Sometimes I hate being correct.
And this is one of those times.
I feared that I would not have enough time to enjoy myself on my little trip to the highlands AND to simultaneously write about how much I am enjoying myself on my little trip to the highlands.
And I simply don't. There is so much to see and my bandwidth is so narrow, I am going to have to wait until I return to Melaque to tell my tales of the road.
However, Guanajuato is turning out to be a gold (and silver) mine of life and blog material. And there are times where the two do not share DNA.
If most of my nascent posts were to show up in a newspaper, they would either be in the business or news sections. (Or relegated to the comics.)
But, there are human interest pieces. Before I forget about one of them, let me share it with you now.
On our second day in Guanajuato, our group had lunch at a restaurant (Real de la Esperar) perched high on a ridge above the city. We could see it for close to 15 minutes before we reached it. (Its photograph graces the top of this post.)
One of my fellow bus travelers is a frequent reader of this blog. I met her and her husband last year in Melaque during my convalescent stage.
She thought the restaurant looked like a converted chapel. I thought it was a restaurant tarted up to look like a chapel for the tourist trade.
It turns out we were both correct. It was a 17th century chapel that was a ruin until an entrepreneur restored it with whimsy. If there is a color on the color wheel, you will find it on the walls. Along with Rubenesque cherubs -- who have a Warhol twist.
And this is one of those times.
I feared that I would not have enough time to enjoy myself on my little trip to the highlands AND to simultaneously write about how much I am enjoying myself on my little trip to the highlands.
And I simply don't. There is so much to see and my bandwidth is so narrow, I am going to have to wait until I return to Melaque to tell my tales of the road.
However, Guanajuato is turning out to be a gold (and silver) mine of life and blog material. And there are times where the two do not share DNA.
If most of my nascent posts were to show up in a newspaper, they would either be in the business or news sections. (Or relegated to the comics.)
But, there are human interest pieces. Before I forget about one of them, let me share it with you now.
On our second day in Guanajuato, our group had lunch at a restaurant (Real de la Esperar) perched high on a ridge above the city. We could see it for close to 15 minutes before we reached it. (Its photograph graces the top of this post.)
One of my fellow bus travelers is a frequent reader of this blog. I met her and her husband last year in Melaque during my convalescent stage.
She thought the restaurant looked like a converted chapel. I thought it was a restaurant tarted up to look like a chapel for the tourist trade.
It turns out we were both correct. It was a 17th century chapel that was a ruin until an entrepreneur restored it with whimsy. If there is a color on the color wheel, you will find it on the walls. Along with Rubenesque cherubs -- who have a Warhol twist.
But I knew I was in for a treat when I saw the sign to the men's rest room.
I have no idea how the women's rest room is announced, but this little bit of heresy let me know I was heading toward the correct room.
Now, there may be some saint who likes to display a well-turned ankle. I am never surprised to run across some campy spiritual mentor in Mexico. But this piece had me laughing hard enough I was not certain I could do what I had set out to do.
When I opened the door to the rest room, I knew I had merely been served the appetizer with the signage.
The urinals were not immediately in sight. But the moment I closed the artfully-designed door, I started laughing so hard I had to return to the table for my camera.
And here is the reason why.
I have no idea how the women's rest room is announced, but this little bit of heresy let me know I was heading toward the correct room.
Now, there may be some saint who likes to display a well-turned ankle. I am never surprised to run across some campy spiritual mentor in Mexico. But this piece had me laughing hard enough I was not certain I could do what I had set out to do.
When I opened the door to the rest room, I knew I had merely been served the appetizer with the signage.
The urinals were not immediately in sight. But the moment I closed the artfully-designed door, I started laughing so hard I had to return to the table for my camera.
And here is the reason why.
There are two urinals (only one is visible in the photograph) -- both installed in a beautifully-tiled shower with a tulip shower head.
I can hear the proverbial mother's voice now.
"Tommy, I hope you are urinating in the shower."
"You bet I am, Mom."
If you are in town, stop by for a look. The grub and view are worth a try as well.
3 comments:
You took a pic of the urinal.....? I can no longer fib to my wife that they are coffee cans and flower pots...
p.s. PERS did 11.3 in 2010.
You know me well enough that the cheap shot is never avoided.
11.3? Good news, indeed.
hi steve,
i'm glad you are able to give us an APPETIZER of what you are experiencing-it will just bring us back for more. of course, i'm here every morning starting out the day with you and my coffee.
fancy-shmanzy urinal shower-maybe that's a good way to clean up after someone who misses his target ;-) beautiful tile work.
have a great weekend! of course, as mr. zapata says, it's always a weekend when you're retired.
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