Category Archives: photography

photography, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

San Miguel is one giant living Christmas card

Walking Moppit the Philosopher Dog this morning and she was adamant about turning up Aldama as we left the main entrance to Parque Juarez here in San Miguel de Allende.

Normally we engage in a powerful battle of wills.

Moppit will want to go left when I want to turn right.

She wants to turn around and head home for a doggie treat while I want to press on for a few blocks more.

She wants to stop and sniff every pee-drenched corner when I don’t want to break the rhythm of my steps.

She wants to stop at Cafe Hortus for a croissant while I prefer walking over to Panina for a rosemary and raspberry scone.

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photography, San Miguel de Allende

Star light, star bright, see how you’ve survived into the morning light

A star fell from the heavens and landed in a pocket park in San Miguel de Allende,

Right behind the Parroquia de San Miguel Arcangel.

Crazy how people take such things in stride.

If a star had fallen anywhere else, people would have been looking for it on the five o’clock news.

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photography, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

Breakfast by the Jardine

They’re mostly gone now, the visitors, the tourists. Swept away by a late-season burst of rain and the chill in the air. Out with the marigolds and Catrinas and jacked-up prices — “make hay while the sun shines.” In with the hint of calm and solitude, if only for an eye-wink.

It is quiet for a moment. The so-called high season begins shortly, as the first dusting of snow transforms parts north and the occasional residents descend for the winter rounds of social gatherings, fine dining, concerts, and art exhibitions.

People coming and going in San Miguel are kind of like seasons all their own.

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Colonia San Antonio, photography, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

Catrina grand finale

Don’t go looking for her. She is gone. I’m glad I stopped to make her acquaintance before heading next door to Cafe Murmullo to meet friends for breakfast.

In the time it took me to down waffles piled high with blackberries and raspberries with a drizzle of strawberry compote and two cups of chai latte, she was gone.

Women like that, so fickle. Here one moment, big hat and bangles. Gone the next.

Maybe next year. Same time, same place?

I will wait for her. Grateful for what little time we had together. (About five minutes this morning, to be honest.)

Meanwhile, the murals remain, of course. In the entrance to Instituto Allende on Calle Ancha de San Antonio 22. And they are beautiful. Are they not? Stop by and peek in the door. Murals are meant to be seen and appreciated.

Catrinas, too. But their time is short.

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photography, Reviews, San Miguel de Allende

Gallery: The walking dead are nothing if not punctual … when it comes to a parade

Who ever heard of a parade starting on time in San Miguel de Allende? Well, ALMOST on time.

Last night’s official parade of the dead got off within 20 minutes of its announced time of 6 p.m. By our standards, that’s awfully good. And it caught a lot of Catrinas and Catrines by surprise.

The first band and mobs of gaily dressed skeletal creatures were out of the gate on Cardo like it was the Kentucky Derby and not Dia de Muertos. All of a sudden, a hundred bystanders with iPhones and Nikon cameras were scrambling down the Ancha to get ahead of the parade.

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photography, Writings

Gallery: San Miguel’s Night of the Catrinas – not quite a parade, definitely a promenade

Gaily costumed and made-up men and women just sort of filtered into the plaza last night in twos and fours. If there was a grand parade from any of the private Catrina parties around San Miguel de Allende, it was after I left.

By 8 p.m., I’d seen enough. And what I saw was delightful.

(Catch up with Thursday night’s official parade here.)

There were lots of traditional Catrinas and Catrines but there were spinoffs, too. Like the two cowboys, the bishop, the woman in the illuminated cape, and the tyrannosaurus rex. Yes, a dinosaur. It is just that kind of year.

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fiction, photography, Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende

Deals like this don’t grow on trees, you know

Great news! I’m breaking into the real estate business in San Miguel de Allende. Has to be easier and less-crowded than local foodie and influencer gigs.

Here’s my first offering: a modestly priced fixer-upper on the outer edge of the hot and trendy Colonia Guadalupe neighborhood. It is a mostly flat, — one, two three, four … — 10-minute walk to Centro. And we all know how incredibly important it is to walk to Centro.

Close to bus lines. Very, very close.

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Colonia San Antonio, photography, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

Re-birth of the Calla Lily

Late last night as the light drizzle kissed the courtyard foliage, a lone Calla Lily peeked its chaliced bloom through the broad green leaves.

It has been dormant for some time, so this was a delightful surprise as has been this late season rain.

The beaded drops upon the velvety white bloom were irresistible. As dark as the night happened to be, I had to risk taking a shot. It seems to have worked out okay.

I read that the Calla Lily in Mexico is associated with death and funerals and in Greek and Roman times with festivities. How appropriate as we approach Dia de Muertos. The flower’s symbolism serves our times and culture well.

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fiction, photography, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

She came with the house

She was in our house when we moved in five years ago. She’s been here much much longer than that. I venture to guess that she has been on this planet longer than we have.

She is an old-school Catrina. Her wide-brimmed chapeau with the enormous winged and flowered bow on top looks like the one José Guadalupe Posada, drew on his original “La Calavera Garbancera” back in 1910. So does the hairstyle.

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photography, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

Princess in the park

Tuesday evening the basketball courts in Parque Juarez thrummed and thumped with exuberant kids who shouted back and forth to teammates while jutting and cutting up and down the blue surface, looking for an open shot.

It was a different world next door at the stately old gazebo. A fairy tale was unfolding. Like all good princesses, she would allow only a tantalizing glimpse of her face. The air of mystery was exquisite.

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