The Big Storm

I love the sense of changing weather, especially the hour before a big storm. A few nights ago around 9:00 pm the atmosphere changed dramatically as the air temperature rose and the constant high mountains winds stopped. I thought the normal rainy season 30 minute thrice weekly downpour was about to begin. Instead, rolls of thunder ushered in brilliant lightening bolts accross the sky and the wind roared as if we were at sea in the North Atlantic. Bilbo and I retreated from the rooftop terrace to wait out the storm when the whole house was enveloped with a deafening popping sound that really startled us. This was a granisu (hail) storm!

Casa Amistad has several large roof windows so the quarter sized hail made a wonderful racket that caused me concern that the wondows would be shattered. Bilbo and I found ourselves staring at each other in the dark house with my dog giving me that "I hate the sound of jet airbrakes look". Since there was nothing we could do, I made a snack of sliced apple and cheese and we sat down to watch the show. Waves of hail bounced around the rerrace and in the garden where I was certain few plants would survice. In 20 minutes it was over - the roof windows did not break and the ringing in my ears affirmed that the noise really had been powerful. We inspected the garden and found only a few large leafed plants with holes where the hail had penetrated.

The atmosphere changed again - this time the temperature dropped and the air felt and smelled crystal clear, and, of course, the moon illuminated with its special light. An after the big storm feeling make me feel I had arrived in a safe harbor. It was great. Bilbo and I found an extra blanket and went to bed.

The next morning I was anxious to talk about the storm with neighbors, but Mexicans don't seem to talk about the weather nearly as much as New Englanders do. Such storms occur a few times each year I was told, and are just to be lived through. I look forward to the next one.

The Dogs of San Miguel

Dogs are a big part of life in San Miguel. Most families have a "roof dog" that lives, of course, on the roof and barks at passers by. The barks warn the house owners that someone is near the house but the barking is so common, I doubt anyone pays much attention. One Gringo told me he complained to a Mexican neighbor about the noise and was asked, "Why do you listen so hard?" Personally, I am amazed that my ears are growing used to the sounds again, and I seldom notice the barking except from Negra next door whose bark echoes around in Casa Amistad's stone construction. I am in negotiations with my neighbor about this but I don't hold out much hope, partially because Bilbo and I like Negra and often ask her to walk with us for a play.

Roof dogs are not just watch animals and are much admired by their owners in most cases. I asked Jorge, the corner blacksmith, why there are so many dogs in San Miguel and how people feel about them. He explained that San Miguelese just like dogs, especially poodles, which explains why there are hundreds around the city. Jorge also told me about the founding of San Miguel and the role dogs played in it, and in various battles that swept through the region over the years.

The story goes that San Miguel was founded by thirsty dogs. Friar Juan de San Miguel had founded a mission in the mid-1500s in a river bed that, like many in central Mexico, had water only occasionally. One hot day, his beloved dogs wandered off and the Friar found them relaxing on the edge of a spring of sweet water. The Friar was so taken with the site that he moved his mission. Regarding dogs involved in later battle that whirled through San Miguel, the dogs barked long before city residents heard on coming soldiers, thus providing advance warning. So, dogs have a positive image in the stories that are still told in San Miguel.

Most noticeable is the wide variety of dogs even in my neighborhood. Starting in the late 1940s, GIs used their GI Bill education subsidies to study Spanish at the Instituto Allende while enjoying the sun, lifestyle, and pleasures of San Miguel. More than a few stayed on, formed an expatriate community, and contributed to the arts community that is still strong today. And they brought their dogs with them. Interbreeding with the local street dogs has produced some interesting and sometimes wonderful results. I have included a few pictures so you can see the results.

The nice thing is that once Bilbo and I established our regular pattern of walking, the neighborhood canines began to recognize us, the sound of our steps, and our smell and now give us a few barks of greeting. In a way, we feel welcome. I will join as a volunteer with the Sociadad Protectura Animales (Animal Shelter) and will be doing basic social skills training with dogs to increase their chances of adoption. So far, that means me learning how to avoid being bitten. Bilbo is looking forward to when there is an opening in a local canine play group that meets at a ranch outside of town.

St. Patrick's Battalion

I met Don Leonardo at a small function and he explained to me why I keep hearing bagpipes around San Miguel. Don Leonardo is a musician and a serious dance teacher and is about 70. I love the pipes and will never forget how much Laurie and I enjoyed the bagpipe festival we attended the first year we came to San Miguel. It was so odd to be high in the Mexico mountains watching Mexicans march around with bagpipes.

In 1846 the United States was assembling troops along its border with Mexico in anticipation of an invasion. At that time, the army ranks were filled with Irish and German recruits who were offered citizenship and benefits in return for service. The officer corps was primarily comprised on southern elites. The soldiers were mostly Catholic at a time of widespread anti-catholic sentiment in the US and were treated miserably with their officers. Brutality finally led to desertion - several hundred make their way into Mexico just before and during the Mexican-American War of 1848. The deserters were warmly welcomes into Catholic Mexico, offered land for service, and some were given officer status. These AWOL soldiers stayed together and formed Saint Patrick's Battalion.

They fought several actions against Zacary Taylor, and then Winfield Scott at the battle of Veracruz where many were captured. Scott ordered them branded or hung depending on when they deserted. Mexico sent a delegation asking for mercy as the soldiers were now Mexican citizens but Scott, who wanted publicity for a presidential run, refused and the sentences were carried out. The suvivors lived out their days in Mexico and is one reason why there are so many Irish related family names in Mexico.

Some members of the battalion formed an honor guard for fallen comrades at St Andrews Church in Mexico City. Later, they began to join in commerative ceremonies in San Miguel and voila - I hear bagpipes. This was Don Leonardo's response to my question.

Roast Chicken

Mexicans appear to love chicken in any form, but their favorite in this part of Mexico is rotisserie chicken. Little rotisserie shops are found in every neighborhood, sometimes several, and each has its own sauce recipe to attract their customers. Some of them use a green salsa, and others a picante pepper sause. Another puts on crushed garlic and lemon and is among my favorites. Pollo Felice makes a smoked BBQ style with a lemon/salt/chili sauce that is, well, sublime.

The chickens rotate 8 accross in tall ovens and the fat collects in a big bucket underneath and later sold to mix with animal feeds. You can order any portion size, but most people get a while chicken for the family at 50 Pesos or $5 US. For that, a customer gets a whole chicken, 10 tortias, a bag of green chilis, and a cup of the tienda's salsa. The Pollo seller chops the chicken up however you want it done, wraps it a bag and you are on your way.

Today I came accross a shop that serves small roast potatos and green string beans instead of tortias. I will make a small report with locations for visitors who may want to pursue this pleasure. Bilbo and I take our chicken to the courtyard in front of the San Juan de Dios church where there are nice shade trees. I get an orange flavored cold drink, and Bilbo drinks from the fountain. We like it because there are so many kids around from the school next door. We plan to take some longer walks to discover other nice places to eat rotesserie pollo.

Settling In

After working hard to get to San Miguel, I had trouble deciding what to do first. Bilbo helped by reminding me that he wants to walk at least four times each day. Fabian, the house manager's 8 year old son, got the job of walking and playing with Bilbo once a day. We went to a tienda (small store) together to buy a ball and then I gave him lessons in making Bilbo sit, lie down, wait, and come. Happily, Bilbo has not forgotten his Spanish and cooperated well, much to Fabian's delight. Fabian has an old portable CD player and loves his tunes, so the 40 Pesos he makes each week for this job is most welcome.

Next, I thought about eating. I started a no/low carbohydrate way of eating a few months ago and it has made a big and positive impact on my blood sugar numbers - they are normal for the most part and I am using 60% less insulin than before. Bilbo and I went off to San Juan de Dios market to look around and found that I will have no problem maintaining this diet here. Vegetables of very kind fill the aisles so I got some lettuce, green beans, and mushrooms. I also purchased walnuts, pecans, and almonds from the nuts man, and some local farm cheese from the lady who had a basket full of 1/2 pound balls. From the butcher I got sliced ham and some ground beef for Bilbo who is on a hunger strike, missing his familar bagged food from Vermont. In Mexico, you can buy any meat pounded flat - "milanese" style. I got some chicken to make for dinner. I wrapped the thin chicken around a portabello mushrooms after stuffing then with walnuts, italian spices, fresh basil, and farmer cheese and then baked them for 40 minutes. The flavor was GREAT, and narry a carbohydrate in sight.

A few days later I went to see Don Pedro Alvarez, a good eye doctor, to get my long awaited new glasses - the reward for having stable blood glucose. Sadly and surprisingly, he said glasses would not help me, and that the laser surgery I've had left me with permanent fuzzy vision. I confess, I was taken aback. Later that night, I went online and signed up for a vision improvement program for this kind of condition and am now in the fifth day of an eight week course of eye exercises. So far, my eyes feel more relaxed so that is nice. I can see well enough on the computer, but I have trouble with changes in plane when I walk, tripping on steps and in holes. The sight cane helps quite a bit but I am still getting my head around the idea that I may not see clearly again. Interestng to contemplate and I will remain positive until there is reason not to be.

The big news in San Miguel de Allende is that the city is elected as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO. This means there will be funding for traffic and tourism management, and for rehabilitation of historic buildings here and in Atontanilco, a nearby village where the Mexican revolution against Spain started. There was a big fireworks display during a light rain, and an evening parade. One of the protected cultural activities is the use of fireworks for neighborhood religious festivals about which there have been complaints by some visitors - that is now behind us, so bring some earplugs when you visit!

I am taking pictures as I wander around the city. If you want to see what is going on in San Miguel, go to www.portalsanmiguel.com Be in touch. Gracias.

Journey to San Miguel July 8, 2008

My vision deteriorated from diabetes so I trained my dog Bilbo as a service dog. We went to dog school where Bilbo learned he can have a treat put on each paw and then wait for a minute before eating them. We graduated and left for San Miguel on July 8, 2008 with my BB dressed in full service dog regalia including vest and photo ID tag purchased online and me with a professional treats sack and a sight cane to help with stairs. What a wonderful day it was.

We were seated at the bulkhead next to a couple with a 7 month old baby and my confidence waned as I wondered what Bilbo's response would be to a crying little one. Andrew behaved beautifully as so did Bilbo. As we took off, he put his head on my lap and sighed as we placed our faith in each other's hands. Once airborne, he stretched out at our feet. My seatmates were comfortable with this and petted him throughout the flight. I felt so fortunate. Bilbo slept and relaxed until landing when the jet's air brakes were deployed and then he decided the world was going to end. His worried expression was treated with a few pieces of dried chicken. So far so good.

At the Dallas/Fort Worth airport, we were picked up by one of those electric carts in which I have always wanted to ride. The pleasant driver never used his horn, favoring whistling, shouts, and a little bell to make way among the crowd. Three terminals away, we immediately boarded our flight to Leon and encountered our first problem. While not a tiny puddle jumper, it was a very small jet with little foot room. When we boarded, the wonderful flight attendant saw we would never fit into the assigned single seat and moved us to the bulkhead 2 seater, "asking" the occupant to move. Our seatmate was a Mexican woman invited Bilbo to share her foot space so he could lie down. Unfortunately, she wore a black dress and soon Bilbo's lovely yellow hair began to find and cling to her dress. She began to pick and pluck them, but it was a losing battle. Thankfully the flight attendant saw the struggle and offered to move my seatmate so Bilbo and I traveled in luxury. The flight attendant also helped me to fill out the Mexican immigration and customs documents even though I told her I was only visually impaired and not blind. This gave me my first insight into being a disabled person which would become an expanding theme during the trip.

At landing, I was asked to wait until all other passengers exited and then was fetched by a young ground assistant who escorted me, Bilbo, and 4 unaccompanied minor children. He treated us like a gaggle of ducks and dealt with me by taking the end of my cane and pulling me along even though I insisted I could see well enough except on stairs. Everyone in immigration admired Bilbo who took all this in with typical Labrador equanimity. The waiting passengers from the plane came over to over-praise Bilbo's superb guide dog skills thus reaffirming my belief in the power of uniforms. One lady told me she had made a provision in her will to give money to train service dogs. Another couple gave me their card and invited me to visit them in San Miguel and in Texas and Colorado where they also have houses.

The immigration officer stamped my long term residency permit a half dozen times and then extended his hand in welcome, touching my hand so I would know what he was doing. In the customs area, another man ran after us, asking for Bilbo's passport so my heart sank, but he only wanted the note prepared by our vet and was delighted that it was filled in completely. The customs officer pushed the green light button for me, checked nothing, and sent me through to be met by Alfredo Lopez who would pick us up.

My handler turned over the tip of my cane to Alfredo and the unaccompanied kids all gave Bilbo a hug goodbye. This had all taken 45 minutes and I saw that, unknown to me, Alfredo had 2 other passengers waiting with him to share the ride to San Miguel. My apology for the delay was met with hoots of no concern and they insisted Bilbo sit with them. Alfredo had no intention of letting him sit in the back and so put us both in the front with Bilbo almost in his lap. The couple, from Texas, was on the way to visit friends for a week of "margaritas". The husband was a life long stock broker who spent almost an hour explaining why the US economy is strong and will rebound from all its current travails. The couple went way out of their way to tell me of their distain for George Bush, and how disappointed are most Texans in his performance as president. The cause, perhaps, is that Bush is not a real Texan. They both put their faces close to Bilbo as they exited the vehicle in San Miguel so he could give them a lick. So interesting.

We arrived at Casa Amistad after 9 hours of travel during which Bilbo had not been able to pee, so he jumped out and took care of this just as a donkey was passing by but he was unfazed. Laura the part time house manager came out to greet us, as did Alicia, our neighbor, and seniora Augustina from down the street. I still had my cane so they all clucked with concern but were glad to hear my vision was not so bad and expressed the view that Bilbo was clearly the reason I had arrived safe. The group collectively took me by the elbow and we went inside where I was beguiled by the lovely colors of the house and the pleasant, cool air within.