It’s been a year since I last saw San Miguel de Allende and
not much has changed. I discovered that I haven't either. Due to my
Spanish language skills that are still best described as terrible despite the
tapes I've been parroting for months, I boggled bus connections and found
myself trundling my wheelie down dark but familiar streets at ten o'clock at
night. I went to a small cafe for breakfast with a Mexican girl from my
hostel who was practicing her English on me while coaching me in Spanish. A
well-dressed Mexican man stopped at our table to tell me how amused he was
listening to me misinterpret her. He softened the blow a bit by telling me he
was pleased that I was trying to learn the culture. How embarrassing.
 |
| It's impossible to take too many pictures of this cathedral. |
Life
still goes on in the Plaza Principal under the neo-Gothic "wedding
cake" spires of the Parroquia de San Miguel Archangel Cathedral. People
gather, especially on the weekends when all the hawkers and beggars come into
town. No matter, every town has them and I even have favorites. One is an older
woman with one leg amputated below the knee who saws away energetically at her
harmonica every time anyone passes. She is terrible but I feel that if she has
the guts to put it out there she certainly deserves my pesos. On a regular
basis the nighttime square activities include real musicians, men in their
tight black outfits, braided to the hilt, that play traditional Mexican music.
Let us not forget the ex pats on the benches facing the cathedral and the
lovers heating up any empty bench they can find.
A young American I met at the bus station in Queretero told
me about the graffiti that was mucking up the Guadelupe neighborhood in SMA.
Since this is a town with a tradition in fine art, it only made sense to
improve the neighborhood by giving these young scribblers some real art
lessons. So they did and the results are impressive. I've tried to get more
information about the project but have had little luck. I was told later by an artist from Guanajuato, that this story is not true because these street painters were already artists. One never knows what to believe.
