Julio shouts: “Calenda, calenda, una calenda” to mark the giant dolls he sees on the zocalo. I smile, agreeing it is indeed a calenda, thinking this was how I felt inside when I saw it four blocks before on my way down to the zocalo.
No matter how many calendas come, with their bands marching the whole parade down the pedestrian walkway, I am as delighted as Julio.
shewhodaresnothing 