Viva San Miguel de Allende!

     San Miguel de Allende is a feast for the senses.

     It's the sound of horse's hooves clopping over cobblestone streets.

     It's the celebrants of Mexico's Independence from Spain cheering the entry of the insurgents into the Jardin. 

     It's someone shouting:  "Viva Mexico!"  And a crowd responding with "Viva!" 

     And a band (because there often seems to be a band) playing La Bikina and everyone singing along.  It's firework blasts *Pop Pop Pop* as the church bells dependably chime the time. 

     Children laugh, and lovers kiss, hunched old Indian women sell beaded necklaces, and expats marvel at the scene...while half-wishing the hubbub would die down and their adopted town would return to it's languorous siesta dream.

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     Yesterday we walked down to Chorro.  That's where a Franciscan friar's dogs located springs and founded the town of San Miguel way back in the 1500's.  Now it's a district of beautiful Spanish Colonial architecture overlooking the equally beautiful Benito Juarez Park.  

     We remember that someone pointed up this hill and said it's where our property manager lives.  We only see expansive buildings that look like historic sites.  Then we notice a plaque on one announcing the name of the casa, and below the name 'Cadena'.

     It's a sprawling home with a priceless view over the city.  The house is a mini-castle.

     I look and Michael and say:  "I think we're paying Abraham too much."  Michael laughs.

     But, we're not. Things are magically taken care of, and for a small percentage of what we'd expect to pay at home.  We are grateful.

     It feels good to have someone taking care of things in a place where the opportunities for confusion and misunderstanding are boundless.   

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Here are a few examples of these confusing situations:

     We go to our favorite artisan's store.  We've agreed to pick up some chairs we ordered the last time we were in town. 

     Sylvia is the owner.  We we were surprised to find we have a common friend from Fort Worth.  She seems familiar to us. 

     Today she says the chairs are not yet in because:  "My husband has to go to jail for your chairs."

     I always thought Sylvia's English was very good.  Now I'm wondering what linguistic mishap has just occurred.

     But, no, that's what she said, and that's what she meant.     The chairs we ordered are made by felons in Mexico, and her husband had to go to the prison to pick them up.   There was some problem with visiting hours, I suppose.  

     (I guess it's like how they make license plates in Texas, but here they paint festive yellow chairs and carefully weave the seats.)

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    There was a day where bells were ringing continuously in the middle of the day.  They go on and on and on...  We wondered why and searched the internet for possibilities:  A saint's day?  Some national celebration?  But we found no clues. 

     The next day we ask the waiter at Rincon de Thomas, our favorite breakfast restaurant, about the theory we settled on:  "Was it because of the new pope that just got elected?"  (He is, after all, the first pope from the America's.) 

     But the waiter says:  "On no...it's because of the man gone dead."

     We stare, uncomprehending, as we do so often here.

     Then he adds:  "Funeral.  You know, funeral."

     Ah ha!  Yes we do know funeral.  And we are grateful our waiter's English is so far superior to our Spanish. 

     Then we say:  "That's it?  Bells going on forever?  Bells all over town...for one man's funeral?"

     "Yes."

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     During a day taking care of things at the casa I hear the door buzzer.  

     "Ola.  Buenos dias."      There's a man standing on the street in front of the house.  He's dressed in loose pants and shirt.  The shirt is tucked in, but he still looks disheveled.  Everything he's wearing is too large for him, and it's all in some shade of khaki. 

     But why would he bother with conspicuous dress?  He's standing there with a donkey.  Clearly, the donkey is always going to get the attention.

     "Ola.  Buenos dias."  I say.  Then add:  "Good morning.", because I still feel I haven't extended a greeting unless it's in my native tongue.  

     The man is asking me about something, but none of the words seem to stick when they hit my brain. 

     I'm standing there staring at him until Salome', the house keeper that came with the house, (another story altogether) comes up behind me.  I'm relieved she was there that day.  She tells me he wants the bags.

     Ah!  Bolsas!  Darn.  I even knew that word.

     We bought some dirt a couple of weeks ago to fill some of our planters.  Now he wants the bags back so he can reuse them.  

     It's not that easy being green in another language.

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     In addition to the 'stranger in a strange land' feelings that overcome us from time to time, magic visions also seem to be everywhere:

     Just yesterday morning Michael was buying a bag of coffee.  I looked out of the shop through the arched window, and see a beautiful young girl in a long white dress with elaborate lace and an elegant tiered skirt.  

     Her hair is pulled back into a sleek bun. On top of her head is the Spanish style half circle coronet.  It appears to be made of tortoiseshell.  It's cut into an intricate pattern.  At the base is a wreath of red carnations, and she is carrying a bouquet of long-stemmed red carnations.  Just the toe of her scarlet high heels peeks out from under her skirt.

     She climbs into a black carriage pulled by two large black horses and they proceed around the main square in front of the pink spires of La Parroquia.   It looks like a princess returning to her kingdom.    

     There is a bullfight in town, and she is Queen of the Bullfight.

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//I found myself rushing through the quiet post holiday-weekend streets tonight.  Headed to the one American franchise that's infiltrated this fair city.  There's a Starbuck's in the main square.  (Protested by the foriegners - proposed and championed by the locals.)  Our internet is down at home and I don't want to miss a post.  Michael spent a lot of time on the phone with our internet provider today...experiencing pretty much the same kind of confusion and misunderstanding you can have with tech-support all over the world.//