Dispatch From LA

Don't Drink Fountain Water

Today is Monday and I should have been in Spanish class, but instead I was here moving all of my photographs from the laptop to the desktop. This is an unpleasant task and fraught with confusion, tedium, missing folders, corrupt files, and lots of cursing. One word in particular said repeatedly over and over like a broken record. The cat possee took turns sitting on my shoulders and running their claws through my hair, swatting my feet under the desk, chewing on wires, and laying over the keyboard.

My neighbor’s Mexican gardners came by around noon and I had to fight the urge to tell them to put down their leaf blowers and tree trimmers and come sit on my porch for Spanish class that was starting in 5 minutes. They being the teachers of course and I being the student.

LA is cool and cloudy. I don’t have a set of french doors opening onto a courtyard with a gurgling fountain. There is no rooftop patio to stare up at the sky and watch the egrets flying over on their way to Benito Juarez Park. I haven’t heard a single firework. I miss the heat, the light, the purple trees, and most of all I miss the Mexican sky and bright edge of clouds on the horizon.

Tomorrow I will crack open the art journal and finish a few pages I started in San Miguel de Allende. I’ll also take a few photos of pages I finished in Mexico.

My body is back in California, but my mind is still sitting in El Jardin on a cool iron bench, listening to the bells or a guitar or the splashing of water in the fountains. My water sample made it back safe and sound. It has joined the other bottles up on my desktop. Tonight I’m going to sleep with it in my hand. Hopefully I won’t wake up in the middle of the night and drink it.

Epilogo

My last day in San Miguel. Carol left a few minutes ago. In about 5 hours my shuttle will be coming to fetch me. The same hombre that picked up my sister is picking me up. He's going to pick me up first so I can sit in the front seat and practice Spanish with him all the way to the airport. He eagerly agreed to this arrangement, but will probably regret it by the time he drops me off. No hay remedio. I must seize these opportunities when I can. Plus it will give me something to do instead of miss San Miguel de Allende. The missing always begin a few days BEFORE I stop walking around on these cobblestone streets, looking into the eyes of all these warm, beautiful people, walking under these lavander skies, feeling this hot delicious sun on my face, and dreaming deep into these cool Mexican nights. Yo salgo sabiendo regresare. Esta es la única manera que puedo hacerla.
Although, I have come at the busiest time of the year - Semana Santa - I have loved seeing the streets and restaurants filled with Mexicans from all over Mexico. San Miguel has a large ex-patriot community of Norte Americanos, but this is less apparent during Semana Santa.
This morning after breakfast Carol and I strolled through Benito Juarez park with it's wide winding paths and tall trees. I could poke around this lush park for hours and watch the squawking, moaning egrets flapping their enormous wings and rustling through the trees. The sounds they make are haunting and ridiculous at the same time. Blooming trees and flowering vines fill the sky with blossoms of deep red, orange, yellow, pink, and of course that bright purple of the Jacaranda. Large dogs who can't be bothered with leashes or owners gallop across the park chasing other dogs. The whole effect is wild and wonderous.
I share photos of many things on this my last day in Mexico: street scenes, religious pageantry from Good Friday and Holy Thursday, fellow students I especially liked from Spanish class, and of course the inimitable Alfredo. I'm deeply sorry for anyone who didn't have the pleasure of 2 weeks of Spanish lessons with him.

Atotonilco

Today in Spanish class my sister climbed under the table. Yes she did. I don't know why. She wouldn't tell me. The nice man sitting next to her didn't know either. He looked very concerned and bewildered at the same time. Alfredo is going to separate us tomorrow. When there are dos payasos malos in the same class sometimes this becomes necessary.

After class we went to Atotonilco to see the sanctuary and church. It is an important religious and historical shrine in Mexico. The walls are covered with frescos and poems. Then we went to La Gruta and spent the day in the blazing sunshine and brief yet lovely thundershowers of the afternoon. The pools of hot mineral water are very popular with visiting Mexicans from different parts of Mexico here for Semana Santa. If you decide to go, order the guacamole & naranjada mineral which you can eat outside while admiring all the lovely pots of flowers. My sister had a cerveza. She still won't tell me what she was doing under the table or why she stayed under it for several minutes.

Reflexive Verbs

Today in Spanish class we learned about reflexive verbs. Our reaction was not good. All of us felt like BURROS. Alfredo looked sorry that he even introduced the subject. We stumbled from class in confusion and pain. That's all.

Payasos Malos

Spanish class has heated up with the addition of my sister. Both of us are certain that Alfredo would prefer to wear a crown of thorns rather than have dos muy malo payasos like us in the same class, but what can be done?
Below a few pictures from excursions around town. Today we enjoyed the warm pool waters down the street with a nice family from Mexico City. We practiced our Spanish and they practiced their English. Regretably, Carol had just taken an unbelievably excellent picture of me executing a swan dive into the deep end of the pool when the camera fell into the water thus making it quite impossible to post that picture.
Tomorrow we are going to La Gruta after class to enjoy the healing properties of the hot mineral baths. I'll do my best to keep my sister from doing anything foolish on the bus ride there. Sometimes this is easier said than done. She's only been here for 48 hours and she's already broken a chair, spilled a 5 gallon water bottle all over the kitchen floor, and told the attendent at the pool that she couldn't wait to "get born" in the water. Who knows what she'll tell the bus driver tomorrow.

Visual Poetry

Strolling through the streets in the warm night air. Up and down narrow stone sidewalks to see fountain after fountain turned into altars. Homes with doors open wide to usher in visitors. It was a living breathing art exhibit - visual poetry. And at each stop kind people with edible treats to share. At one stop I was dished up handmade lemon sorbet and at another handed a sweet red popsicle. This is part of the custom. The altar's hosts also serve fruit drinks that symbolize the Virgin's tears. The images of the sorrowful virgin are surrounded by pre-Hispanic elements like carpets made of flower petals, seeds and grains. It was a lovely night and the moon nearly full. The altar visitations go on into the wee hours of the morning, but I started for home much earlier than that. The moon escorting me all the way back.

Without the use of my crop tool my hands feel tied. It's the tool I use most often and since I've been in Mexico my laptop allows me only to upload. I will post what I managed to photograph anyway. They are somewhat blurry with the slowed down shutter speed and my unsteady hand. Oh...and a few pages from the visual journal, begun in LA and completed here in San Miguel de Allende.

Viernes de los Altares

See this kind face? This face has many stories to tell. This is the face of a GOOD teacher. An infinitely patient teacher. A teacher who does not laugh at the terrible sentences I construct in class each day. A teacher who exclaims, "Exactamente!" when I say something correctly. MY teacher. Presento Alfredo.

In an hour I am leaving the house on a walk to see the many home altars which will be on display to honor La Virgen de Dolores. Some families have been erecting these special altars for over 100 years. They will be covered with flowers, oranges, chamomile, fennel, sprouting wheat and golden flags. Each herb, flower, and color has significance & holds deep meaning for San Miguel's residents. In addition to the altars the 48 fountains are cleaned and decorated with lilies, chamomile, crepe paper, and chains of fruit. I hope to take many photos which I will post tomorrow.

Descubrimientos

This is my idea of a good time. Discovering an 18th century former convent that is now a center for the arts. Finding a large unoccupied bench where I can write in my journal. Feeling the cool air inside these quiet old hallways. Going back onto the streets to see a lavendar sky and white pom-pom clouds. Touching all of these cold iron fixtures on my way home.

My Brain On Spanish

My brain is exploding with information. If you can translate these verb tenses I will have Music Man (who I spied sitting on a bench in el jardin this morning) travel by horse to your city to sing to you. Hablar, yo hablo, yo hable, yo hablaba, yo hablare, yo hablaria, yo hablara, que yo hable, hablado. My personal favorite is yo hablaba. See that burro in the photo above? That is my brain on Spanish. Which is why I needed not 1, but 2 drinks with lunch. Yes, I ordered them at the same time. Yes, they were good. No, I did not take pictures of the expression on the waiter's face when I ordered them. Yes, they made me feel better. In fact I have no doubt that tomorrow yo hablare mas mejor.

See that fountain below? I will collect water from it and bring it back to Los Angeles with me. Then I will put it in a special little glass bottle and label it: La agua de San Miguel de Allende. And when I look at it I will smile. Memories belong in bottles don't you think?

All of San Miguel de Allende is enveloped in a purple cloud because of these stunning Jacaranda trees in full bloom. The blossoms blanket the ground and splash this little town with the color purple. I pass them one by one on my way to Spanish class. It makes the uphill climb easier to manage.

My New Boyfriend

The Spanish school is housed in two lovely colonial homes with enormous central courtyards which have trees, benches, tables, pots filled with bright flowers and fountains. After taking a written test I was placed in a class with one other student and the teacher, Betty. Almost at once my classmate began to yak on and on in Spanish that was so poorly pronounced it literally hurt my ears. It wasn't just the pronunciation either, the poor woman had invented a language all her own filled with words that twisted and stuck together in complete and utter DISHARMONY. I stared, dumbfounded by the depth and breadth of her confusion. Betty blinked, but offered no assistance. She is apparently from the school of No Correction. Her teaching style seemed haphazard and vague. This is in sharp contrast to my teacher Soccoro from last year, who gently, but firmly insisted on correct pronunciation and definitely would have nipped the invented language bit in the bud. I wanted to help my classmate, but alas did not possess the equipment with which to save her. Finally at the end of two long hours I was released to go to my new teacher for the last hour. I will sum up the experience in two sentences. Betty sucks. Alfredo rocks the house! Within 20 minutes in the new classroom I decided I would switch to Betty for 1 hour and Alfredo for two hours. I've already paid for 3 hours per day of instruction for this week. I am at the stage of Spanish acquisition where I am stuck in present tense. There was no yesterday and is no tomorrow. But thanks to an hour with Alfredo my past is looking much brighter. Where Betty is a slice of white bread with the crust removed, Alfredo is a 10-grain whole wheat with rosemary & raisins. Next week Betty will be in my past. I am certain my sister will be eternally grateful that I have gotten this business of who is providing us with our Spanish education sorted out. After Spanish class I fell in love. I don't know any other way to put it. My new boyfriend is in his late 60's or perhaps early 70's and he is a singer and guitar player in the restaurant I went for lunch. I sat down, ordered my margarita on the rocks with plenty of salt and my fajitas de res con torillas harina, sat back and begain to fall. His voice was so rich, so deep, so melodic it filled the room with what I can only describe as LOVE. I smiled and clapped throughout my meal. Now it is sunset and I am on the rooftop terrace looking at a sky filled with gold light. Birds are chattering in the trees, I can hear someone sweeping in the street below, soon the bells will begin to ring out across the city as they do every hour. And I will be right here listening.

Fireworks & Hand Grenades

An unexpected downpour last night lasted all of an hour, but the accompanying thunder claps were the loudest I've ever heard. They shook the house and rattled the glass in all the window panes. It sounded like hand grenades and molotov cocktails were being thrown at the house. My face looked EXACTLY like the one above. Lightening & thunder rocketed through the sky. I wanted desperately to hide in the closet and throw a blanket over my head, but I had to dash up to the terrace to fetch some cushions & blankets dodging lightening bolts the whole way there and back. Oyvey. The worst part was gripping the IRON railing on the way down the water slicked stairs. In my mind I saw myself splayed out at the bottom one leg pointing west the other twisted up above my head.
AT 4:30 this morning Semana Santa started with a bang. Fireworks were set off across the city in preparation for the arrival of Nuestro Senor de la Columna - an enormous statue of a beaten and bloodied Christ that is carried into San Miguel de Allende from a small village 12 kilometers away. The statue is carried in silence during the early morning hours to the Church of San Juan de Dios and the streets are bedecked with purple and white papel picado, paper flowers, streamers, and all manner of decoration. I headed out early this morning in search of the church and like yesterday found myself walking through a neighborhood I had not visited before. I was nearly alone on the streets, but when I descended an extremely steep cobbled street there at the bottom were hundreds of Mexican families. I found a cement ledge to sit on and watched the goings on. Men dressed as Roman soldiers were acting out something on a stage far from where I was sitting. Several priests in purple robes were at the front. The entire scene was very cool. I will go back tomorrow or the next day to get a better look at the statue when there aren't throngs of people gathered.

Breakfast was next on my agenda: Pan de Frances El Correo style served with cinnamon sugar & syrup, fresh squeezed orange juice, strong coffee with a pitcher of hot milk. Ahhhhhhh after such dramatic activities and walking I enjoyed sitting in the cool dark cafe to write in my travel journal.
By 11 am I was back home for a siesta of couryard reading.
The maniacal look in my eye is a result of the vigorous walking, booming thunder from last night, and the morning sugar rush.
Tomorrow I begin my Spanish class from 9-12 for the next 2 weeks. Last year on my first day of class I showed up with my shirt on inside out and didn't notice until a couple of hours had passed. I looked down and noticed the buttons on my blouse were missing. No they weren't, they were on the inside. I will do my best to wipe the crazy look off my face, comb my hair, dress myself correctly, and appear in class looking like the serious student I am. You can only make a first impression once after all.

Capitulo Dos

This is what my day consisted of: walking, resting, writing in travel journal, walking, reading, much sitting on roof-top terrace, walking, exploring a new neighborhood I discovered, eating a big giant dripping chorizo con queso fundido Thing, napping, walking, unpacking art supplies and setting up the table to work in my visual journal. Wash rinse repeat.
At one point today when I opened the door to leave I walked right into the midst of these delightful fellows on their way to a gig.
In addition I watched a bizarre, yet pleasing, tango renactment of the song Roxanne sung in Spanish, witnessed a man on a bicycle toting lots and lots of eggs, saw a bird flying through a church, found a bright pink feather on the street, and was winked at by 100 year old man tottering down a narrow sidewalk. What did you do today?

Capitulo Uno - Of Dogs & Pilgrims

It is early morning. The sky is streaked with red and the air is blue and hazy. I can see the outlines of mountains in the distance and low clouds moving fast in the sky above us. Out in the fields that blur past my window are wild horses running and cows grazing among cactus. I see a small herd of tiny goats, then a small fire in a pit by the side of the road. We are not in a big rumbling van as I imagined, Freddy and I, but a tiny little economy car and I'm just being rocked to sleep by the bumps and the swerves of the road and the surreal atmosphere when he turns around to me in the backseat and says loudly, earnestly, "Today I see a lot of pilgrims." And right then coming into focus between my half-closed eyes, on the road ahead of us is a group of 30 or more men carrying banners and chanting, heads down, solemn, carrying rosaries, and other religious relics I've never seen. They are young & old, some wear bandannas that cover their faces just below their eyes. And they are trudging forward on their pilgrimmage to a small village 60 miles ahead. They will walk and rest, walk and rest, stop, sleep by the road, eat, then continue on Freddy tells me. The road is empty except for these men and us. Freddy stops out of respect. It's a solemn moment our car idling behind the group of men. He stops for 5 then 10 minutes and finally slowly, slowly passes the pilgrims. I'm wide awake now, but feel like I'm dreaming. I snap the picture quickly not wanting to interfere or be noticed.
20 miles down the road I'm drifting off again when Freddy turns towards me again in the back, "Lambs!" He says excitedly. I can see their creamy wooly shapes coming towards us, a little herd of sheep right on the road. But they aren't sheep! They are a pack of 15 or so assorted dogs and they look friendly. Tongues hanging out, trotting along, tails held high. "A DOG pilgrimmage! I practically scream, amazed with my cleverness, but alas am not fast enough to grab the camera. Freddy laughs and laughs and keeps repeating "dog pilgrimmage" over and over and shaking his head, smiling. And on we go to San Miguel.

The rooftop of the house is lovely. I will share some of the beautiful things that surround me up here. Not too many long shots because when my sister arrives in a week I want her to gasp like I did when she sees the whole roof layed out in all of it's basking glory. I am up here now typing this and adding each picture one by one.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Do you think that on the day before I leave on a 2 week trip out of the country I should spend all morning and half the afternoon pruning my rose bushes, pulling grass & weeds, fertilizing my hibiscus, shearing my HUGE mounds of red feather grass, planting flax, and starting a new succulent planting area? All in my bedroom slippers and pajama bottoms? My bags aren’t packed and I’m not ready to go, but I AM leaving on a jet plane tomorrow night. The red-eye flight. I will arrive in Leon, Mexico bright eyed and bushy tailed on Friday morning in the pre-dawn hours. A tall strapping Mexican fellow will be waiting for me, holding a sign with my name on it. And then he’ll grab my suitcases in his strong capeable hands, give me a wink, and whisk me off. Away we’ll go in our breezy van, 100 m.p.h. down the blueish 2-lane highway the rising sun chasing us all the way to San Miguel. He may stop along the way and ask if I wish to stop for some refreshments at a roadside stand (as was the case on my last shuttle ride in Mexico). We will pass many dogs and donkeys on our lovely ride across the Mexican highlands. Then in about an hour we will arrive here to this lovely jewel. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh......... Oh. I have to pack first. There is much packing to be done. I’m going to snap out of this daydream at once and pack. I’m going to pack for all I’m worth and then I will pack some more. Nothing must be forgotten. No underpants unaccounted for, no journals misplaced, not a single pen missed, and oh DO NOT forget the scorpion repellent. Or the antidote. Everything will be packed. Nothing will be left behind except the sad cat posse, their heads hung low, their whiskers still, tails drooping. Finally, photos of what I was doing when I should have been packing. And a last completed photo of the travel journal. Oh.....and mailart from my blue-haired friend whose Fed-Exed package arrived in a happy bundle on my doorstep.

San Miguel de Allende

In between bouts of spraypainting, working in my visual journal, napping, reading, working briefly in the garden I am taking a break from my leisurely schedule to add a short post with some pictures of San Miguel that I took last year. Looking through the photos from last year and finding some to share is making my heart race. I love this place like it were a person. Wanna know what else I love? Listening to James Blunt's CD Back to Bedlam which I'm doing RIGHT NOW. I like to imagine he's singing You're Beautiful to me. I do feel lovely with my spraypaint manicure, spray adhesive in my hair, smudged badly stenciled t-shirt, lopsided grin, and wild look in my eye. I just noticed the CD cover has the songs listed on the back in a v.v.v. cool font. Hmmmm...wonder where I could get a cool alphabet stencil with that exact font? Yep, the spraypaint bug has bitten. HARD. Journal page post coming tonight.

About the house...I stayed here last year. All the rooms have these amazing boveda ceilings with big old iron/glass skylights that let the sunlight & moonlight pour down into the house. The most important thing is the dining room table where I can spread out my visual journal & supplies. 17 days.