|San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina|
We proceeded to get on board. For us – entering the day of final miracles – no need to unpack again until we leave for home.
Greg found coins that had been carved so as to leave the interesting figures still in the circle of the coin and the rest cut away. If only he were a jewellery wearer. But he couldn’t bring himself to buy one of those, nor lls one of the purses that other men carry. But to give him his due, he happily carries any of Wyona’s bags, often two or more at a time.
At the end of the day the church bells were ringing at the San Telmo Catholic Church. We stopped in to watch a priest dressed in jean light the candles getting ready for the service. Then we headed for the bus, only to be stopped by Spanish music coming from a derelict hacienda. The front courtyard was full of musicians. A sign said, come in, stay, free, the musicians are not being paid so give what you can. At first we watched through the spaces in the high wrought iron fence.
|from a website for One Day Cafe in San Telmo |
Then we could smell the grill where chorizo sausages were grilled, split, and place on buns that were only vehicles to get meat into the mouth.
I would have stayed forever. Greg and Wyona forever and a day. The end of a dream day.