Hay muchas cosas...

(There are many things...)

Practical things are not fun to write about, but here's a few to get us started:
- Dave and Olymipia had the longest wedding in the history of weddings, somewhere around 3 hours, making Easter Vigil feel short
- I took my watch off three days ago and never have any clue what time it is
- Padre Rafa took many liberties in the translation of the Bishop's wedding homily
- Latino dancers are not as good as you'd think. They young groomsmen stood along the wall most of the time while Dave, Nick, and I salsa'd the night away
- Salvadoran men are such bad dancers that my hip-shakíng dance moves were getting cat calls from the ladies...and not in jest
- If you get married on a beach or somewhere else really hot, do not make the groomsmen wear all black suits
- I still don't know where I will live next week or what exactly I'll be doing other than teaching English
- It sounds like we're headed to the beach tonight, will be there Monday, and the wedding party will fly out Tuesday afternoon
- I met the famous Molly Linehan (spelling?)

* * * * *

Currently, I'm reading two books. David James Duncan's My Story As Told By Water , which is wonderful, and The Song of the Birds by Anthony de Mello, which is also wonderful. Here's something they're making me thing about.

From "The Song of the Birds":

The disciples were full of questions about God.

Said the master, "God is the Unknown and the Unknowable. Every statement about him, every answer to your questions, is a distortion of the truth."

The disciples were bewildered. "Then why do you speak about him at all?"

"Why does the bird sing?" said the master.

* * * * *

My morning begins when the bus to San Salvador blasts its horn at 5:30 am, at least most days...the wedding day, however, began nearer to 4 o'clock than I'd like to admit. But, this time, it wasn't my obnoxious bus horn alarm; it was a full mariachi band bellowing a song of lovers from the heart of the rectory. My hope, though fleeting, was that as soon as the groom greeted his bride with the first kiss of their wedding day the band would serenade them with one final song. They instead responded by putting on a pot of coffee and playing long past sun up.

I often wonder why the roosters sing from the early morning (or even late hours of the night) until sunrise, but I'm now convinced that every night rooster-mariachi bands appear in the trees and outside the windows of young gallinas to woo with their coo (so to speak) until their future hens are smitten with the romantic efforts of an off key cock-a-doodle-do.

* * * * *

All good mysteries, it seems, only reveal deeper mysteries. I don't know why the birds sing anymore than I know why that mariachi band insisted on their third pot of coffee - but then again, we all know why, don't we?