From Philip's personal Journal... dated 6-04-2005

A thin black and white dog saunters into the street and reclaims the spot he probably slept in the night before. The dogs here aren�t really pets, more like friendly scavengers. They seem to run a community of their own with only a part-time affiliation to the townspeople, who do seem to take care of them if they're hurt. I recognize the dog from a few nights before as 'belonging' to one of the musicians in the local marimba band. Five men altogether made up the group, four who played side-by-side on an oversized wooden marimba, and one who played drums. Their instruments were old and thrashed, contrasting sharply with the shiny new ones that appear every Friday at El Calvario. Still, the cracked, buzzing keys and split drumheads gave their music an unforgettable, raspy voice. They must have played for four hours that evening, taking turns singing, playing solos, and everyone drinking a ton of 'Gallo' brand beer.