Made in China

We headed to the bus station this morning just before 8 a.m. and were there in time for our ride. Anyone ever traveling by bus in Mexico should book with ETN. The bus was on time. Before we boarded, we were each handed a lunch bag with a sandwich and a cookie and asked what drink we would like to accompany our meal. The seats were generous even for American butts like ours and complete with foot rests so that the whole contraption was more like a chaise lounge than a Greyhound seat. In fact, I was able to extend my legs in the air in front of me without me feet reaching the seat ahead. Granted my legs are only about three feet long, but still. The "in-flight" movie was The Dark Knight, which reminded us of the time we thought we were going to see it when we were in Merida two summers ago and ended up actually going to see whichever one of the Batman movies Danny Devito was in and then only part because the film ended half way through. Good times. We got to Guanajuato and took a cab to the hotel nearest our rental and then called our short-term landlords and waited for them to arrive.

We weren't able to find our rental property on our own despite it being a stone's throw from the hotel where we waited. All of the buildings on Calle San Mateo share the same address, although that wasn't totally apparent on our arrival and it isn't totally apparent now why that's a good idea. We were waiting at the back entrance of the hotel and our place is essentially in the alley behind that. Picture an alley. Now modify that picture for geographical realism: picture a Mexican alley. The curb appeal lacks everything to be desired and it was hard to be excited at our prospects until we got inside where it was tiny but inviting. We have two rooms: a bedroom and a kitchen. It is dinky but in several ways nicer than our place in San Miguel. For instance, the bed has an actual mattress and I'm looking forward to excellent slumber and the kitchen is well equipped.

Our landlord here is a man named Mike and he showed us how to light our oven and get to the roof top terrace and then suggested since he was going back into town that we tag along to learn our way. Because our place is about 20 minutes or so outside of the main square and we didn't yet have a map, it seemed ideal. He and his wife moved here from the States in 1992 and own several rental properties. He is currently renovating a new one that they will rent or sell when he is finished. We are pretty far out so we spent a bit of time walking along with him as he showed us the plazas where the novios smooch in the evening and where to get good crepes and here live music and things like that. He said the recession has been difficult in Mexico, where there are three main industries: tourism, remittance and petrol. He mentioned that GTO is a more Mexican town than SMA and that more Mexicans vacation here than Americans. He also mentioned that the market caters to tourists, but again those tourists are Mexican and--according to Mike--Mexicans have terrible taste and so the market is filled with crap that was made in China and he said it was frankly embarrassing.

He left us off in the center of town and because we had given him all of our cash for the rental property, we immediately turned around and headed back to it for our a passport so we could get more money. Heading into town is easier than heading out. In is all downhill, and out is all uphill. It isn't actually too bad until pretty close to our place and then it is just ridiculously steep. Walking becomes a deep knee bend.

After all of our serious financial dealings were concluded, we took naps and showers and went back down for dinner, which we had in a lovely plaza with a gargling fountain and live music and people all about. After dinner, we walked a bit and there are throngs of people here. Mike said that because of the topography of the area, people gravitate down to the center and sometimes there are thousands of people in the streets in an evening. Back home, we tried to watch a bit of television and were reminded why we don't have cable at home. The American shows here don't paint a picture of sophistication and cultivation, unless you think a show called Man vs. Food in which a man competitively eats and that's the whole show is the best we have to offer. Talk about embarrassing.

Tomorrow, we will get to the market in the morning and make a plan for the afternoon. Diego Rivera was born here and there is a museum in his childhood home and there is a Don Quixote museum even though he's not real, so whatever we do it should be interesting.

Dinner and a Show

After wandering around looking for a farmacia in which to buy a phone card (which by the way is reminiscent of a prayer card as one side is a picture of the Virgin) and then wandering around looking for a payphone and then standing around figuring out how said payphone works, we made our travel arrangements for Guanajuato: we are renting a casita for a week and while the website of the place shows a thousand pictures of a pool, the phone call confirmed that they don't actually have one. Our bus tickets were less expensive than the shuttle that brought us here from the airport and we leave at 8:45 tomorrow morning.

On our way to the center to take care of that business, we saw a small work crew repaving some streets in our neighborhood. Because the streets are cobblestone, this entailed men digging out old loose stones, fitting new ones, hammering them in place and then covering the new stones with sandy soil. The end result is a bit like a new grave: the road patch is a slightly lighter color and raised from the surrounding surface. Eventually, the feet of the people who cross over will tamp it. Don't think just because the street stones seem haphazard that they are; they have been carefully placed and that gave me something to think about.

We lost a lot of the day to some work I had to do for school, but we did return to the art studios we visited our first day when they were closed and it was rainy. Today, the sun was shining brightly and there were artists in residence: piano music filled the courtyard; sculptors plied their trade on the balcony outdoors; we saw elbows from beyond easels in several cells. The setting here is a natural backdrop to the creation of beautiful things.

We had dinner at a Lebanese restaurant just up the street from our place and Chris said if we could find decent Indian, too, then we could probably live here. After dinner, we went to the Teatro Santa Ana to see the Players Workshop production of The Art of Murder. It wasn't anywhere near the best play I've seen but it wasn't so close to the worst, either. The lead was played by a guy who does actually have an IMDB page, mostly bits and pieces on shows like Dallas and Knots Landing and Chips and T.J. Hooker. The 80s, maybe, were his heyday. The theater itself is a super cool space, also within the Biblioteca Publica and so in a room that was originally part of the convent. It had a very high ceiling, stone wall on three sides but was still an intimate space with only about 75 seats in total. I would go again but they are at the start of their run and the next show isn't until mid August.

It was dark when the play let out and we haven't been in the center in the evening yet so we headed in rather than out. The Parroquia is more majestic at night than during the day, lit from within and behind each spire at every level with the palm trees that flank it enlivened by the warm breeze. There were dozens of mariachi musicians strolling in the plaza offering a soundtrack to the scene. Charming.

When we returned home, we discovered there was a fireworks show in honor of something and we could see it from our porch which was a nice way to finish the evening. Tomorrow, we're off to Guanajuato, and if we have a decent internet connection, I'll continue to post while we're there.

The Cat's Old

The cat's old. The cat's old and sometime she pees on stuff. The cat's old and sometimes she pees on stuff and she definitely peed on the backpack before we left home. Today, we finally had to make history of it because you can't really get a smell like that out and particularly not when you are in a place where the water you wash with smells a little funny, too. This is a long (and heavily stylized, no?) introduction to the bus trip we took out to the big box this morning.

In Merida, it was called Walmart. In Panajachel, it had a different name but the employees all had Walmart badges. Here, neither appeared to be the case. When we asked a clerk about backpacks and she walked us to two different parts of the store to show us the displays of mostly lucha libre packs for kids and actual luggage, we concluded--based on her helpfulness and generally pleasant demeanor--it couldn't possibly be a Walmart. It wasn't until we wandered through the produce section that we realized all of the fruit had come from the States and was displayed in milk crates with the Walmart logo on them. Foiled again.

We've commented, actually, on how few American franchises and chains there are here compared to other places we've been in Mexico. There is a single Starbucks in the center of town, the Walmart we discovered today and a Domino's/Blockbuster combo up the hill from our neighborhood, but to date that's all we've seen.

We spent some time at the Biblioteca Publica today and understand why so many Americans find this an attractive place to retire. There are lectures and book talks and SMA hosts a writing conference each winter that entertains celebrated novelists. This year, Barbara Kingsolver was the keynote speaker. Next week, they are showing a Johnny Weissmuller film and having a lecture on Jose Saramago. I can't decide about which I am more pleased. Within the library, there is a small theater for stage productions and films and a cafe and meeting rooms and books and books and books. The library is housed in a former convent and so the cells are used for different genres and purposes and there are multiple courtyards. Simply, it's lovely, and it made me want to live there: not in SMA but in the SMA library.

We had lunch at a little outdoor place around the corner from home with a small menu. They had tacos: fish, chicken, beef and shrimp. We ordered one of each and shared them. The fish and chicken were delicious, served with a vat of onions, tomato and cilantro and a jug of chimichurri sauce. The others were teriyaki: enough said.

We came back in time to avoid the rains and good we did because today's downpour flooded the streets. I wrote for a bit and Chris read and napped before heading out with his guitar to a Song Circle we read about in one of the local papers. Unfortunately, while he did find the building on the other side of town, there was no Song Circle to be found. Our neighbor, Lydia, saw him on the way back in and told him about another opportunity to play on Tuesday nights so we'll put that on the agenda for next week.

We're delaying our trip to Guanajuato a day or two because we lost our internet connection today so weren't able to arrange our accommodations there and we took our things to the lavanderia today and they won't be ready until after the buses leave tomorrow. In the meantime, Chris is playing his guitar on the porch and I'm fixing to listen to him.

Sixteen Chapel of the Americas

Today, we hit a couple of milestones: first cab ride, first trip out of SMA, first nap, first meal in the marketplace, first walk without the map and it was all good.

We went to the town of Atotonilco, which is only seven miles outside of San Miguel, but if you don't know how to get there it may as well be 70. We hailed a cab which was easy and negotiated a price which was relatively easy and then enjoyed having the cool breeze of open road hit us through the window. After all of those years of having no heat in my bedroom and no AC anywhere in the house, I've grown accustomed to the control and comfort of choosing the exact temperature I want for every room I'm in. Because it's an adventure to be here, I like having nothing but a rickety ceiling fan and white curtains to block out the heat of the afternoon sun; that being said, it makes a car ride doubly refreshing. Like many cities, SMA is charming in the center and becomes nittier and grittier as you work your way to the outskirts. Chris paid careful attention to our routes; he would like to rent a car and do some exploring on our own and return to Atotonilco to visit the hot springs on that venture. Today, we had the driver take us to the Santuario de Atotonilco and we spent all of our time there. One tourism brochure that we picked up called it the Sixteen Chapel of the Americas, because it is renowned for its art. It was built in the 1740s and the entire interior is covered in murals by the indigenous artist Miguel Antonio Martinez de Pocasangre. It is breathtakingly beautiful. There isn't a place to land your eyes where there isn't something to entice them. It is a mixture of pastoral and fiery scenes, many of which Chris took pictures of although it is difficult to recreate the grandeur on film. Also, it was a bit dark and no flash photography is allowed in the sanctuary in an effort to preserve the paintings. (The World Monuments Fund put the church on its list of the world's 100 most endangered monuments.) In many ways, the Santuario is reminiscent of the Sistine Chapel, except that the Sistine Chapel is in the heart of the Apostolic Palace in the heart of Vatican City in the heart of Rome and everywhere else you look there is also something breathtaking to behold. The Santuario is in the middle of nothing. There are outbuildings in ruins behind it and a few stalls across the street where elderly men and women sell religious medals, rosaries and crowns of thorns (they're sharp), but there is little else. When he dropped us off, the cab driver asked if we would like him to stay and wait. We didn't wan't to keep him that long, but he said it was impossible to spend more than 20 minutes seeing the town, because there was nothing to see; he was right. It makes the place more remarkable somehow that it is tucked away in the middle of a speck of a town. I'm so glad we went, and everyone should.

He dropped us back in the center of SMA and we did some more research about day trips. In Panajachel last summer, there were travel agencies everywhere so it was easy to plan trips but it isn't quite so here, and I think we have settled on making our own way. Thursday morning, we'll go to the bus station at the edge of town and if we get there early enough there is supposed to be a relatively comfortable bus to Guanajuato, where we will stay for a few days. At noontime, we went back to the market and wandered through, where we saw a traveling medic checking the blood pressure of the men who worked in the stalls. We stayed in the market for lunch and had simple good soup and tortillas.

We came home when it started to sprinkle and napped and read (book club peeps--I have a lot to say about both books when we meet in August) and watched Rocky II on television. At some point, there is always a Rocky movie: we saw one in Merida and another in Pana.

We had a destination in mind when we headed out for dinner so left the house unencumbered. There was a place with live music we wanted to visit after dinner that was on the same street but at the other end of the neighborhood, but alas no music this evening (despite an advertisement that said live music tonight). On the way back, Chris suggested we turn in and take a different route home. This is not something I could ever do without a map because there are square blocks here and triangular blocks there and streets that run off into nothing, but he has such a strong internal compass, I don't question his turns. He got us home and we had the opportunity to walk through a different neighborhood than I had yet.

Chris is changing his guitar strings right now so I have a feeling there will be some live music yet in our day and just about my favorite kind, but I'm not too terribly far away from a good night's sleep.

Rain, Rain Go Away

We eased into our day slowly, heading to the Instituto de Allende this morning for breakfast and then to see what we could see. It is a beautiful building with courtyards beyond courtyards and murals throughout, one in particular which recounts the history of Mexico--no small task. We investigated the "field trips" the school organizes to places as close as Dolores Hidalgo and the town of Guanajuato which are within a few hours of here and as far as Mexico City. Chris is doing the research necessary to plan what will probably amount to several trips to outlying regions.

We were finally able to get in the cathedral today and it is striking in its size and in its myriad styles of art. There are traditional religious paintings one would expect in a gothic structure, but there are also detailed and geometric murals subdued in color and vibrant grease paint murals. This church had another mural depicting the scene at Calvary and for the second time we saw a woman in the foreground of the work holding what appears to be the Shroud of Turin. The first time we saw it, we thought it was an anachronism, but now having seen it twice I'm starting to wonder what the tradition is.

It has been raining steadily since we arrived, sometimes heartily and other times lightly, and according to the 10-day forecast, these showers will continue, but this morning, the sun was out and the sky was blue prompting us to return to several of the places we've already been to spend a bit more time. We went back to the public laundry, where we saw the concentration of egrets the other day, and Chris brought his telephoto lens this time and was able to capture some excellent moments on film (I recognize this as an obsolete cliche). They are majestic birds, and their wingspan is remarkable.

We rolled the visit to the public laundry into another walk through Benito Juarez Parque, although we took a different path that headed in a different direction. There are public art installments throughout and a playground in one corner that Antonio Banderas donated when he was here filming Once Upon a Time in Mexico.

On the way home, we stopped at the market for produce and then had lunch at home. Chris went back out in the afternoon to find the bus terminal and information about purchasing tickets for our day (and probably overnight) trips and I stayed in and did some reading and writing, choices which made both of us happy. We had tamales for dinner and now Chris is on the porch playing his guitar.

The day was a bit thin on plot, but we are on vacation.

Abierto vs. Cerrado

Up and out without breakfast and only time for cubiletes con queso and a cup of decaf to go in order to make our trolley tour of the city. We hadn't purchased tickets in advance and the tourism office where we learned of the tour appeared closed. When Chris went to check another travel agency to see if they sold tickets for the same tour, a girl approached me in the plaza and I practiced my rusty and not so trusty Spanish and, in a surprise move, was able to communicate with her. Well, I communicated with her well enough to determine that the office was abierto, not cerrado and that there was still tiempo to comprar the tickets. I don't think we could have discussed Kant, but I was still pleased.

The tour was in English and Spanish and the tour guide did a nice job of balancing, although when it was their turn the Spanish speakers on the trolley did seem to be laughing a whole lot more than the English speakers. I recommend the tour, however, because it was full of information about the architecture of the region which is breathtaking and largely from the 18th century and the guide pointed out original features compared to more contemporary ones and explained the social significance of many of the buildings we've been passing on our walks. We revisited Benito Juarez Parque on the tour and learned that it was the area in which the town was originally settled by two Franciscan monks and their dogs (who sniffed out the underground springs in the area and dug until water sprang from the earth), and today we noticed dozens of egrets in the tree tops within the park. It seemed anachronistic to see such large white birds flying in a cityscape: anachronistic but phenomenal. The tour continued higher and higher up in the city and deposited us at a vista from which we could see the entire metropolis below us and it was a stunning vantage.

On our way back to the beginning, the guide pointed out a market we hadn't been to yet and so Chris and I made our way there on foot at the conclusion of the tour. Seeing the produce, we decided on the spot to make soup and salsa and bought tomatillos, several different chiles, cilantro, carrots, cabbage, onion, garlic, celery, limes and more. We could have gotten four dozen perfect red roses and/or birds of paradise and/or a new belt and/or a cow's liver all in the same market, but we didn't. Instead, we snaked from doorway to doorway and found an artisan market behind the perishable one and wandered in and out of booths with more than even interesting people could imagine.

We had lunch out, around the corner from home, in a courtyard restaurant passing through the door of which seemed to transport us to another world entirely and then picked up some last minute items for our dinner feast, including a rotisserie chicken that came from a doorway in which there was nothing but a floor to ceiling built-in rotisserie with dozens of chickens roasting and dripping their fat onto a pile of onions and peppers a few of which the woman scraped into a bag with each chicken purchased.

Back home, Chris did a little research on the internet before making a spicy-hot tomatillo salsa in a mortar with a pestle and I threw the rest of our purchases into a pot to simmer for the afternoon. He played his guitar and uploaded photos, and I read until it was time for happy hour and we went around the corner for a drink (well, two, because of it being happy hour and all). I had a beer, but Chris ordered a margarita which turned out to be a glass of tequila with salt around the rim and possibly one lime squeezed into it. I'm still not sure if he thought that was a good thing or a bad thing, but I guess I'll know if he orders another one tomorrow. Our dinner was a success and a perfect combination: the salsa swirled into the soup really made it.

We don't have any sort of a plan for tomorrow, but I'm excited to make one with each new step we take.

A Charming Little Junkyard

We got a later start today for all the right reasons. We slept in and had a simple breakfast at home, although simple may be the wrong word. There isn't any skim milk in this world and so our cereal swam in what seemed like heavy cream. The first thing to catch our attention was within feet of our doorstep. Right around the corner from the casa is a junkyard; the man collects mostly used building materials: there are stacks of cement blocks and piles of wood and a very small shack-like building in front of which we've seen him sitting each time we've walked past. This morning, he was alone in his yard, eyes closed, head thrown back in reverence, listening to Ave Maria playing so loudly that everything else along the street seemed to stop making any noise of its own. Lovely.

We headed to the main square again to book a trolley tour of the city. While we are getting our bearings because Chris is good with a map and cares where he's at, the city sprawls and we thought a motor might help. Unfortunately, the shady lady we talked with yesterday who said we only needed to give her an hour's notice and she could find someone who spoke English to accompany us and translate wasn't actually able to do so today. We'll go tomorrow.

We tried to get back in the cathedral today, which we didn't go into yesterday because there was a mass going on each time we walked past, but there were back-to-back weddings today so again we didn't enter. We did sit in the square for a long time watching as one bridal party departed and another arrived and the wedding bands (mariachis) milled about and as florists switched out one set of lavish arrangements for another. The first wedding was rather subtle but the second was flashy: bright red floor length gowns on the bridesmaids with black bras and sheer black shawls. One of the girls had her hair streaked red to match the gowns. All of this may have been more interesting to me than to Chris but he's a sport.

There was a small church to the left of the cathedral which we did go in and this had a similar mural to the one I described yesterday. Chris took some pics of it and I'm sure he's putting them here. This church also had a statue of Judas and one of St. Divas, who I have never seen mentioned before but it is in keeping with the attention Calvary is paid in this area. I wouldn't even have known who he was except yesterday as I was describing the three crucifixions I wondered if I should know the names of the two criminals with whom Jesus was crucified and so checked online for their names. (I was relieved when I didn't recognize them at all; it made me feel like a less bad Catholic.)

As we have walked along the streets, I've been quite taken with the door knockers, which come in all shapes and sizes and simplicity and fantasy and so Chris has begun to photograph them for me. He has posted a few. Right now, the frog is my favorite, but we saw a lizard this evening that I think might beat it.

There are crosses and religious statues everywhere, embedded in the architecture, making me wonder if the original purpose for all of these buildings was different or whether it is simply a style. We have to find a Florinda to ask all of our questions!
Our interest is piqued so we climbed high in the city towards a chapel dedicated to Calvary but unfortunately it was closed today. We'll return. On the way back, we stopped for lunch at a little spot that was literally little: at best I would say 15 feet wide by 25 feet deep, including kitchen which was in the same room. There were two tables and we sat within arm's reach of the stove and our tortas and sopa were delicious.

We came back via the Benito Juarez Parque which is like Garfield Park Conservatory but outdoors. It goes on for blocks and the foliage is so lush and dense that the quiet makes it hard to believe that you are still in a city. Between there and home we found a little vegetable market that has what we will need to dine in and an ice cream shop that has what we will need to have ice cream whenever we want. Blackberry today; amaretto tomorrow.

I had an assignment due for my class today and so Chris made dinner while I begrudgingly read articles on the academic effects of having teens complete summer reading assignments. While it isn't my favorite thing to do in Mexico, at least I'm in Mexico. We had cucumbers with basil and blue cheese which were the perfect combination of sweet and salt and spaghetti and fresh bread. Chris played his guitar for a time on the porch until the rain came and now, I think, it is time for bed. Tomorrow we plan to do new things and more things and fun things and be happy.