'To think is free,' the poster cartoon character thinks.  Which is a good insight, but what if I did not know those few Spanish words?  Could I guess what he is thinking?  Or would the journey on which I encountered this poster have been a little less interesting because of not knowing? 

Barefoot, walking down the beach, there was a lot of driftwood, large pieces of boughs and trunks, with surfaces that were shiny, polished by the sun and sea and the gentle sandblast from the onshore wind. Shells, too, were scattered there, of course, including this one.  What struck me was how much alike they look, despite very different origins.  One comes from the sea where a living thing built a shell to keep water out, and the other stood on land where this living thing built a trunk to keep water in.  Here their 'bones' coincide for a while on this beach where I happen upon them, and I notice that they look like different parts of the same thing.  But then, maybe we all are.

Sometimes the senses can offer paths that lead back to a remembered moment that has a unique cultural texture. Fragrances often have this quality, and for me this is especially true of copal, which is a resin-based incense.  It's smoke envelops you in history due to its ancient origins and ceremonial traditions in Mexico and its neighbors to the south.   

The photos are from the Quetzalcoatl Prayer for Peace Walk, which brought thousands of participants together in Mexico City.  Many in the procession carried censers with burning copal, blanketing the Zócalo with its distinctive scent.  Other marchers banged drums, played flutes, or blew conch shells as others scattered flower petals. The procession encircled the immense plaza, then spiraled in, the participants gathering at the huge central flagpole for the prayer ceremony.

The experience of this gathering always will be as near as a whiff of copal for anyone who was there. Some additional photos of the event can be found here.

During one of our first journeys in Mexico, I was reminded many times of things I had read about the lack of punctuality there.  Here's a sample:

"Mexicans have many traits to admire: their enterprise, their ability to make do, to endure and to enjoy life. Punctuality, though, is nowhere on the list for most of them. The Aztecs may have cared enough about time to carve their famous stone calendar, but you wonder sometimes if people here are relying on it to get through the day.

from a mural by Diego Rivera

"It's not personal. They're always late with everybody: with the judge, with the priest, with their wedding, with their mother, with their father," said Guadalupe Loaeza, a well-known author and columnist, who arrived late for an interview in her own living room. "It's something we cannot help."

source

 True to our expectations from reading such things, virtually everything happened late.  We waited at the car rental office for half an hour before the owner arrived.  The museums opened late.  It got to be so anticipated that we started arriving half an hour later than we normally would. 

One evening there was a concert in the park, and when we arrived hardly anyone was there.  We could choose almost any bench to sit on.  I watched it unfold with building frustration, how casually the people arrived to set up the stage. How unhurried they were in their work even well after the scheduled start time. 

Finally an hour had passed since the advertised start time and I was restless.  Just then someone walked out on stage to welcome everyone and begin the concert.

What I learned the next day was that we were in a different time zone than I thought, and my watch was an hour fast.  I know that today this would not happen with the phone / GPS connected time sources, but this was then.  I thought back on all the times I had us arrive early for everything and how impatient I had grown with them, when really it was my own mistake.  Which is not to deny that different time sensibilities exist among various cultures.  But I do need to start with my own!

For some photos from a recent journey to Mexico click: more

famous for their salty string cheese and smoky mezcal, markets in Oaxaca also offer intense, rustic chocolates and baskets of spicy grasshoppers, among many other delghts.  one of my favorite discoveries is in the heaping basket left of center in the photo.  it is jamaica, dried red flowers of hibiscus or sorrel for making delicious tea.

these markets feed all the senses, including curiosity!

Portugal has a history of world exploration, but is itself a fascinating place to explore. In Lisboa, sidewalk geometric patterns vary from street to street, adding visual intrigue to wandering the vibrant neighborhoods

additional Lisbon moments:

http://just1m.blogspot.com/2010/02/nucleo-arqueologico-moment.html

http://just1m.blogspot.com/2009/10/elevador-da-gloria-some-cars-need-wash.html

with so much shared, and so many dependencies, including the systems that support our lives, the spaces we inhabit, and the cultures we participate in, how do we establish our identities as individuals?

is the poetry of motion

moon-drawn tides carrying

wind-shaped waves

the sands of earth receive

cursive lines written by the elements:

the infinite variations of change

a story without words:

have you ever wondered what you were buying?

and were so glad for it?

mainly it is food.  a street vendor, a shop, an outdoor market.  you need it, they sell it.  but you don't recognize anything.  you don't speak or read their language and they don't speak yours.  so it is a guess, a leap of faith.  whatever you choose, it will bring a new experience.  and new experience is the leading edge of life.