You're Safe, Joseph

When Elizabeth asked me to come to visit her second home in Mexico in order to make an offering on the DAY OF THE DEAD, she stated in her letter that she could only promise a hot shower and good cup of coffee in the morning.

How could I say no.

The small colonial village located on a lake at 7200 feet could be reached by flying to Morelia, a city in Michoacan state, I had never heard off, not being a student of Mexico geography.

Ariving at a nearly empty air terminal after dark the cab driver told me it would be about a one-hour drive to my central city hotel.

The friendly young cab driver, happy to practice is english he learned while living in California, explained that the eerie shadows along buildings were people enjoying the evening as we drove to the city.

Suddenly we arrived:

The four-story atrium-style pink limestone hotel was built around 1650 about the same time the Jamestown settlers were warding of fstarvation. It was surrounded by a plaza of limestone buildings, with wide sidewalks, cafes and shops, across from two city blocks of trees, fountains and sculpture features, complete with lovers sitting on benches enjoying the full moon. Behind stood the second largest domed cathedral in the western hemisphere, with flood lights, defining its intricate sculpture elements.

For the first time in my life it dawned on me,

So this is Colonial Mexico.

I was helped up to my 4th story room and stood looking down at a man playing a piano in the lobby below, and up at stained glass ceiling covering the large open atrium with guest room s all around the perimeter on each , wondering were am I ?

Within minutes after entering my high ceiling room the phone rang.

The unmistakable voice of Elizabeth said,

Don't worry, Joseph. You are safe in Morelia, I will see you in the morning.

Later I walked down the wide ornate marble staircase to the lobby, had 2 tequilas, watched the World Series, then walked outside and around the park and cathedral, finally sitting down on a park bench and witnessed a full eclipse of the moon on my first night in colonial Mexico. This long and eventful day reminded me of a walk I took along the Danube, in the full moon with sculpture shows, beer gardens lighted basketball courts, all filled with people one late night some years before then calling a friend in Oregon and saying a full moon was coming.