Fuegos Artificiales

So maybe I should elaborate on what the town here is like. San Miguel is wonderful and ridiculous all at the same time. It is as picturesque as any place I've ever been in. Bright flowers bloom everywhere. The town's buildings are either old colonial stone or brightly painted concrete. The sky is almost invariably bright blue. As with everything, the pictures I've taken don't come close to doing the place justice. And then the ridiculous. San Miguel has a fair amount of expats living here (A 100% unconfirmed number I heard is 1 in 10 residents) and a large amount of tourism from America, Canada, and other countries. I think it would be entirely possible for someone who doesn't know a word of Spanish to happily live here. There is certainly a large number of the foreign residents who don't seem to have interest in learning the language and they appear to be liking their life here just fine. I heard San Miguel called the American Disneyland of Mexico, overrun with people to the point that real culture is stifled out. Some of that is true, most of it isn't.

The presence of a Starbucks in the city center and an Office Depot and Costco (called Mega) outside of town don't do much for the city's reputation. However, there is an incredible community of foreigners here who are doing a lot for the town. The weekly Que Pasa events calendar is dripping with cultural events. Singers, poetry, film festivals, art shows, workshops of all imaginable types, tons of charity events, cooking classes, Aztec dancers, Mexican mask gallery showings, anything and everything you could ever want is going on here. There was even a TEDx conference last year! In the past three days I've been to a fantastic play ( http://www.bibliotecasma.com/ ) and a classical music performance ( http://www.promusicasma.com/January2011_22and23.html ). I also witnessed a very exuberant firework show. More on that later. There is a FANTASTIC movie theater here that plays a new movie each night. I almost signed myself up for each and every movie being played this week. It compares to (and maybe even surpasses?) the Palm Theatre in San Luis Obispo, CA and Cinema Paradiso in Wanaka, New Zealand. No kidding.


And the food. The gringo population really loves its fine dining. Maybe the best food I've ever eaten is half a block away from my house. Seared ahi fit for a king. Ambrosia.

But for every hilltop neighborhood filled with foreigners living, there are streets that look as though the only American influence is the strange affinity Sanmiguelenses have for Hollister shirts. You don't have to go far off the beaten path to feel like the only foreigner in town. I'm finding more and more each day that the pro list outweighs any concerns I had for a lack of Mexican authenticity before coming here. The gringos have a handy habit of sticking to themselves so it isn't too hard to be separated from them when you want to be.

When it comes down to it, San Miguel is not the place to go for someone who is looking for complete immersion into the Mexican culture. You can definitely find that here, but I can guarantee that most everybody would also be sucked into all the other things going on. To fight that would be worthless and would rob you of the incredible experience the place has to offer.


Today was my first official day of language classes. Until now I've just been going to drop in classes three times a week. From here on out it will be 5 days a week intensive Spanish. Four hours a day Monday through Friday with an extra 2 hours every M, W, F. Wish me luck. I haven't had to be well rested for a school day in a year and a half, so last night I diligently went to bed early and set my alarm with the satisfaction of knowing I was going to get my full 8 hours of sleep. There was a little hang up, however, when the church a 1/4 mile from my room, the one that my wall of open screens looks out over, started setting off fireworks. At 4:41 am. For an hour. Complete with drums. I had been warned about the church's enthusiasm for early morning fireworks, but I don't think I fully understood what that meant until I experienced it.

Class was wonderful. My instructor is great, the students are all really enthusiastic to learn, I like the structure of the class, overall I'm really happy with it. That didn't stop me from playing hooky for the second round of today's class, which was a walking tour through the town. I got home with an hour and a half of free time before I had to go back to meet the tour, which flew by. When the time came, my "goodbye" to Bruce and Marsha ended in me deciding that spending quality time with them while lounging in the sun was more important than any old walking tour. I stand by that decision.

Arrival

The courtyard in my house for the next two months.

I decided to come to San Miguel after hearing that my mother and grandmother were planning a trip down here to see my grandma's brother and his lovely wife. There was very little to the decision process: I heard about the trip and promptly bought a ticket. My grandma and mom have traveled extensively together. The dynamic between the two of them while on those trips is perfect. It is a chance to see my grandmother when she is most carefree and at ease. Nobody fusses over anything, everybody laughs all the time, my grandma tells dirty jokes and (rightfully so) impresses everyone with her knowledge of the world and politics and she proves just exactly what a woman in her (now late) 80's can do. There are pictures and stories of her riding camels in Egypt, stooping beneath the low ceilings of Italian catacombs, beaming atop the Great Wall of China, sipping tea and clapping along to the performance of a whirling dervish in Turkey, the list goes on and on. The times my mom has had on trips with my grandma are some of her most cherished times with her mother. They can bring each other to tears of laughter reminiscing about illness, mishaps, and Three Stooges moments they've had through their travels. For years I had been wanting to travel in a Spanish speaking country, and suddenly I was presented with the opportunity to do that and start the trip off with my grandma and mom. It would have been foolish for me, recently unemployed after my summer job working in the Sierras had ended, with money in the bank and no solid plans for what to do next, to pass up the opportunity. The free flight from the award miles I had accrued on my United airlines credit card also helped. Actually all three of us had enough miles for free flights- not a bad deal.

Grams looking out over Mexico.

So here I am. Three generations of Reid/Raab/Dunbar women all flew down together on January 15th. After Mom and Grams leave, I'll be here with my mom's uncle Bruce and his wife, Marsha, until their two-month trip comes to an end on January 27th when they fly back to Port Townsend, Washington. I'll be here tentatively until March 15. In early February, Bruce and Marsha's neighbor is going to come and stay for two weeks, right at the end of her stay my sister, Roxy, and her boyfriend, Sean, are coming for a week. I'm really excited about their visit. I want so badly to share this place with other people. It's unbelievably beautiful.

Bruce and me in the courtyard right after arriving on the 15th.

During my time here alone I'll be taking Spanish classes and roping whoever I can into conversations with me. That's mostly limited to cab drivers, waiters, and people I find on the street. Yesterday I (very haltingly) chatted it up with a man, Juan, who was feeding pigeons near the city center. I was telling him about St. Mark's Basilica in Venice where the food they give the pigeons has something in it that prevents them from having offspring. Our Italian tour guide joked that Catholic pigeons on birth control aren't really all that Catholic after all. I'm not exactly sure whether that was an appropriate story, or whether it was even interesting for Juan to listen to, but he was great about it and talked with me for a long time about a variety of things that was mostly determined by what topics I had words in Spanish for.

Bruce and Marsha's house in San Miguel, which previously belonged to my grandmother's other brother, Bill, is unbelievable. In the interest of time (mine, not yours) I'll just post a part of the email I sent Roxy about it:

"Miss Roxanne,
Turns out this house is absolutely incredible. Really really nice. I can't wait for you to get here and see it. I had the impression that is was mostly cleared out since all of Bill's things were distributed to the relatives... that apparently was completely wrong. The house is beautiful, decorated with the art and furniture that was either too cumbersome to ship back to the States or not worth it. Bruce and Marsha have done a lot in sprucing the place up since they've had the house. It's beautiful. I was stunned when we walked in. I had no idea it was as big as it is (not huge but I had pictured a small little house, this is about the size of Mom and Dad's house). Like most of the houses here, you walk into the inner courtyard through a locked door. The courtyard is gorgeous. There are tons of plants and plenty of sun during the day. At night there are lots of those star-shaped lights that you can turn on. It's very romantic- just what I'm looking for while traveling alone. Through the courtyard are doors to the kitchen and to the living room. If you go through the living room or through the 1st floor bedroom you enter the second smaller courtyard. Maybe more like an atrium? The upstairs has a second bedroom with another sitting area and then a door that leads to my bedroom which is the smallest but I like it so much that I think I'll stay there once everyone leaves. One of the walls is just screens with a door that leads to the rooftop patio. The roof has a pretty good view, but also has a fair amount of buildings that overlook us, and definitely some buildings that have a straight shot view into my room... I try to change discreetly. I'm sitting there (here?) now and I can hear all the noises across the city. I don't think light sleepers would like it. The noises are mostly dogs barking, yelping, and howling, alarmingly loud church bells at alarmingly obscure hours, roosters, which I don't understand because it's past midnight, and a little bit of traffic noise. It's definitely the Mexican version of the street noise in Brooklyn. Everything in the house is decorated. Grandma can't get over it. She keeps saying "Everywhere I lay my eyes they find something beautiful." It's true, though. "This aint no shabby vacation home," as mom would say. Hahaha there was just the most stereotypical cat howl that came from down the street. Yeeeeooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwllll."

The courtyard when you first walk in from the street.

I'm pretty sure Mom became famous with the San Miguel street vendors. We did a fair amount of shopping in the five days they were here.