Mendoza

Ty and I arrived to a warm summer day in Mendoza. Our airport transfer pulled up to the Hyatt Hotel, a grand marble structure in the old world fashion of the official residence of some high ranking regional politico. Across the tree-lined street was Indepencia Park. We checked in, then immediately changed into cooler clothes, heading out on foot to explore the neighborhood.
Pulling a few exploratory loops out and away from the hotel, we noted most businesses were closed for Siesta. The 98 F heat eventually chased us into the shade of the park where locals napped on the grass and teenage boys tried to impress teenage girls with their bicycle acrobatics. Many empty vendor stands were assembled along the large circular promenade running the perimeter of the park. This being a Sunday, we reasoned, there wouldn´t be much to see.
Later that night, around 11:30pm, I stepped outside to the hotel to gather a last breath of warm summer air before calling it a night. The park before me was a busy nocturnal playground. I was drawn by the sounds of an amplified voice to an outdoor stage where street performers were just finishing a magic act. I watched for a few moments then raced back to our room to get Ty.
Together we wandered the park, marveling at the sizable crowd everywhere we went. There were children clamoring on lit playground equipment, lover´s picnicking on the grass, great crowds of shoppers grazing the diverse offerings of vendors along the promenade, Actors, Acrobats, Musicians, and Painters. There was no festival or important holiday to credit. The occasion of this was nothing more than a Sunday summer evening for a people who live broken days, Siesta setting a Latin rhythm to a life of patient comfort.