Starting on Fridays and lasting til Sundays San Miguel fills up with tourists. And I don't mean the usual ones who are always here. I mean the Mexicans who come for the weekend from Queretaro, Leon, Mexico City. El Jardin (the center of the center) becomes dense with men, women, and children strolling in every direction. Vendors selling balloons in the shape of rockets; all manner of sweets, corns, fruits, ice-cream; bands of mariachis in black suits with studded pants; teenagers meeting and flirting; humangous paper-mache figures ambling slowly; donkeys covered in flowers stand near the church for photo opportunities; music and voices mingling and rising above the tree canopy. It's a party every weekend well into the night. Traffic, as a result, becomes a nightmare. The insanely narrow streets clog up with cars and buses going in opposite directions.
Two nights ago, as we were sauntering to our dinner destination, we witnessed two buses poised opposite a long line of cars. Half of the street was closed due to construction. Which meant there was only one narrow lane to navigate for both directions of traffic. No one was budging. There was no place to go sideways and escape. Someone had to relent and move backwards. Claire took up the job of directing the traffic. Slowly the cars began to reverse and ran into the cross street behind them also clogged up. A couple of bikers almost slammed into one of the cars. Finally a policeman ran from wherever he was and started blowing his whistle and gesturing to cars and buses. Gradually the orderly movement of vehicles was restored. Our duty done, we continued on to our supper.
Saturday is here and I know downtown will be a mad house again, not to mention Sunday. The taxi driver last night commented on my observation of heavy traffic: Esto no es nada (This is nothing). His wry humor continued through our ride back home. When I translated for Claire what he said, he asked: Usted es la interprete? (Are you the interpreter?) I laughed and agreed. Debe ganar bien (You must make good money). I chuckled and replied: Lo hago por la gloria (I do it for the glory). When we approached the house he saw all the big flower pots lined up atop the wall with cacti and commented: Les hacen falta algunas macetas (You need some flower pots). There are certainly many of them, perhaps too many.
Tomorrow Lin, the landlord, and we are going to an art opening outside the city. She promised a delightful time and an unusual experience. I'll let you know on Monday.
This Tuesday morning the sun shines as always. Every day is sunny, not necessarily very warm, but sunny. Right now - at 9 a.m. - the temp is 48 degrees F. I wear all my clothes like the Marx Brothers. Later it goes up to the 80s. And I shed them.
One of the other things I like to do when I travel (besides go to supermarkets) is to go to the movies in other towns, other countries. The Cinemex is in La Luciernaga mall, near the house.
We saw The Wolf of Wall Street yesterday. By mistake. We thought we were going to see The Book Thief but the usher sent us to the wrong cinema. We stayed. The world depicted in The Wolf is filled with drugs, debauchery, greed, excess, lies, not to mention fraud. At first - when I realized it was the wrong movie - I wanted to leave and find the right one, but I stayed because David wanted to stay. I became more comfortable with all the cursing and sex and drugs; nevertheless, I left with a sense of overflowing disgust. These are the people that manage our finances? What kind of world do we live in? Don't answer. It's a rhetorical question. Besides all that, it's a freaking long movie. Three hours! Three hours of the same stuff over and over. I have mixed feelings about the virtue of making such films and showing the underbelly of the financial world. Are we glorifying that kind of life? Beautiful cars, grand houses and yachts, expensive clothes - all at the cost of the common man (and woman). Does every little boy and girl want to be like Jordan Belfort now? Or does the film turn them off such choices? It's a toss up.
On a more joyous note, I spent the day reading and writing, after Irma left in the morning to go back to Mexico City. We discovered a Russian cafe nearby where I had crepas de pollo and David ate a mushroom omelette. In the evening we watched a bit of the Olympics and went to bed, not before reading for a while.
This Tuesday morning I hear distant dogs barking, the song of the vermilion flycatcher outside the window, the downstairs neighbor making breakfast. This afternoon we'll go to the Biblioteca for another lecture on birding, and later a talk about Molly Bloom. We don't go to town often. In past years we stayed downtown, we had no choice. Now we have to take a bus or a taxi. Besides the house is comfortable, the surroundings open and quiet. And I want to write.
Good morning! I am back. I've decided to take the weekends off from writing.
Saturday afternoon Irma arrived; we sat on the rooftop deck sipping wine and catching up. The sun was warm. In the evening we went to dinner to Berlin, a sort-of German restaurant downtown. The food was good, the wine too, but one other customer annoyed us to no end. An older woman who spoke loudly and seemed drunk. Eventually David became angry and yelled at her, I said some things, her companions got involved, and then they all left. We had crepes for dessert and left too. This is the second time we are confronted with loud speaking "gringos" who make our dinners unpleasant. What is it with these people? And if you tell them - like we do - they say things like "this is Mexico," "relax," "don't be so uptight," etc. etc. I wonder how the locals put up with them. Irma suggested we don't go to the restaurants they frequent. I suppose that's a possibility.
Sunday we strolled in the Botanic Gardens and did some bird watching. We saw an avocet, a whole bunch of Mexican mallards, vermilion flycatchers, and apparently a coot (although I couldn't find it). The cacti are not in bloom yet. Lunch was at the garden cafe before returning home to read, nap, rest. In the evening our downstairs neighbors invited us for cocktails and off we went. Irma gave them tips on what to see in Mexico City where they're going next week. Later I made supper at home and we watched the Olympics for a while before going to bed.
This morning Irma left and I am back at my computer, writing, composing, feeling productive. I miss it if I don't do it for a few days, now that I've gotten in the rhythm of things. That's why routines are useful. Decide when and for how long you'll write and sit down and do it, or stare at the screen for however long you decided. Eventually something will happen. And if nothing comes out, just free write nonsense. Something is bound to be good and usable. I promise you.
