Michel and I have shot innumerable photos of a tiny pueblo that sits far down in the valley below Santa Rosa, always shooting from Santa Rosa. The best of these is the first photo in his blog entry here. However, we had never driven down there until last Tuesday.
One descends down an intermittently cobblestoned road through a series of switchbacks. Before negotiating the last of those switchbacks, one comes abreast of the bell towers of the church at about eye level with the top of them.
After the last of the switchbacks, one the finally descends into the town. It is like entering another world.
The street into the plaza passes under the flying buttresses of the church. I neglected to ask the name of the place when we were there and still do not know.
The obligatory photo of an old door. I myself do not understand the psychological hold these old doors have on me. I know this though. If I had ten pesos for every photo of an old door in Mexico that is stored on the hard drive of this notebook as well as on the exterior hard drive sitting behind it, I would not be sitting here in front of it blogging right now.
Another old door of a different sort. Michel would remove those wires in Photoshop pixel by pixel. Perhaps someday I will do that with this photo. I shall have to think long and hard about it first.
Tell you what. Here is a photo of an old door from a couple of years ago. This old door at least has a dog lying in front of it. That adds something.
See also L’Amour de la Photo for color.