It is that time of year. The skeletons in our closets find their way to the streets of San Miguel de Allende.
Not those skeletons.
These are more literal.
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Skull sessions
Tag Archives: Photos
Revelling in those wide open spaces
We once lived in a house that had a 360-degree view of San Miguel de Allende from the rooftop.
We still live in the house but the view is mostly gone.
In its place is a three-story condo project that wraps around the two sides facing Centro, the Parroquia, and the sunrise. It would be oppressive were it not for the chiffon yellow paint job. Chiffon yellow tends to soothe.
At any rate, this picture is not about that.
This picture was taken many blocks away on the top floor of the Posada de Las Monjas hotel on Calle Canal. Twice a week I climb the Escher–like staircases to the top to take Pilates. The walk to the studio is almost as grueling as the class. But obviously worth it.
And I’m not just saying that because the instructor is my wife, Rose Alcantara.
This is the view from the studio.
On Monday , we were expecting a late-season shower. The clouds to the West looked promising. They apparently had business elsewhere. All we got were sprinkles.
And a spectacular view.
Wall to wall art, as far as the eye can see
Art is best left to describe itself.
I’m a firm believer in that.
But I also believe you should let people know where they can find the cool stuff. This, for example.
The beauty of San Miguel de Allende is that you find art everywhere, often in the most unexpected places.
Especially murals.
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Lessons learned while slow-walking the West Highland Way
A long hike is never really over.
We finished walking Scotland’s West Highland Way on September 18. It is still very much on my mind and I suspect it will be hanging around.
There were lessons learned. Both about myself and the trail.
That’s really what it is mostly about in the end, isn’t it? Nobody walks – let’s call it 100 miles – and walks away not knowing something new about themselves.
Even if it is only whether or not you love toe socks.
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Evil is vanquished, it’s time to dance in San Miguel de Allende
This weekend has been a massive celebration of our community’s namesake, San Miguel, the archangel who drove the devil from heaven. We call it the battle of Good versus Evil.
There was a massive fireworks battle in the Jardin, with rockets shooting over the treetops — the forces of good on the Parroquia side and evil on the side that houses government offices. OK, the optics aren’t all that great for local government, but they must have signed off.
Fortunately, it was all symbolic.
Continue readingHiking the West Highland Way
There are many ways to hike Scotland’s often challenging 96-mile West Highland Way, between Milngavie and Fort William.
You can walk until you tire and pitch a tent. You can stay in posh hotels. You can stay in bunkrooms. You can stay in budget B&Bs. You can carry all your possessions in a backpack. You can have your luggage shipped to the next night’s lodging. You can dine in decent restaurants. You can eat in pubs. You can stock up on Ramen, fruit, and power bars at convenience stores.
One thing everyone has to do is walk the walk.
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Hiking the West Highland Way: Day 10, walking with the ghosts of Argyll’s army in the shadow of Ben Nevis
Long hikes through Scotland’s Highlands are hardly a new concept.
Why, as far back as 1654, the 1st Marquess of Montrose (James Graham) marched his 1,500 Royalist troops and Irish mercenaries 36 miles south to Inverlochy in 36 hours in knee-deep snow to surprise the larger and better-stationed troops of the 1st Marquess of Argyll (Archibald Campbell).
Montrose quickly routed Argyll’s men in the battle just north of Fort William — the end point of our West Highland Way trek — and chased them down this path to the spot where I am standing, about 7.5 miles south of Fort William. Argyll’s men were slaughtered, not so much in battle, but in retreat. Barely 400 of his 1,900 troops survived. Montrose lost less than a dozen.
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Hiking the West Highland Way: Day 9, conquering Devil’s Staircase — with Rose
The barmaid in the first pub you reach when you walk into Kinlochleven is keeping busy pulling drafts. Lots and lots of drafts. It is around 1:30 p.m. and the place is filled with hikers who already completed their 9.5 miles from Kingshouse.
There is a celebratory feel to the day’s finish, probably because one and all have conquered the steep switchback challenges of the Devil’s Staircase, the highest point along the entire West Highland Way.
They all have something else in common: Check-in time for lodgings all over Kinlochleven — as if by mandate — is 3 p.m. Hikers who aren’t filling the pub are sunning themselves in the nearby park, lounging on sidewalk benches, picking up supplies at the Co-op, or seeking other pubs and restaurants.
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Hiking the West Highland Way: Day 8, into the land of the gods via lochs, munros and moors
In Scotland, there are beinns and munros (hills and mountains). Hills are most anything below 3,000 feet and that is what we’ve been mostly skirting on the West Highland Way. They are impressive as you walk trails carved into their lower regions. They form majestic, sloping walls on either side of gentle glens.
Today we are heading into munro country but to reach it, we must cross 50 square miles of the Rannoch Moor, a boggy region of grasses and heather and scores of small ponds and lochanes. I don’t think anyone who wanders off across the moor would ever be heard from again. It is a beautiful and unforgiving place.
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Hiking the West Highland Way, Day 7: I’m no Ansel Adams
I spent way too much time in the Green Welly mega-plex yesterday. It is right next door to our hotel, The Tyndrum Inn, and among other enterprises, it offers two coin-op washing machines and a dryer. By the end of Day 6, I was badly in need of both.
Surprisingly, the machines were available — maybe because they are outdoors and the wind and rain were formidable or maybe because the bigger washing machine charges 10 pounds per load. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures — or maybe just digging in deep for some cash.
The washing machine quickly ate the money and refused to work. (That begs for a joke but I’ll refrain.) The shop’s maintenance man, Frank, was there in minutes and got my load spinning.
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Musings, Magic, San Miguel and More 