A light summer rain darkens the green stone walls of the old church, and I stand at its hip listening across the grey brick side street.
A 3 wheeled moto-taxi rounds the corner and slowly approaches. It has a flatbed on which sits a big rectangular billboard. The outside of the billboard is a collage of portraits of masked men posing in bright reds and blues and greens, and somewhere inside the billboard is a sound system.
The moto-taxi parks and the driver ducks past a fruit stand and a corner store selling cell phone sim card refills on his way inside. The sky is darkening, but you can still see the mountains’ silhouette north of the city.
Across from the church is Arena San Francisco: a blue stucco warehouse with a garage door big enough for a truck, which is exactly what the door is for because during the day Arena San Francisco is 1-floor parking garage. But stepping inside onto the slick tile floor, you wouldn’t know it tonight.
In the center of the concrete room is a full wresting ring. The ropes, flash yellow, red, blue and green. And above the ring, long parallel strings of matching colorful flags flitter in the florescent light.
The ring is 3-4 feet high, and sheathed in a sort of vinyl cover with sponsor logos, most notably a dentist’s office. And surrounding the ring on all 4 sides, are about a dozen rows of red aluminum folding chairs, ready for an audience.
The sonic billboard is still audible out on the street. Tonight, it says, Lucha Libre.