I need theme music for my life.
While crossing the Pont au Change, I found myself humming "I Love Paris." In Rio it was (yup), "The Girl from Ipanema." I am not very original with life scoring.
On this trip around Mexico, it has been "Old Friends."
In Guanajuato, I reconnected with with my friend Vanya -- and I got to meet her father as a bonus.
When I started this blog in Salem, Vanya and her husband, Shawn, were living in Nevada at the time, and she became a regular commenter. More than that, it turned out they had lived in the same beach house that would be my first home in Melaque.
By the time I got to Melaque, they were living in Barra de Navidad. We spent a lot of good times together -- before they moved to Guanajuato.
Those times together were destined to make our reunion one of the high points on my first trip inland.
I had never met anyone in Pátzcuaro prior to going there. But I did know someone. Most of us do. "Felipe Zapata."
His was one of the first blogs I started reading when I was making up my mind whether Mexico would be my retirement home. Since then, we have established a regular patter on each other's blogs. Especially now that I am on the move in Mexico.
When we met, we met as old buddies sharing an afternoon of coffee. Having spent time in the blog trenches, we have a bit of shared existence.
I did not think I would have a similar experience in Mexico City. After all, the only other blogger I knew there (Gary Denness) was in the process of trading in his tacos for shepherd's pie.
But the blog spirits were not content with that. Just as I was getting ready to leave for Mexico City, I received an email from Kim G. of Boston.
You know him. The fellow with the witty PS at the close of every comment. Noel Coward in a banker's suit.
The email was a pleasant surprise. Kim has been a wealth of advice and encouragement since I decided to move south. I wish I could have put some of his advice into practice -- like selling my Salem house before I retired.
After a few false starts by trying to set up a meeting by texting, we met at my hotel. I had boxed myself into a time corner by committing to join some of our tour members at a Cuban restaurant that night. But we agreed we could at least meet for drinks -- Coke Light for me.
He suggested one of the hotel roof-top restaurants on the Zócalo. It was a perfect choice. While we sipped our drinks, we could look down on what looked like the type of movie set where the government was about to fall to libertarian freedom fighters. (Some of us have odd dreams.)
This was another of those meetings where there were no tentative, nervous pauses. We simply launched into conversation as is if we had been doing this type of thing for years. Which, of course, we have. On the blog.
We ranged over a wide field of topics. Life in Mexico. Investments. Bloggers. Personalities. Restaurants.
I was really reluctant to leave for dinner -- where I may or may not have contracted my little stomach bug. But I look forward to meeting with Kim again. And with Vanya. And "Felipe."
After all:
"Hey, old friend
How do we stay old friends
No one can say, old friends
How an old friendship survives
One day chums, having a laugh a minute
One day comes and they're a part of your lives"
