post about an absent camera) I was scrolling through my image archive, amazed at how rich it is with memories. I came to realize that my own memory is rather feeble when compared to that of digital technology (or film — remember that antique product?).

    Like you, I am without camera, having dropped mine for the first time in my life. And like you, I’ve worked in the field for decades. Noticing how powerful the archive images where to me, I paused and reflected upon the nature of memory, which is masterfully mimicked by digits, but I suspect, falsely. Yes, the self seems to have memory. And I deeply believe we will be allowed to export some memories from this life experience, when we depart. But maybe there will be a strict limit to file size!

    The experience has helped me focus on the events around me in the NOW, rather than attempting to preserve them in such a fugitive container as a brain (if I only had one). Perhaps we’re being weaned.

    An inmate, where I volunteer, at a prison in my hometown up north, taught me a short poem:

    Yesterday is history,
    Tomorrow’s a mystery,
    Today is a gift,
    which is why we call it
    The Present.


  2. Well, the re-enactment was a bit wooden. Jesus and the donkey were icons on a wheeled cart. I was expecting a more lively experience. (I’m told that some Mexican towns have live actors and real donkeys.) But the faces of the expectant crowd were worth showing up to see. I will do it again next year just to see those joyous faces. ~eric.

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