A Change in Diet

My ears were ringing one morning in May.

It was a quiet morning, and I could hear birds outside and the thump-thump-thump of a tennis game in Hamilton Park. But inside, all I could hear was a high squeal. In my head.

I promptly ignored this, after buying one of those ear-cleaning kits and trying that for a few days. I had way too much going on between closing the office, finishing my job, and re-tiling the bathroom floor. Ears were just going to have to be considered later. I didn't even manage to pay attention when I bashed my toe, so ear-ringing simply wasn't a priority.

It didn't stop, so on Friday, I went to the ENT in Hospital de la Fe. My appointment was at 11:30 AM, and I gave myself an hour to get there. I was still late, because I got lost. I took the bus, and missed my stop, overshot, and had to walk back. But couldn't figure out how to get to the hospital even though I could see it. Eventually, I found it, and ten minutes late, I stood outside Dr. Lillian Hernandez's office on the second floor.

"Marie?"

"Yes."

Sudden Afternoon Storm

It's the rainy season here and we haven't had much rain since my first week, so I'd kind of forgotten about it.

But today the rain kicked up with a vengeance. I happened to be out in my flip-flops and umbrella so the rain didn't bother me much today.

In the second photo, you can see the drainage pipes from the roofs at work. The water is spewed onto the street.

Again, good thing I had my umbrella.

The Gasman Cometh

I've been trying to get a recording of the gas man jingle all month, and this is the best I've done so far. Just ignore the image--it's easier to upload a video file than an audio file here.

He's like the ice cream man, driving his truck around the neighborhood and playing a song to let everyone know it's time to come get some of that tasty propane! 

Field Trip to Dolores Hidalgo and Pozos

The days are counting down to when my month here is over.

Already! I'm definitely not ready to leave. I've started looking at real estate listings and wondering if staying here for an extended period of time would be a good option for me.

Anyway, I have a few things to see still. I think I've given up on day trips to Guanajuato and Queretaro—I'm running out of time and it's good to have a reason to return—but I knew I had to see Dolores Hidalgo, which is the birthplace of Mexican independence and right down the road. That's an easy trip. All I'd have to do is catch the local jitney to the bus station, then hop on the next bus for the hour-ish ride to Dolores Hidalgo. What's to see there? The church. The zocalo. Some pottery factories. The exotic ice cream stand.

The lilac color creates the ultramarine glaze.

But I also wanted to see Pozos, an old mining town that nearly became a ghost town but now has a few thousand inhabitants. From Dolores Hidalgo, I'd have to take two buses. That was turning into a day of six buses and two jitneys.

Ugh. 

We all know I like a little inconvenience, but that sounded kind of unpleasant.

But when I'd done the local walking tour, it had finished in the library courtyard, where a man had handed me a flyer. Seems the library was launching field trips. And one of them was to Dolores Hidalgo and Pozos. Sixty bucks? But it's a fundraiser for the library.

So I signed up. "Your guide will pick you up at nine," said the woman who took my pesos.

Great. I only had to go out my front door to get a lift.

At quarter to nine, my cell phone chirped.

Brushes are made of squirrel tails

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Francisco, your guide for today."

"Hello," I replied to Francisco, my guide for today.

He paused.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

 "Hello, this is Francisco, your guide for today."

I kept quiet this time and waited to hear what he had to say. I hadn't intended to confuse him.

"I will be 10-15 minutes late to pick you up. So 9:10 or 9:15."

My doorbell rang at 9:10. I don't know how he knew which bell to ring. I bet he rang them all.

I went downstairs, hair still wet, and got into a red Suburban. Francisco drove me to a much swankier part of town than where I live and we picked up three other tourists, all friends.

We drove an hour to Dolores Hidalgo, along long straight roads running through fields of broccoli. Francisco showed the others where to get off the bus to go to the hot springs, and how they could take a walk to a small town on the way back. He explained we were going to a Talavera ceramics factory first in Dolores to see the process Dolores was famous for.

The factory was fascinating, but there's this.

"The pottery makers in this town are highly skilled," said Francisco.

"Francisco," I asked. "Does that mean they are paid well?"

He paused. "Sadly, for many, this is all they know how to do. They grew up in this town. Some of them get minimum wage, which in Mexico is per day. For some, maybe eight or ten dollars a day."

He later explained that while San Miguel de Allende is one of the most expensive places in Mexico to live, the higher minimum wage is in the cities. This is not SMA, at least where we are looking at ceramics, but while SMA is a beautiful place to live, it can be pretty tough for a Mexican who isn't rich to live there.

We took a long look at the gift shop, but there was no way for me to get any of this home since I had to fly a budget airline to the Yucatan (luggage restrictions) and then take buses along to Cancun.

If I ever renovate a non-Victorian, I'm coming down here in my car and filling it up with tile.

I did buy a donkey plate at a smaller shop we passed on the way to the church where Hidalgo had made his famous call for Mexican independence. We went inside to look around the church then tried various odd flavors of ice cream from a vendor on the corner of the square.

I tried spoonfuls of a type of butter pecan, coffee flavored, chocolate, avocado, rose petal, some kind of purple cactus flower, fruit, and a bunch of other stuff I've forgotten. I refused to try the octopus-and-shrimp.

"How did it taste," I asked the one guy who tried it. He made a face.

"It tasted like octopus and shrimp."

We drove on then to Pozos, for a delicious enchilada lunch in a lovely hotel, then checked out a storefront with indigenous instruments, then drove out to an old mine to take a look around.

I never could have seen that by public transport. This was a full day, but a good day.

After we dropped off the other tourists, Francisco drove me back to Animas.

"How do you think that went for the first trip?" He asked.

"First ever?" I was surprised.

"Well, I've done it before with a tour group, but this is the first one where I am volunteering with the library."

Excellent. I couldn't have been happier with it. I visited the library the next day to see when their next trip was. Unfortunately, the only other one running between now and when I depart was an overnight trip to Mexico City.

I'm sure that one will be great too.

More Island of the Dolls

Here are some photos of Isla de las Munecas, the Island of the Dolls I was trying to go to back in Mexico City.

These are by a local photo teacher. She's really the expert on this place. It's her fault I'm so interested in going. She showed me her book when I stopped by the photo center. Unfortunately, it's no longer in print and the used copies are way out of my price range. 

A Thorough Cleaning and a Little Texan Philosophy

I headed to the dentist for a cleaning today. Compared to Bangkok, the dentist here is expensive at about $47. But I could have sought out a cheaper one. Instead I went to one in the middle of the centro,  right behind the American Express local rep. She has a huge client base of expats. I decided it made more sense to just go to her instead of trying to find someone cheaper but without me having any recommendations. A guy I met in Cafe Contento the day I got sick told me lots of expats liked this dentist. His own dentist was a bit farther out and I'd have to take a bus or a taxi.

I don't have anything wrong with my teeth, and I did just get a cleaning in January in Bangkok, but I always like to take an opportunity for a teeth cleaning that doesn't set me back more than $150-200, like it does at home.

I had to wait a half-hour, though I arrived on time.

"I think she had an emergency," explained the garrulous Texan sitting in the waiting area with his wife.

His wife went in a minute later, and he continued to chat.

"I'm 78, she's 76, and at 50, we had all the energy to travel, now we have the money but no energy. Don't wait, retire when you're fifty!"

I had to laugh. Not only is retirement really not in the cards for me right now, but I haven't exactly put off traveling for when I can afford it.

A bit later, the dentist called me in.

The dentist, Dra. Alma Godinez, was great, if a bit over-the-top on the cleaning. She congratulated me on my good dental hygiene and went to town the way a hygienist does at home.

I think I've found a place to go if I ever need major dental work. Bangkok is still in play of course, as I've been going to that dental office since 2001, but San Miguel de Allende is a lot closer than Bangkok.

The dentist did say I needed to gargle with hydrogen peroxide for two days, and the reason in Spanish sounded a lot something was dead in my mouth. Like something-muerte. Hmmm. That was a bit worrying.

I bought a tiny container of agua oxigenada on the way home and hopes that would kill off whatever was dead in my mouth.

The End

We had a good run, me and the old job. I was surprised how long this continued, but it's over now. I put together the last issue on my laptop while complaining about screen real estate while having InDesign, Illustrator, and Acrobat open at once.

Being in Mexico has been a godsend as it's allowed me to focus on simple things like where to buy paper towels, and to forget about how my job of seven-and-a-half-years has vanished into the world of corporate politics and acquisitions, with a generous helping of Arab Spring thrown in.

But Don't Ask About the Smell of the Butcher Down the Block

Every day, I walk on the street I live on here in San Miguel. It's called Animas.

Sometimes I walk to the right out my door and sometimes the left. The left goes past the crafts market and vegetable market, while the right opens up other possibilities. I always end up passing the market in one direction of the other.

Which means turning the corner onto my street.

Where I am blasted daily with the rich smell of tortillas frying from the local tortilla factory. The exhaust blows out of this window right onto the sidewalk.

I've gotten used to the rich corn exhaust. I'll miss it when I got home.

Worst Action Figure Ever

No. Really?

An Economic Lesson

There's a fabric store in town, so I thought I'd check it out, see some Mexican fabric and whatnot.

There was some beautiful stuff, but ouch, too pricey! I was admiring this Mexican wrestler fabric but it came out to $24.50 a yard. Egads. That's nuts.

Then a friend of mine found it online in the States. It's not even Mexican! And it's only $11.29 a yard back home.

You might see some Mexican wrestler handbags come the holidays.