The Wonders of Leonor (Pt. 3)

I slept horribly, or should I say, I didn’t sleep.  There was a stupid cat in heat that was moaning all night, it then decided to trot around the roof and do its mating moans above where we lay.  The bed may have been ornate, but it was not long enough for me.  I had to sleep in a crouching position and could not stretch my legs.  I was uncomfortable.  Still, we got up opened the shutters and the big black cavern filled with light.  I could smell something good floating in the air.  I was anxious to see what was for breakfast.

Leonor greets us with a shining face and a big smile.  She is making paper thin sliced potatoes layered in eggs and a side of roasted peppers. Yummy, but the roasted peppers spell disaster for me.  She sets coffee down in front of us and asks how we slept.  I lie and say, “Great! You?”

“Oh, I slept very well.  I woke up at 4 and looked out the window.  The sky was beautiful, so clear” she says. “You know that bed you slept in once belonged to Lincoln” she adds as she is preparing breakfast. “I am not sure, because it was Manuel’s, but he said it belonged to Lincoln at one time”  Maybe I just slept in a little bit of history, but I know Lincoln was not as tall as me…otherwise he would have been a miserable guy for never getting a decent nights sleep.

Awesome breakfast in an awesome kitchen on a fantastic stove.

Breakfast is great (of course) and I go easy on the peppers but supplement with some bread.  Leonor asks what we would like to do.  We have no real plans, just snoop around and see what Guanajuato is all about.  We take our time and have a leisurely breakfast.  I ask Leonor if her maid is a good cook.  She doesn’t even answer, just shakes her head then blurts out a quick and sharp, “No. Can’t even cut an onion” She says she has to instruct her on what to do.  When Leonor is there, she is really an assistant in the kitchen.  We then get the complete story of her helpers and their family. When the food is nearly gone and after plenty of coffee and conversation, we decide we should get moving.  Just as before, Leonor is out the door with flying colors awaiting us to catch up.

We back out of the driveway and Leonor tells us that we will do a driving tour first. “I will take you through the mountains and around Guanajuato, so you can see it from above” Sounds good to me, I tell her to just tell me where to go.  We stop briefly at an old mine, and get out of the car to look out over the town. It’s beautiful.  The skies are bright blue and it is crisp outside.  As we look out over the town she tells us a brief bit of where we are standing and its history.  I take a few photos and quickly back into the car to see what else lies ahead.  As we twist through neighborhoods lining the mountains, Leonor says an architect friend of hers just built a small group of apartments here, “I don’t like it” she adds.  She is never afraid to say what she feels or call how she sees it.  The streets are small, and as we wind through one neighborhood we come to a halt.  The trash truck is emptying out a dumpster and there is no room to pass.  Even a cyclist stops and waits for a chance to squeeze by. 

We descend into a part of the city which has some truly wonderful architecture.  It is an area where Leonor says many professors and teachers live who teach at the University.  There are a few boutique hotels too. It looks incredible.  We wind through a large market, and Leonor tells us the history of the place as we sit in traffic. ‘It used to be like in Paris!” she says as she tells of how the market was ruined when made some purpose built area for it instead of it spread along the walkways.  As we drive through town, it is nearly impossible to find a straight street.  If it is straight, not for long.  You constantly turn and twist, go through tunnels and bridges between old houses.  The streets are narrow and this feels more like some Italian or French small town rather than the cradle of Mexico’s independence.  After winding through the narrow streets, Leonor points out a parking garage and we pull in.  I am taken back by the insistence that passengers must get out before you park.  According to Leonor, it is not uncommon.  I find a place almost immediately, squeeze in and make my way back down on foot to meet Leonor and Tonya.

The famous 'kissing alley'

We start walking and as we do, we are all smiles, and just cannot stop commenting on what a unique look and feel this place has.  To simply use the term ‘charming’ does not do it proper justice. It is amazing! It is freaky!  It is intoxicating!  Leonor leans in to me and says, “This.  This is real Mexico.  There is no faking it here.” and she laughs. Fine, all I know is I enjoy this so much.  We stop in a sweet shop, and Tonya goes nuts.  Around the corner is a famous spot where the alley is so narrow, the buildings almost touch.  You can kiss the person in the building across from you.  This is “Callejón del Beso” It is a famous spot and tourists line up in the alleyway like street to take photos of kissing one another below a balcony.  Students from the university do serenading here at certain times during the week.   We walk between the tightly packed homes and through the alleyways in complete awe.  It is like being in a brightly colored maze, and every so often the buildings part and open onto another square or fountain.  Undoubtedly the most amazing town I have seen in Mexico.

A view from the main square, looking up at El Pipila

After walking for a bit Leonor leads us into the main square of the town. “What’s the big deal with Don Quixote here?” I ask her.  She takes my arm, “Oh, I will have to sit down and explain that to you, we will do that”.  However, now she would like to rest a bit and says she will buy a paper and will chat with one of her friends.  We decide to go up to   a monument on a hill overlooking the center of town, El Pípila.  I read that from this point, you get a truly wonderful view of the town.  Leonor chooses a bench and says she will wait and do her thing and tells us to go ahead.  We do.  There is a cable car which takes people up the side of the mountain to the site.  We find its entrance and get into the little car.  There is one man and an Asian lady wearing a goofy hat standing inside.  We step in and the door shuts and the tiny glass car jerks its way into motion.  Both Tonya and the Asian lady have a look of fear on the face as we rise above the rooftops and look down to where we started from.  It is a simple and crude cable car and does not feel like the safest thing built.  We get out at the top, take a quick look and then back into the glass box for a frightening creep back down the mountain.  As we move slowly downwards Tonya whispers, “Can you imagine what would happen if this cable broke? Not pretty…”

View of Guanajuato from the Pipila.

We meet back up with Leonor and she introduces us to her friend.  As we sit together and talk, she spots another friend going into a nearby restaurant.  She gets her attention and we exchange another greeting.  The ladies talk for a few moments and catch up on some gossip.  One lady tells us of a good exhibit of arts and crafts not far away.  Leonor says we should go, and we disperse.  As we near the spot her other friend peels off to go where she needs to go.  We walk into the exhibition and after a quick round; Leonor shakes her head and says, “This is not good. Do you like it?” she asks us.  We both shake our heads.  She leads us back into the streets and winding to who knows where.  We stop at a few different squares and at each one, we get a story.  The first story Leonor tells is how she was in a bookstore one day and saw a grey-haired man that she just knew was a foreigner. “He was like Gregory Peck, but much older” she says.  She was so intrigued with the man that she walked over and tried to think of what to say to make for an introduction, “Are you waiting for someone?” she asked the man.  She laughs and says she felt so embarrassed, but only said the first things out of her mouth.  The man simply replied, “No”.  He said he lived there and was looking for books. Amazingly, he was also an architect.  He was originally from Bellingham Washington, and was there to lecture at the University. “I had to get him home to meet my husband. I knew immediately that they would get along so well” she says of the grey haired gentleman.  She talked to the man to find out where he was staying, then went back home to Manuel and told him that they had to head back to this small hotel immediately.  Manuel loved meeting new people, so he was excited to see who this would turn out to be.  The two men hit it off immediately.  They became good friends and one time when the stranger was invited back to their house, Manuel was having a heyday with him telling wild tales and just leading him on an array of adventures.  Sitting in their den Manuel abruptly stops the tale he’s unraveling and points at the stranger, ‘That chair that you sit in…it is the very chair that Pancho Villa was killed in!”  The stranger was aghast!  He was so taken back with the fact that he was sitting in such a famous chair.  Leonor is bent over with laughter as she says, “He did not know Manuel was teasing him.  Pancho Villa was gunned down in a car!  Manuel never had the heart to tell him that it was all in good fun”  Leonor says that the man was so proud to have met Manuel and to have sat in such a famous chair, that this one incident was a true highlight, and he repeated his story to all of his friends back home.

As we sit on a bench, Leonor asks if we should get a chicken for lunch or if she and Tonya should cook.  Before we can truly decide, Leonor orders us up and onwards.  She takes us through some alleys and into yet another square.  This one is odd, as on one side there are some green metal bleachers facing a church on the other side of the square.  I am stricken with the site of this square, as in the middle of it is a large cross with several bent posts sticking out from it.  “We will sit here.  Tim, I will now tell you about Don Quixote and Cervantes” Oddly enough, this small town is home to one of the largest, if not the largest, collection of Don Quixote drawings, paintings and oddities.  Once again, we get a full story and a very enlightening history on how this town became such a key place for Cervantes, and hosts a huge Cervantes festival every year. The Festival Internacional Cervantino.  She even explains why the torch posts are bent surrounding the cross.  “OK.  I think we should get a chicken for lunch” she says as she stands and is ready to move on.  Being with Leonor means that you will never have time to get bored.

(...continued)