The Wishing Shrine

Actually, that day we were not really supposed to be going to the local shrine, El Tiradito, which in English means either The Little Outcast or The Tiny Throwaway.

Myself, I am inclined to go with the first translation, as most of the shrines I have visited would leave one to believe these shriners, they throw away nothing.

We were, in fact, supposed to be touring a tortilla factory in Barrio Yúpi, but when we could not find it we got hungry and started cursing at each other. Well, I should say, we started cursing at each other even more than we usually do. We gave up on the tortilla factory which probably was not even open anyway because anything of any cultural importance in this town seems to be closed on Monday and guess which day of the week it was? Bingo!

As much as I love Tucson, I often lament that if I lived in a more cosmopolitan setting, all the museums and such would be open on that most manic of weekdays. Oh, I just know it. C'est la vie.

Which is the name of a French sleep aid.

Anyhow, we ended up at a restaurant, El Minuto, which I believe in English means The Small Toe, and each and every one of us made certain to tell our waitress the sad story of how we had ventured downtown to learn where tortillas come from, only to end up lost and hungry, with precious little time before we had to be over to the WEBE to resume our afternoon tasks. As we were leaving, sucking on minty toothpicks and chomping down tiny York patties that I am not certain a certain driver actually paid for or not regardless of what he says, the waitress suggested we walk just beyond the parking lot and visit the El Tiradito Wishing Shrine.

"I am certain you will like it," she said. "It is dedicated to sinners."

I suppose she was right. It was a fascinating story. But as with many places where candles are burned and prayers are said, there was an awful lot of waxy buildup.