By January 6 everyone else has dragged the tree to the curb and gone back to pretending the year began without ceremony. Your grandmother would have told you the season was not over. Twelve days, she would say. The Kings are still walking.
On Olvera Street they never stopped counting. A procession winds down the oldest block in Los Angeles behind Ballet Coo, a folklorico company older than most of the people watching, and then the rosca comes out: the ring of sweet bread with a tiny plastic baby baked somewhere inside it. Cut carefully. Whoever finds one gets a gift from the Kings that same evening, handed over in front of everybody, which is either an honor or a sentence depending on how you feel about attention.
Nobody checks whether you grew up with this. The bread is free, and so is the standing around afterward.
Olvera Street, 845 N Alameda St. Wednesday, January 6, 7pm.
By January 6 everyone else has dragged the tree to the curb and gone back to pretending the year began without ceremony. Your grandmother would have told you the season was not over. Twelve days, she would say. The Kings are still walking.
On Olvera Street they never stopped counting. A procession winds down the oldest block in Los Angeles behind Ballet Coo, a folklorico company older than most of the people watching, and then the rosca comes out: the ring of sweet bread with a tiny plastic baby baked somewhere inside it. Cut carefully. Whoever finds one gets a gift from the Kings that same evening, handed over in front of everybody, which is either an honor or a sentence depending on how you feel about attention.
Nobody checks whether you grew up with this. The bread is free, and so is the standing around afterward.
Olvera Street, 845 N Alameda St. Wednesday, January 6, 7pm.
By January 6 everyone else has dragged the tree to the curb and gone back to pretending the year began without ceremony. Your grandmother would have told you the season was not over. Twelve days, she would say. The Kings are still walking.
On Olvera Street they never stopped counting. A procession winds down the oldest block in Los Angeles behind Ballet Coo, a folklorico company older than most of the people watching, and then the rosca comes out: the ring of sweet bread with a tiny plastic baby baked somewhere inside it. Cut carefully. Whoever finds one gets a gift from the Kings that same evening, handed over in front of everybody, which is either an honor or a sentence depending on how you feel about attention.
Nobody checks whether you grew up with this. The bread is free, and so is the standing around afterward.
Olvera Street, 845 N Alameda St. Wednesday, January 6, 7pm.