Fairing far better

After a day of resting and struggling to keep down Korean soup from Xena, I feel far better. Harry and I had traditional jewish xmas dinner of chinese food and watched movies all night. An okay flick by Tarantino called "Deathproof" and a movie with Sean Connery called "League of Extraordinary Gentleman."

Today I woke up feeling like a million pesos. I got my atm card back, no problem. Then Harry, Xena and I went to the Museo Don Quixote. Just as wonderful the second time, if not better. I saw more of Don Q and Sancho. The Don and sidekick on eggs large and small; on an ostrich egg and on breakfast. Glass quijotes, brass quijotes. Quijotes scrabbled and scrambled. Quijote on a leaf and a prayer. Quijote of chess, of smoke and ash. Also a correction. In my previous blog, I mistakenly noted of Quixote fighting power lines. It was actually Don Q fighting oil towers, entitled "Quixote globalizado." The artist was Silvia Barbesco. A more apt demon to fight, a more apropos windmill to chase. Symbolic of the windmills of our day and age.

There were two passages from the patron of the museum that were very moving:
-"Sometimes the sand of the beath Turns into the plain of La Mancha and I see Don Quixote and Sancho Panza As if they were real characters. I touch them, I hear them, they are with us. Cervantes made them immortal. Oh! Real the Quixote, its so peaceful! Read it at the concentration camp. As a minute hand of human hours, As a place to discover ideals that jusyify the craziness of the genius, to get back the control to reason."

"Undoubtedly, Cervantes created his characters to keep them alive through his readers.. The epitath couldn´t be more illustrative than the one that the creator dedicated to Don Quixote: "Nor in his death could Death prevail." This lesson make us travel among windmills to Creptina and Montiel, to the plains of La Mancha and to the high Sierra Madres.

We would live to turn barbed wires into holm oak and holm oaks into spear shafts"
-Eulalio Ferrer Rodriguez (Museum donor)

Subtracted from his concentration camp diary om Barcares, France July 12 & 16, 1939

After the museum, we went to the beautiful Teatro Juarez and enjoyed the Moorish interior of the fine theater. The swirling patterns and bulbs radiated beauty.

After, we sat on the steps as Xena was sidekick to a clown, who stole kisses from her. We parted company as Xena went to the market and Harry and I went to Diego Rivera´s boyhood home. It was good but nothing incredible compared to all we had seen of the artist. After, we had lunch in the market. Caldo de Pollo for moi (chicken soup, the Jews do it better) and carne asada for Harry. We stocked up for dinner, and grabbed to more cigar treats. We enjoyed the luxuries on the roof, washed down with a Bohemia obscura. Life at its best, as I had a Bolivar to Harry´s Montecristo. We reflected on our journey and shared a moment of quality.

I left Harry to read while I met up with Swiss miss that I had met two days prior. We had coffee and crepes and wandered around town, and in the subterranean world of Guanajuato. Subterranean blues for me, as the swiss miss had a swiss mister. A swiss kiss goodbye would be the extent of my luck. Now off to Monterrey and back to Houston to end our fair journey to La Mancha.