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.
Give a child a paintbrush … and you’ll be wiping down walls for months.
Ah, but give a child a paintbrush and a mission and soon enough the child will be creating art.
On Sunday at Belles Artes, there was a whole lot of art going on. Two stories worth of bristling, carefree, happy kids unleashed into a crafty and colorful world of creativity.
Zara Fernandez, director of the Instituto Allende, stands before the site that will contain the Rodarte artist and artisan bazaar this weekend. Revenues from the bazaar help fund art teachers and art supplies sent out into the community.
“What goes around comes around.”
The expression has always carried a negative connotation. Long before Justin Timberlake grabbed the idiom by the tail and turned it into a hit song of bad love and betrayal with the help of Scarlett Johansson treating each other badly.
After a long night of parading, doing battle with the Devil, blowing off fireworks, celebrating the city’s namesake, and just all-around old-fashioned shoulder-rubbing with neighbors — what do San Miguelenses like to do the next day?
With all the celebrating going on in San Miguel this weekend, it is easy to forget that love is always in the air.
I submit these photographs as evidence.
These were all taken on Sunday morning before I’d even had breakfast. The peacocks sauntered over while I was having breakfast. In fact, they came up to a very large enclosure housing a quartet of finches.
The painting of a tiny Thai jungle village set against snow-tipped blue mountains in our casita has gained a full moon.
The moon wasn’t there yesterday.
And it was not there when Rose Alcantara acquired the painting on the island of Koh Samui, off Thailand, many many years ago. (She doesn’t want to think of how many.)
It is a charming and primitive scene of four red-tiled peaked-roof houses, painted in bright tropical colors. A red-dirt road curves through the settlement. Flowers of many colors encroach on the green grass yards, pushed in by the encroaching jungle. A rickety fence or two and an ancient wooden cart enhance the setting.
It is popular and entirely appropriate in San Miguel de Allende to say “You never know what’s behind a closed door.”
Entrances on San Miguel streets give you no hint at all as to what lies behind them.
The most humble of doors can open onto a garden of Eden, a fairyland, a small village, a rabbit warren of homes, a vast and empty park, a stately hacienda, ancient ruins, a private town square surrounded by stately homes, ageless and towering trees, private roads – well, whatever imagination and money can conjure.
Musings, Magic, San Miguel and More 