In the cool of the evening, I was sitting in the Zocalo and wondering how long it had been since the lights for Independence Day were taken down. I hadn’t missed them until tonight. An older gentleman looked at me twice and then sat down. His name is Alberto; he’s from Verracruz, but he lives in Oaxaca alone although one of his sons is also in town. His wife died six years ago, and he is a retired government worker who worked in education and social services. His work was removed from the teachers (and, according to him, all of the mess of 2006). He talked about how Oaxaca was a more beautiful place before 2006. I insisted that it is beautiful now.

He enjoys the music on the Zocalo on Wednesday nights and asked me to be his partner this coming Wednesday, but I insisted that I cannot dance, not now, and that I do not return from teaching until long after the music has started.

He told me he is an umpire for baseball, asked me if I like the game. He said baseball is big in Verracruz; there are three teams. I told him that I saw a nativity scene today that had Jesus and Joseph and Mary and all of the animals, and some baseball players, villagers, and a politician-looking man with a green tie. At first I think he thought my Spanish might be mistaken, but when I showed him the photo he immediately remarked that I had done a good job of describing this odd stable.

Usually the women selling flowers do not bother me when I am alone, but because Alberto and I were sitting side by side, a persistent woman insisted he buy me flowers. I was equally persistent in my efforts to send her away. Alberto, the umpire, made the final call and sent her on her way.