At mysterious and unspecified times of
the year here in San Felipe, Baja, Mexico, often found
in the itinerary of some cyclic fiesta, one can find something
called folkloric dancing. If you are lucky enough
to be in town for such an event, you'll witness the spectacle
of young Mexican men and women dressed in wonderfully
colorful garb. They'll mount the stage assembled for the
occasion, invariably at the foot of Calzada Chetumál,
and with lowered heads wait for the first throaty unoiled
flourish to leap from the Clydesdale-sized speakers. Instantly
the coiled springs of their legs come to life and the
stage rattles and thumps to the footloose frenzy of their
capers. Dress hems scallop the air and arms reach for
the blue vault of the sky. Knees bend and boot heels stamp
a tattoo on the wooden deck. Hands rest with thumbs hooked
on sun-gleamed belt buckles while hips and legs perform
a complex geometry of motion. Paper fans unaccordion at
a flick of a wrist and follow the whirling movements at
the end of slender arms as a Mexican reel unwinds like
a birthday ribbon from the big speakers.
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