Our regular evening stroll into the Jardin usually lands us in the middle of some wild activity or other. On most occasions we have no idea what it might be in aid of, although in Mexico, not much reason is needed. A friend of ours was once told by a taxi driver when asking about a particular street festival “Oh, it’s for some Virgin or other”. Yesterday evening, whether for some Virgin or other or not, these wonderful feather-draped dancers, with rattling seed pods around their feet, were going at it ten to the dozen, including the levitating guitar player.
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