San Miguel, El Jardin again

1.14.08

Espresso (expresso!) recharge after a day of pounding the cobbles. We walked up up and up through the Callejon de Churro, up to the top for a view down the other side. Stone stairway upon stone stairway, the route would up past one grand hacienda after another. That's where the richies live. The views are stunning up there.

Before the climb began, we wandered through El Parque de Benito Juarez, part of it half demolished and under construction, the rest impeccably groomed and maintained, a riot of green even in the non-growing December season. I could only imagine what the place would be like in the middle of the spring or summer, all hacienda walls crawling with flowered vines and hovered over by hummingbirds. Under cloudy skies and with the gentlest of breeze blowing, it was a most pleasant stroll, a great way to kill a day.

That's the theme here: spending the time. We are agenda free, schedule less. We aim to relax, and that's just what we do. We wake when we feel like it, often with the scratching at the casita door by Emma the half-cataracted cocker spaniel. She comes in and hangs out while I make a cup of coffee and read a story by Dave Eggers or Michael Chabon and Cathy finishes off her sleep.

Then we go out for coffee and maybe some breakfast. We look at art, we look at churches, we sit on benches and watch people. We eat delicious Mexican food and we hang out. Around 4 or so I take a nap. Every day. Then we hit the roof for bubbly pink wine or beer and sunset. This is a routine I could live with.

At the top of the hill, off the sidewalk and back on the road, we stopped at a little storefront offering Tortas y Jugas. After much deliberation, C had the quesadillas and I the torta Argentina, a bolillo with chorizo, queso, y milanesa, a pounded and pan-cooked pork loin, I believe. Not so sure, but that's what it tasted like. Delicious. Absolutely delicious.

Then, of course, it was back to the casita for a nap. And so on.

San Miguel, El Jardin

1.11.08

The overnight travel was long. Gruelling in the way that medium-tough tasks can be when you're too tired to be efficient or all there. LAX is a nightmare of a place, huge lines, rude people, an all but total lack of signage. Terrible. But we got through and out and had an uneventful flight to Leon. I had a row of 3 seats to myself, and Cathy got stuck by a window inside a giant of a mom and her sneezy son who slept all over her.

The shuttle into San Miguel was also easy. My first ever experience of someone waiting outside the gate in an airport holding a sign with my name on it. It took us all the way to the hacienda on Correo in San Miguel. High wooden double doors press up against the narrow sidewalk lining the cobblestone street. Katie, the intern for our friend Derek's company, opened the huge wooden gate to us and led us inside. Hacienda indeed.

Inside the gate, an arched entryway holds the small Renault of the absent owners. Narrow double wooden doors on the left lead into the main house. Straight back, a bricked path between the house and the wall opposite, covered in planters whose donkey eared cedum cascade to the ground, leads through a beautiful lush garden, past a small man-made pond, to an open area of the courtyard, fronting the casita. It's a two-story structure with an iron spiral staircase leading to a set of double doors on the second floor.

Upstairs, inside, the quarters are small, simple, and immaculate. Floor and ceiling are tiled and bricked, the ceiling occasionally giving way to a thick carved glass brick serving as skylight. Bedroom, kitchen/dining area, bathroom. We'd be comfortable there for the week.


After a nap, I grabbed a Modelo and headed for the roof of the main house. Derek would arrive soon and I needed to let him in. The view up top was amazing, looking out over the rolling terrain of other rooftops of the city. Like this one, most have some sort of patio and seating and garden on the roof. In the distance, beyond the numerous church domes and spores, the city gives way to arid plans and then to hills jutting up from the valley floor. The bright colors of the buildings sit in contrast to the hazy, cloud-streaked sky and the dim hills beyond.

It's nice to be somewhere again. It's been too long since I last left the US, and even though I've not gone too far, it feels good to be gone.

San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, Mexico

We had this opportunity. Our friend Derek was to be house-sitting for one Richard Haas, at 59 Correo, in San Miguel de Allende. The house, or hacienda--or, more accurately, Haascienda, as the address plate reads--has in the back of its garden a casita, and the top floor was offered to us for a vacation residence.

We accepted.

So, on January 11th, we flew out of Boise on an evening flight for LAX. We'd spend 4 hours there before catching an overnighter to Leon, in the state of Guanajuato. From there, an hour and a half shuttle ride would bring us to the casita, where we'd spend a relaxing week away from winter.

LAX is something I wouldn't wish on anyone. Unruly, disorganized, loud, rude, filled with an endless series of the longest lines imaginable, it amazes me that this place doesn't just fall in on itself. It took us a while to get through, but we did, and eventually we made it to Mexico.

We've got loads of pictures, and they'll be up soon, along with the rest of the account of this trip. It was a pretty fantastic place, and we had a great time. More later.