One of the things about Oaxaca is that there are a lot of fireworks. A lot. In my experiences in the US, fireworks typically mean a big event -- the Fourth of July or a carnival or something -- and they come in big elaborate shows, often with synchronized music. Not here. Pretty much every evening there are fireworks somewhere around town, and they often come in very short bursts. An explosion here, an explosion there. Sometimes on a weekend, sometimes just on a Tuesday afternoon. Sometimes it seems to be at a party or a church, but other times it is just kids playing in a park.
At first, my inclination when I heard fireworks was to run outside and watch the show or to try to figure out what the event was that was inspiring them. But over the last few weeks I have realized this is a futile effort. By the time you look up the show is likely to be over, and who knows when the next explosion will be. I am slowly getting used to this and realizing that I should just enjoy the lights when I see them and not worry about the ones I am missing because there will be some more soon.
There's probably a deeper life lesson there, but I'm just going to go back to my taco now.
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