It's like Christmas Eve here, all week. Yesterday I bought ham for our picnic from our butcher downstairs, and every eye in the shop turned to stare. Here they eat no meat all week, and probably are fasting today. It's an odd thing to go from being one of a very few Catholic kids in my public high school, since the South is a historically very Protestant place, to living in a country that is still, despite the gains made by evangelical outfits, for all intents and purposes a very Catholic place. Even the humor (see post below) often relies on religious references.
As an acquaintance was telling me the other day, although she is more modern and less devout than her parents or grandparents, seeing people dancing, for example, on Good Friday comes as a shock. That doesn't really happen in Bogota, Colombia's most conservative city.
I went jogging last night in the rain, after a day of waiting it out with no success, and felt like the only person in the world. Then I ran past one of the most lovely churches I've ever seen, built right into the facade of shops and apartments, and the line for confession was a block long, stretching outside the entrance, past stray dogs and round a few lonely vendors. It was a sight to see.
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