hand movement Carlos indicates to piggy back me, above the growing noise of the crowd; I jump on to save getting separated from him and he sets off, climbing over vacant seats towards the centre courtyard, leaving a sea of surprised faces behind as he side steps and jumps over their waving arms and discarded belongings.
Eventually we make it to our friends; I slip off Carlos’s back and take my seat next to Blair, with Carlos sitting down beside me and John next to him, giving us the opportunity to speak with our same sex counterparts while still maintaining contact with each other.
I give Blair a flash of my wrist, turning her into a shrieking mess, with the decibels rising even more when I explain the story behind it. We’re so engrossed in gossiping that we don’t even notice some twelve men enter the courtyard; it’s not until I get an elbow in the ribs from Carlos that we realise the din of the crowd has died down and all eyes are fixed on the entertainment.
All twelve men are dressed in matching costumes comprising of black boots, impossibly tight wool pants, brightly coloured shirts with ruffled fronts and to top it off an unnecessarily large sombrero, all decorated with silver threads woven into each piece of clothing.
They each hold either a trumpet or, a guitar; the guitars vary in shape and size giving a depth to their music. They play lively tunes, singing out their souls in Spanish, I am none the wiser as to what they are saying, but the words have me hypnotised.
As they continue people begin to join in, first with encouraging whoops and cheers at random intervals, until the more confident, or drunk, members who are familiar with the songs actually sing out the words from the sidelines.
The Mariachis begin to serenade each woman one by one, while their backs are turned to us, Blair explains the songs to me; they sing of numerous subjects, but mostly they sing of loving women or being hurt by them.
By halfway round the circle their heart wrenching tunes have reduced many a woman to tears, although each one still smiles and taps her foot, claps, or even dances on to the continuing music; they seem to be elated by the melancholy the music induces in them.
All too soon they are stood in front of me, staring into my eyes as they strum out the first few notes. After the first verse, when I’m blushing wildly at the prospect of having twelve men sing to me, Carlos stands, merging in and becoming part of the band, to the audiences utter delight; one man pops a sombrero on his head, while another hands him a bright orange, short jacket. By half way through the second verse he has joined in, belting out the words to me. Blair leans in close and translates for me:
"I loved her, yet she broke my heart,
I feel sorry for anyone who now,
Asks me for my love, I am truly hurt.
I will never give love another chance."
It’s all wildly romantic, I’m not moved to tears, probably because I am getting all the meanings of the words second hand from Blair instead of directly through the emotionally charged singing of the Mariachis, but still my heart is racing as they move on and Carlos sweeps me up and spins me round, swaying us to the beat.
We dance late into the night, the band makes a timid attempt to leave twice, but their path is blocked by the crowd, cheering for more, so instead they carry on, the music becoming slower and sadder as the night progresses, until finally people are too tired, or saddened to hold them captive any longer.
The bar sends out another wave of drinks once they leave, finishing off the last die hard stragglers still milling about outside.
Blair and John have long since called it a night, arranging to come to Carlos’s tomorrow evening for a farewell dinner for me. Today has been full of love and promises while the night has been full of energy and romance, by the time we stumble in at four am, it’s all I can do to keep my eye’s open, falling into a deep peaceful sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
Thursday has arrived! It’s my last real day in Mexico , the depressing pain in my chest starts from the moment I open my eyes. I don’t want to spend my last hours wallowing in