BTW: DF = District Federal = Mexico City
As March 21 is Good Friday, and a high holy day in Mexico, the culmination of Semana Santa or the Mexican Easter holy week. No one works and everywhere around Mexico family members traveled home to be with their loved ones. At a gas station on the way to Oaxaca I met this family that was celebrating Good Friday by playing music loadly and drinking from their cars in the gas station parking lots.
They were very friendly and invited me to drink mezcal and cervesa with them (I declined as I have a hard enough time keeping the wheels of the bike on the road already). Many of the male members of the family had worked in varouse parts of the US, and were curous about what cities I had seen on the way South. In fact, the man with the white shirt holding the beer in his left hand had traveled throughout the US more than most Americans I know, and infact was working in Santa Clara US, but had taken the week off to visit family in his home country. The man in the red shirt, peering over my right shoulder, gave me a prayer necklace (similar to a crucifix, with prayer beads on it, but somehow related to the death of a relative, or so I gather) to keep me safe during my travels. He took it off his neck and placed it around mine, and it was a very touching gesture. The male members of the family would tease me about how I should take their sisters and neices south with me on their motorbike. The women would get angry and scold the men. In all, it was an very friendly group, warm and talkative. I felt like I was at a Burns family reunion.
Parking lot party.
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