Bordonal, the first entry

I am finally starting to do what I planned to do since I first arrived in Bordonal, Mexico...keep a journal. As I write this it is early morning, in fact so early that it is still dark...though with each passing moment that changes significantly. Already the sky to my right has gone from a deep greyish black-blue to a rather whitish yet still dark blue. Always the sunrises here are gorgeous.

What day is it? I honestly cannot say. It does not seem overly important. One day is much the same as another here. Whether it is the 20th or 21st or even 22nd is beyond both my ken and interest. Nor do I know what time it is, but that doesn't matter either. Time is like that here.

What a strange place, this Bordonal. Behind me, beside me, and ahead of me ring the cacophony of roosters, dogs, and even a burro or two noisily chiming in to remind us they, too, are here. A small house off to the right is playing "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" in Spanish here in a plce where history has never recorded snowfall. Someone is singing along to the music.

There are many strange dichotomies like that. A block away from here sits a two story building. The first floor houses a small store that sells cookies, chips, sodas, and a few other sundries. I believe it is the tortierrilla here in town. The parents live on that floor with however many children still live at home, a number I have never been able to determine. On the 2nd floor lives the family of the oldest child. That is where they built because that is where they could afford "land".

Parked in the pitted, pocked, rugged dirt road that runs through Bordonal is an RV that is nicer and better better accomodated than either of the two homes in that 2 story building. It has a satellite dish and I even noticed the flicker of a tv screen in the RV when I walked by some time ago...minutes? Hours? Who knows? Who cares?

Time is like that in Bordonal. Tomorrow will come. There is plenty of time in the day to do what needs done. Probably more than enough. It has been difficult to start writing this because there has been so much time that no time seems like the "right" time because there will be plenty of time later. Already the time culture of this sleepy village is seeping into my very character, changing me. Probably for the better.