lazarus in san miguel

I am dead to the world.


Or I was.


My nine hour drive yesterday from Melaque to San Miguel de Allende was the equivalent of driving from Portland to Montana.  With about the same gain in altitude.


Mexico’s toll road system (and that was by far the majority of the drive) are a joy.  They are easily the equivalent of Germany’s autobahns.  Well-engineered.  Well-maintained.  Rapidly-traveled.  And with the number of Mercedes, BMWs, Audis, and Volvos whizzing past at 100 miles per hour, it would be easy to imagine I was on my way to Stuttgart for a purchase.


I got away from Melaque at 6:30 -- almost in time to avoid another rain-induced power failure.  And was on my way in the dark for the first hour of driving.  Around 3:30, I pulled into San Miguel to find one of the world’s best hostesses.  Our own Babs.

 

During my month stay here, I will publish more photographs of this lovely casita she has rented me.  It is almost twice as large as my place in Melaque.  And the subtle hand of a professional interior designer is everywhere.  Babs is a multi-talented woman.  But we all know that from her blog.


After settling in, I had dinner with another blog friend -- Kim of Boston.  He just happened to be visiting San Miguel for the first time, with his friend from Mexico City.


Kim and I have met before -- when I visited Mexico City in February.  But I had never met his friend.  The three of us knew the logistics were going to be difficult.  Kim has learned a good deal of Spanish.  His friend speaks a bit of English.  And we all know my Spanish ranks right up there with a three year old.  We wanted to avoid a re-enactment of the classic Lucy episode where everything gets translated back and forth to comic effect.


We spoke slowly and patiently in Spanish and English.  And it worked.  I know it worked because we quickly abandoned the safe topics of the weather and tourism.  Kim is involved in the financial world.  His friend is a Mexican high school teacher of literature and Spanish.  So, there was no reasion for us to let our minds sit fallow.  Small chat was not going to be the botanos of the evening. 


Instead, we had a rather invigorating discussion on Mexican and American politics, the continuing impact of the Mexican Revolution, the vagaries of electrical economics in Mexico City, the Mexican character with a rather long discussion on how Jorge Castañeda uses the term “individualism,” and modern film.  They were not topics for people who were adverse to taking on unfamiliar words.


The evening was over far too fast.  But I needed to get back to the house while it was a bit light.  San Miguel's hill streets are as windy as those of Guanajuato and as steep as San Francisco’s.


After huffing and puffing up the hill (a month of this and my right ankle may actually be back in shape), I was ready for bed.


After all of that, I thought I would fall fast asleep.  Apparently, my mind had other ideas because I ended up (subconsciously) in a strange prime minister’s question time about the various virtues of Guanajuato, San Miguel de Allende, and Pátzcuaro.  Somewhere around 2 or 3, I finally drifted off to sleep.


Babs had told me the days recently had been rainy and the mornings cold.  There is no doubt about the rain.  It rained all night long.  But the morning was blissfully cool.  It felt like a spring morning in Oxford rather than a summer morning in Mexico.  After the heat of Melaque, it was a pleasant relief.


I jumped in the shower, closed the shower curtain – and found this.

 

A mother scorpion.  That is not a growth on her back, it is her family brood.  After she was so patient to show off her family to me, I was rather rude by shoe-ing off both her and her young-uns into what ever afterlife scorpions may have.


It was a good reminder that checking clothing and shoes is not just a cliché from safari movies.


I am now off to explore San Miguel.  Already I have a far closer connection with the place than I did with my brief Stay in February.


And there is no doubt that personal relationships –- Babs, Kim, his friend, but probably not the scorpion -- are making all the difference this time.