(This photo is the view to the east, behind our house, looking out into the Sonora desert.) We’re accustomed to low maintenance, work-in-progress, cracked sidewalk look of Mexican towns. Life spilling from tin-roofed shacks and block houses into the muddy streets; clothes drying on cacti fences outlining the boundaries of small yards; tables, wash basins, plastic chairs, machinery under a canopy of palm thatch or plastic; dented, rusted, shattered trucks and cars. All amid the commerce and fabric of daily life: ATM’s, municipal building, schools, parks, groceries, hardware stores, the telecom office and water purification plant. Life pulses around the sea in Kino Viejo.
But, will we ever get used to the dogs so thin that hip, back-bones and ribs protrude from backsides? The worst are covered in festering scabs. No wagging tails, sad eyes make contact with mine. Involuntarily, I turn away. Visibly shaken, Kim spotted her first; a small creature unnoticed by locals roasting spicy pollo in the park. Where is the compassion? Is it deadened by hopelessness? Or, do people no longer see that which they can do nothing about? But we all can pick up the trash; can’t we euthanize walking dead canines? This is a glimpse at “the other side” that I’m sure will expand with our perspective and experience, as we venture from this first stop in paradise to explore further into Mexico. Peace.