I’ve said it before: You want magic in San Miguel de Allende? Then just step out your front door.
Today, it was the arrival of the procession honoring Our Lady of Guadalupe. The cavalcade of the holy and horses turned onto Callejon San Antonio at noon sharp and proceeded to walk in stops and starts toward the Parroquia de San Antonio de Padua.
Progress was halting because there were hundreds of people attempting to fill the already busy square for the celebration of the Mass.
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My name is … well, never mind my name.
Just know that I walk these cobblestone streets and … I see things.
Things I can’t explain. Things that need no explanation. Things that are new to me but are as old as time. Things that are marked down 20 percent for this day only. Things that are here today and gone tomorrow, probably back to the United States. Things that say something. Things that have nothing to say but will buy you a drink, just for the company. Things that I find interesting but my dog doesn’t.
You know, things.
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Sometimes you just have to get out there and walk. Anywhere will do. Just walk.
Most mornings, that’s me walking Moppit, struggling for control over the master/pet dynamic with a willful and intelligent opponent.
I want to go left, she wants to go right. We both freeze in our tracks and engage in a game of blink, staring into each other’s eyes with fiercely competitive stares. It is Moppit who decides when she’s had enough of this walking nonsense and communicates her desire by sitting firmly on her tush. It is Moppit who sets the pace, decides what needs to be sniffed or peed upon. For my every step forward, she executes a complex zigzag pattern worthy of her genetic heritage.
She is a sniffer, a searcher, a chaser, a marker of vast territory.
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What could be more romantic than a carriage pulled by two black steeds, ready to whisk away the new bride and groom?
If it is Saturday, there are weddings to be had at the Parroquia de San Miguel in Centro.
Wedding parties are stacked up like planes over O’Hare, waiting to touch down in the gaudy sanctuary for their moment of nuptualism.
Yet, there is no assembly line feel to all this. Continue reading
Riders paused in front of the Parroquia for prayers, selfies, regrouping, and socializing before riding out of town.
Hundreds of cowboys and cowgirls have come to town for the blessings of the church on riders and their mounts on Friday, Nov. 8 around 5 p.m. More riders may gallop through Centro on Saturday.
They are celebrating the feast of St. Martin, patron saint of horse riders. Continue reading
Beside the Parroquia de San Miguel Arcangel today, a stunning Mexican senorita stood regally, poised between a mule skinner and a cowboy. Her flowing crimson gown was equally a match to her own beauty and that of the Parroquia.
Had we stepped back in time? Was there a movie being shot?
A fashion shoot, at the least. Maybe the cover of a glossy magazine extolling tourists to visit old Mexico, through magical San Miguel de Allende. Continue reading
Musings, Magic, San Miguel and More 