The signs are there; the momentum is building. Maybe people who don’t know the place can feel it, maybe they can’t. But the signs are all around.
One of them is the waitress doing an impromptu salsa.
There are more obvious signs. Neon-sized ones like the slightly dodgy fashion shop no longer has slightly dodgy fashion. It has togas, a nun’s habit with a plunging neckline and belly dancers’ veils. Okay, the clothes are still dodgy, but with good reason.
Food stalls are springing up. One is festooned with garlands of savoury chorizos, sweaty hams and open topped sandwiches so chunky they could hold a metal door open.
One of the waiters is Walter White. So that’s what happened to him.
Another stall has a pig’s head and bottles of wine on its trestle table counter.
All portents of the maelstrom to come.
People are chattering that bit more animatedly, laughter comes easier.
There’s excitement in the air and the waitress dances.
Carnival is nearly upon us