When the car reached its destination we alighted, and were instantly
surrounded with boatman, neatly clad in suits consisting of white
linen blouse and pants. Everyone clamored for us to try his boat, and
the crowd was so dense that it was impossible to move. As there is no
regular price, we had to make a bargain, so we selected a strong, brown
fellow, who, although he pressed close up to us, had not uttered a
word while the rest had been dwelling on the merits of their boats. We
went with him to the edge of the canal and looked at his little flat,
covered with a tin roof.
White linen kept out the sun at the sides, and pink calico, edged with
red and green fringe, covered the seats. The bottom was scrubbed very
white and the Mexican colors floated from the pole at the end. We asked
his price. "Six dollars," he answered. "No," we said; "it's too much."
After more debating and deliberating he set his price at one dollar,
which we accepted.
Sunday is market day, and La Viga was consequently the prettiest
sight we had yet seen in Mexico. It was completely filled with boats
containing produce. Some were packed full of fresh vegetables, some
contained gay colored birds, which the Indians trap in the mountains
and bring to market here, and others were a mass of exquisite flowers.
While the man piloted his boat over the glassy waters, the ever busy
woman wove wreaths and made bouquets from the stock before her. Such
roses! I can yet inhale their perfume, and how they recalled kind
friends at home. Daisies, honeysuckles, bachelor buttons, in variety
unknown in the States. And the poppies! Surely no other spot on earth
brings forth such a variety of shade, color, and size. They are even
finer than the peonies of the States.
But this boatful has passed only to bring others, ever the same, yet
always new. They look at us with a pleasant smile, and we answer their
cheerful salutes with a happy feeling. Along the banks we see people
decorating their straw huts with a long plant, which contains yellow
and red flowers. They plait it at the top in diamond shape, and not
only put it on their homes, but use it to decorate the pulque shops and
stretch across streets. The most disagreeable sight was the butcher at
work. Every here and there along the shore are large copper kettles
filled with boiling water. One man held a little brown pig down with
his knee and cut its throat, while another held a small bowl in which
he caught the blood. Still further up we saw the first work completed,
and on sticks, put in the ground around a large charcoal fire, were the
different pieces roasting. The flies were as thick as bumblebees in a
field of clover, and we realized for the first time that summer, with
all its pests, as well as its glories, was on our heels.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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