After being here over a year, we finally managed to go to
the most recommended place that we have come across, San Miguel De
Allende. It is the one place that
natives and transplants have told us is a ‘must’. It is also the place with a strong ‘hate it’ or ‘love it’
attitude. Tonya’s best friend
constantly tells her to go there, even prods her to move there. “It’s bohemian, like you” is a common
statement…whatever that means.
I had already started to develop my own opinions about the
place even though I had never been.
Based on what I had heard and the most common feedback, I had a picture
painted on that giant canvas in my head, of what to expect and what not to
expect. The most common thing
heard about the joint is ‘gringos’.
Lots of retirees, and quite a magnet for Americans. I grimace at the thought. Just like an old timer, I look up what
the average temperatures are there, because I am tired of living in the
heat. I feel I am at odds already,
because old people like to live in the sun and warmth. It is a few degrees warmer than Mexico
City; so I am already building myself up to not like it. I can manage old folks, but not heat
and old folks.
In my research, I had taken an interest in smaller cities
and safety amidst all the drug-crazed murders happening on a daily basis in
this country. True, most are in
the north and tourist places, but I am a paranoid guy, so I looked into
it. As it happens, San Miguel is
no stranger to crime. There were 4
‘odd’ murders there last year, and three of the four happened around the same
time. This made me a bit
concerned, because the reported murders were all Americans. The ‘unexplained’ ones worried me most. The ex-marine found with a bag over his
head and stabbed over 30 times in his own home. The 41 year old shot 9 times and thrown out on the highway,
and then the other ‘older’ man found dead in his living room thought to be the
result to foul play.
The equation gets longer, and more worrisome. Retirees + heat + ‘odd’ murders aimed
at ‘gringos’. The natural sum of
all of this is “no fun”.
Still, the dogs have been sent to the dog sitter, and
Winston is along for the ride as we finally make our trek to what Conde Nast
had stated as one of the 10 best places to live in the world. San Miguel, here we come.
It only takes about 3 hours to drive from Mexico City
northwards, to San Miguel. We roll
in around 2pm. It is quaint. The streets are stone and the buildings
old. I like the looks of it as we
are driving down the main road into the heart of the town. “It’s hotter here,” Tonya says, and my
frail attempt at viewing this through of veil of denial is shattered into
millions of little pieces. As we get
to the bottom of the hill, the whole view changes. It is now hard to see what the town looks like because of
all the people. Lots of noticeably white people, wearing horrid ‘nature’
sandals with craggy bare feet, their toes overhanging the front of the soles,
gently kissing the stone streets. If
that is not a giveaway of tourist or retiree, the bad denim shorts are…as well
as the awful straw hats they are all wearing. Tonya and I look at one another and remain silent. The only words spoken are that of
asking directions.
We arrive at the hotel recommended by Tonya’s friend. They allow dogs, so that is where we
stay. Her friend warned us, “It’s
not nice, but its Ok”. Yes, as we park the car, it looks
“OK”. Tonya checks in and I haul
the bags to the room. As we open
the door, we are very pleasantly surprised. It is very OK.
We are happy with the room!
I plop down on the bed. It
looks like a bed, but feels more like a few layers of flatten cardboard boxes
on an old plank of wood. I tell
Tonya to sit. She does, and stares
at me like I just played a bad joke on her. The consensus is: the beds are less than desirable. Rather than worry about how the beds
will suit us, we are more concerned with getting food.
 |
| Typical street in the town. |
The closest place to eat is the hotel restaurant. It is an extensive menu for such a
small place, and there is no doubt who the food is aimed at either. We settle for the simple quesadillas
and some guacamole. The old couple
a few tables down are eating and talking to almost every other couple that
walks by. This is obviously a
place older folks from the States like to eat, and obviously it is already
apparent that everyone here knows everyone here. The old guy gets up to give a personal tip to his waitress
and is sporting some classic fashion items, like the blue striped seersucker
trousers and white collared short sleeve shirt. Next thing you know, he is standing next to our table and
chatting up a storm. His wife
walks over and starts in on the fun too.
This is our first introduction to life in San Miguel.
After eating we go back to rest a bit, and then head out for
some exploring. We don’t say much
as we stroll through the narrow streets.
We just turn and look at one another as the obvious outsiders stroll
past and the typical behavior is on parade. Things are a bit different up close. We have no idea where to go or what to
see. When Tonya asked her best
friend what to do there, she simply replied, “Go to the main square, and just
walk around”. We can see the
church steeple from way down the narrow streets, so we just make our way
towards that landmark.
We walk around the square and look at all the gringos and
Mexican tourists alike. We look
inside the cathedral, then make our way down some side streets gazing at this
and that. It seems like 8 out of
every day of the shops sells almost the same things. We keep going and do a giant loop around the main
points. As we decide to call it an
afternoon and go back and relax a bit, we see the obvious sign of
gentrification, Starbucks! We
laugh, but still go towards the eyesore and get a much needed boost of
caffeine. We sit outside on a
lovely patio and the sun beats down on us. We try not to whine too much about the difference in our
expectations and the reality of the real world. As we finish up and walk back to our hotel, we walk down the
standard issue ‘Insurgentes’ and I see a great old bar with actual worn out,
beat up swinging doors. The way
the sun is hitting it and the color of the building make for a great
picture. Then I notice a pigeon
walking on the pavement, zigzagging around the doorway as if he is stumbling
out after too many tequilas. Nice.
 |
| Tonya & Winston at the hotel. |
Back at the hotel the shoes come off and we plop down onto
the stiff, hard bed. I remind
Tonya about the commercial we had just seen, about how your mattress gains an
excess of pounds over the years from dead skin, mites, dust and all sorts of
stuff. This thing is ancient, so
the weight has surely doubled! The
TV comes on and we flip through channels as we lay back and relax.
As dusk is fully upon us, we decide we should make it out
again and do another stroll, and find somewhere to eat. Again, Tonya’s friend told us where not
to eat, but only said mentioned one restaurant to eat at. Obviously there are tons more, but we
set out to check out the place we were told of, Mamma Mia’s. I grimace at the name. It doesn’t sound very Mexican and the
one who recommended it to us is a vegetarian. I am highly skeptical of what lies ahead. It turns out that the place is on a side
street not far from the main cathedral.
Through a doorway and into a very nice patio…it sure looks OK. I am happy to see the menus, they serve
meat! We both order the same cut
of meat (arrachera) and anxiously await our dinner.
The meal was actually quite good, and the salsa served with
it was a nice touch too.
 |
| The cathedral at dusk...nice. |
When we leave the restaurant, we wonder aimlessly down the
street. The sun is setting and
everything is washed in pink and orange hues. A nice breeze has kicked up and it is noticeably cooler. This immediately puts us in a much
better mood. We mingle amongst
those in the square and watch a group of street performers in black knickers
with ribbons draped off their shoulders, as they dance and sing whatever
regional stuff they are from. They
are really good, and I really enjoy watching them. It is obvious this place takes on a whole other charm when
the sun begins to sink. Now, we
walk with smiles on our faces.
Tonya comments how this simple change in temperature and the sun setting
has her thinking differently of the town.
We wonder through more streets and it gets darker. The darker it gets, the more tiny fairy
lights began to twinkle. Street
vendors are out setting up their stalls for the night and the place is buzzing
with just as much energy as it was during the day, albeit a different kind of
energy. We are full now and
satisfied. It is nice walking
around and seeing the town’s personality after dark. This is definitely a clincher form this angle.
Back at the hotel, we let Winston out, kick our shoes off
and switch to full on relax mode.
We’re beat from the drive and wondering around in the heat…plus, we are
just happy to be away, to be somewhere different. It is nice to just relax.
In actuality, it is a bit difficult to relax when your
pillow is limp and paper thin, and serves as no cushioning from the garish
wrought iron sculpted headboard. I
steal the pillow form the other bed and try to make it serve as an extra
cushion for both Tonya and I. A
bit of traversing through the channels and we come to a film just starting up.
‘Leave it here. Let’s see what it
is”, says Tonya. ‘Midnight
Express’. Awesome. The perfect
film to see when you are a stranger in a strange land. Very comforting indeed. We prop ourselves up and grab a few
assorted bags of potato chips and get into it!
It is a decent length film, and after a few hours of
watching guys sweat, get beat up and get their heart broken, it is nice to
finally shut off the TV and hope for a nice rejuvenating nights sleep on a hard
bed with wafer thin pillows. The
ceiling fan control has a controller with the numbers 1-5 on it. However, no matter which one you
select, it is churning at full speed and wobbling because of the force. It will have to do. I pull the curtains closed and
carefully get myself into bed.
There was no clock handy, so I had no idea what time it was
when the fireworks started going off.
There were a few instances prior, when Winston had heard a noise outside
and would sit upright in full alert mode.
After a few moments, he would loosen up and cuddle back up with us. It wasn’t easy for him or myself to
relax with the booms going off. It
just makes me very nervous to be in Mexico in a small town, on a hard bed,
trying to relax and then hearing any sort of explosive sound echoing from outside. Certain sounds can make for a very nerve
racking experience.
To be continued...
