You up for some photos of San Miguel while I think of something new to blog about?
This is how we sometimes feel the first time we head out into the public square after quarantining at home for 18 months. These two are currently hanging out in Parque Juarez, through Dia de Muertos.
She’s right, you know, my new friend from the housewarming party the other night: I haven’t written on the blog in a long time.
I owe you all an apology, if, indeed, you actually missed me.
If not, then, hi! Welcome (back) to my blog.
You know how these things happen — someone starts a blog and it goes great for a while, then a pandemic strikes, and life as we know it is suspended. So the writer begins writing interior monologues, surreal short stories, overly long recollections about that dream from last night, and, in the worst of cases, poetry.
A man and his donkey wait patiently in Parque Juarez on a Friday afternoon. There were several wedding parties vying for celebration space in the park this day. Each party arrives with its own mariachi band, a pair of dancing mojigangas, and a donkey bearing tequila.
Years later, the pandemic subsides and the writer realizes that the only way to keep the blog going is to again walk the streets looking for the magic, the occasional photo, and a decent story idea.
But, in a panic, the blogger realizes two things: One, that means going outside where hoards of visiting Texans and Floridians are walking around without masks, spewing their toxins in the air. And, two, at least 17 other people in town are now writing the same sort of blog.
As with all people held captive in their homes during a pandemic quarantine, the blogger now over-thinks everything. And is thus able to accomplish nothing.
You may have noticed that I am not even writing a blog post yet, although I’ve managed to type more than 200 words on this page.
My blog muscles have gone as flabby as the rest of me. Time for yoga for bloggers! Jogging the memory! Pushing pencils! Running at the mouth! Punching up the old vocabulary! Stretching two facts and a rumor into a blog post! Heavy lifting of quotes from other writers (with ab work, that is, attribution, of course)!
Of course, I need to ease into all this. I don’t want to pull a bad pun or tear a soliloquy.
At the Amapola Cafe & Brunch. You sit down for a cup of coffee, glance up, and there is a composition awaiting your attention. A little bit abstract; encompassing a little history, architecture, textures. Layers of dreams — fulfilled, in progress, as yet unrealized.
So, here’s the thing. Are you up for some nice pictures? I’m going to post a few here just to get back into shape. You may have seen some of these on Facebook, unless you unfollowed me because of my radical left ravings. Regardless, I think they look better on the blog, and, hey, no pictures of cats!
So, some pictures.
Maybe next time, I’ll actually think of something to say.
This is, of course, the Parroquia de San Miguel Arc Angel, the center and beating heart of the community. And the most-photographed image in all of San Miguel. You can see it, and photograph it from all directions and distances, and it always looks majestic. This image is modified a bit, but the colors are true — except for the sky. The sky is a bit over the top. I tell people that it is emotionally true to the actual image. This is what I feel when I see.
Nearly every morning, you can see hot air balloons floating over San Miguel de Allende. To catch one this low, just as the sun is rising over the hills is a treat. Mostly, they are little pin-pricks in the sky with no point of reference. I got lucky this day in Colonia San Antonio.
This is my favorite statue in all of San Miguel because I think hardly anyone ever notices it on its perch behind the Parroquia. It is up high and necks already ache from craning up toward the spires. Now people are walking down a tricky cobblestone side street, with eyes to the ground. I do not know its story — Dancing farmer? Singing poet? A mourner at a loved one’s grave? Mischievous fairy overlooking the city?
A little shop in Centro. I think it is a shop. I have never seen it open in three years. The windows are filled with tin soldiers and miniature furniture. In the morning, the rising sun sometimes hits the display with unusual effects, suggesting there is more going on. An almost operatic effect.The view from the restaurant at Tres Raices vineyard just outside of San Miguel de Allende. The grapes are harvested and a late-season rain is moving in.Doors and their hardware are the second-most popular thing to photograph in San Miguel. I like this one because it looks like someone tried to pick the more-modern lock but the old keyhole stood firm. A metaphor here? Anyone?And finally, an inscription from W.B. Yeats on the wall near the entrance to the Lifepath walkway, just off the Ancha. Such good advice.
Musings, Magic, San Miguel and More 