Last Thursday, November 1, I stopped to look at some altares set up under the portico of the Palacio Estatal (“state palace” of Veracruz state) after going to the cajero (ATM) in downtown Xalapa so that I could pay my rent, which was due that day--more about this later. Crowds of people were moving from altar to altar to view the differences between the altars from different cities in the state of Veracruz.

At one point, I encountered an old man holding out his hat, asking for money from passersby. He managed to maintain his dignity nevertheless, which showed in his calm demeanor and the way he looked people in the eye as they approached him. I stopped and began looking for coins at the bottom of the large canvas bag I was using for a purse. I fished and fished for my coin purse but couldn’t find it. As I was fishing, I assured him I had money to give him but it was taking me some time to find it. Then the old man said to me, more or less: “No te preocupes. A veces se puede, y otras veces, no se puede.” (“Don’t worry. Sometimes one is able [to give], and at other times, one is not.”)

At that point, I gave up looking and thanked him for his understanding, walking away feeling that he had shared his abundance with me.
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Directly across from the Palacio Estatal where the Día de los Muertos altars were displayed is Xalapa’s cathedral, whose congregation is deep in celebration of a former bishop, Rafael Guízar y Valencia, whose body is entombed in a crypt within the cathedral and who was beatified on January 29, 1995, by Pope John Paul II. Margarita tells me he is expected to be granted sainthood soon.

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I mentioned above that I went to an ATM (automated teller machine, or cajero in Spanish) to draw out money to pay my rent. (I pay $400 US for a two-bedroom apartment here in Xalapa.) I discovered that I could only withdraw $3,000 pesos ($280 US) on a single day here in Mexico. I tried going to a cajero from a different bank, but I got the message that I'd already withdrawn my daily limit.

I ended up going to my landlady, Doña Atala, explaining to her daughter Samantha the problem I'd encountered, and paying my rent a day late.