Slowly the people begin to wake up. Old, rusting trucks rattle up the streets toward the plaza. Boys on bicycles, a few men on horses, and people walking like myself pass me on the road, wave, and call out “Adios” in greeting. Women stand in their doorways wetting the dust that covers the road. A little boy runs barefoot down the sidewalk to his neighbor’s house. The tortilla shop next to the Projecto Del Carpintero office is crowded, now. People are standing in line waiting for their packages of still-hot tortillas. School girls walk in pairs through the plaza. The bells on the old church ring out the hour: eight o’clock. Four or five men are waiting in front of the office door for someone to bring the key; I wait with them.

The sun is hot in Mexico. By noon, when I look for lunch, the streets are nearly empty. Clusters of people sit in the shade of the huge trees in the plaza. An old man pushes a wheelbarrow down the street. Dogs lie under cars, tongues lolling out of their mouths. People come and go from the little cafés around the plaza, looking out the open door and brushing away buzzing flies. Every table holds a bowl of a green chili sauce. Red chilies go on everything – even fruit. A toddler at the table next to me stops eating and stares while I wait for my tostadas. I guess he's never seen blonde hair before.

It is in the evening that Jaumave truly comes to life. When the sun is setting, and a cool breeze blows through the dusty streets, then everyone comes out of their houses and gathers in the three plazas in the heart of town. Children laugh and shout as they play on the playground. Young people play basketball or soccer, or walk the perimeter of the plazas together. Some people sit in the backs of their trucks, talking over the loud music coming from their radios. Couples kiss on the benches under the trees, unaware of the world around them.

Taco stands begin to open when the sun sets, and hamburger stands too. Sitting in the dim yellow light at a plastic white table, I squeeze fresh lime over my tacos, spoon on the green chili sauce, and watch the people pass. I see a face I recognize; it’s hard not to in this little town. She calls out my name, and I wave. That’s what the plaza is all about, really. Meeting friends, and passing on, and meeting them again.

It is late now, and I’m tired. I walk slowly up the dark, cobble stoned street, and turn in at a dirt driveway. I’m almost past Pastor Pepe's house when a voice calls out to me from the darkness. They're sitting on their front porch, enjoying the night. I stop to chat a few minutes with them before moving on.

Outside my door, I pause to look around. The stars above seem so close, so numerous, that I hate to go inside. A dog is barking, but other than that all is still. The shadows of the mountains loom up on the horizon. The breeze is soft and cool. This has been a good day in Jaumave.