ALMOST UNDER THE VOLCANO

The hailstorm that decimated the bougainvillea also shredded the purple flowers of the mexican bush sage, salvia leucantha, growing with the jasmine on the terrace.    So this morning I have just had to cut back all the straggly stems and now I fear there are not enough left to attract the hummingbirds.    I probably would have pruned the salvia next month anyway but I love watching the little colibris shimmering among the flowers collecting nectar with their long beaks - and some are so small that they could be irridescent butterflies flitting from flower to flower.    

And the oleander on the lower terrace has been getting a bit wild leaning over the balcony so now I have pruned that too.

See you on the ice at 5.      Who keeps saying that?     The hailstones returned yesterday …at 4.     Fortunately only for a few seconds in the middle of the afternoon rainstorm.     Not enough to block the drains and destroy whole gardens.      And not enough to destroy the Concurso …on the ice at 6.   

Being five and a half thousand miles away, as a new day starts in England tomorrow we are still enjoying today yesterday.    Or something like that.   So part of my entry for today will be about yesterday which happened today but when today was tomorrow.     Mmmmm. 

Last night in La Pergola at the Instituto Allende they held a Concurso de Margaritas - a competition to find the best margarita in town.      All in aid of charity of course.    Local bars and restaurants sent along their best efforts and we were entreated to sample them all.    The classic margarita is tequila, triple sec and lime juice.    Usually served with salt on the rim of the glass and …on ice.    It was apparently invented in the thirties and the proportions then were 1:1:1 (33% of each ingredient) but now the international bartenders association says a margarita should contain twice as much tequila - good for them.

There are dozens of margarita variations and at the Concurso we could try everything from the Cadillac or Royal margarita which contains Grand Marnier rather than triple sec to the margaritas created using other fruits instead of lime.   And last night they gave us tamarindo, sandia, mango, piña, granada, garambullo and tuna (from the cactus not the sea).   Casa Payo seemed to be offering chocolate margaritas which were not really margaritas at all (but were amazingly delicious).     I voted for Bacco’s margarita which had quite a zing and was made using the root of the heliopsis plant and is supposed to be medicinal - of course.    

But I could not wait for the results and I hurried back through the Jardin where the mariachi bands were playing and fireworks were going off to celebrate the festival of Santo Domingo - they did not realise it was almost dawn in England …and they were already part of tomorrow.      

Twenty years ago on the eighth of the eighth eighty-eight my eldest son was about to be eight years old.    We were having a discussion about it and I may have sounded disappointed and then he said - oh but Mum it’s even better, because I am going to be eight eight days after the eighth of the eighth eighty-eight.

There is something utterly charming about eight year olds.    

…but all Wednesdays are atypical.    

Though maybe some things are routine:  for the last two weeks I have been attending the tai chi sessions at 9am at the Biblioteca.     The library does not open to the public until 10am so Dan-Horia has been teaching more than twenty of us in the courtyard the rudiments of chi and this morning we had our third session.    I say ‘our’ but not all the participants in the first two weeks turned up today.    But there is a familiarity now among those who did and I knew two of the newcomers.   I might write a separate page about Qi Gong as I cope with it more easily than yoga or pilates, and somehow without too much exertion it makes me feel great!

And it set me up afterwards for a quick trip to a nearby bank for a friend and to dash back for a lecture on the history of neo-liberalism and globalisation (I know but I have to fill in the gaps in my education somehow) but before that I bumped into my friend Edward Swift (I don’t think he’s on wikipedia but he’s an artist and a published author so he’ll be on Amazon). He was buying a ticket for the afternoon movie and exhorted me to see it.     The film is being shown as part of the Third Sexual Diversity Festival (only in San Miguel would you have the annual Sexual Diversity Festival running at the same time as the annual Chamber Music Festival).       

Muxes: Authentic Intrepid Seekers of Danger is a portrait of the muxes (pronounced mooshays) who, in trying to preserve their identity within the Zapotec culture of southern Mexico, have embraced a “third gender”  …and it’s been suggested that this three gender system may predate the Spanish conquest.     A muxe is physically a male individual who behaves in an effeminate manner, including cross-dressing but not always, and maintains a clear socially defined, feminised, role within their community.     I loved the documentary.    It was funny, touching and poignant.      And the Teatro Santa Ana was full.    

The film finished just in time for Guillermo Méndez’ lecture on Ancient Cultures of Mexico …including the Zapotecs! - so why not!!     I have attended Professor Méndez’ lectures before but as I am of that age where I can remember everything very clearly for all of about five minutes I was happy to go and remind myself of what he said last time - and his lectures are never exactly the same - they are lively and amusing and …in English!   Phew!

I got back to the house in time to change again but the art exhibition was not until 8pm so I had time to relax for a few moments and no sign of td and her tf - so it was quite peaceful!    

I may not have mentioned that San Miguel is built into the side of the Sierra Madre mountains so apart from being over a mile above sea level nearly everywhere one walks in town is either uphill or down.    And in the summer when it rains in the afternoon the cobbles are slippery.    Have I mentioned the cobblestones?   But for the last couple of days afternoon clouds have not brought rain, so fortunately staggering up the hill to the art opening was not slippery, just exhausting.    But Jose Luis Arias was there, and his beautiful wife Gloria Espino (who has recently survived a bone marrow transplant for leukaemia) arrived a little later (I can use their real names because they are artists) and I could not resist three more of their paintings and I can’t possibly tell th about this because I still need furniture for the house ..and it is filled with paintings instead.    Or sculpture …last week I just had to buy an angel and two hens.

American artists here have their exhibition openings at 5pm or 6pm and they are all over by 8 or 9pm.    But for Mexicans nothing starts until 8pm and doesn’t really get going until even later.    So at last night’s opening the young string quintet (in town for the Chamber Music Festival) did not arrive until after 9.    They are performing at the Bellas Artes next week for free and they gained themselves at least one new fan last night - I will definitely go and see them perform on the 14th.     Five young men (two cellists) - average age about 21 I would think.    With a repertoire of very popular tunes for last night’s crowd.

But I had to leave and as I picked my way carefully on the cobblestones (going downhill is just as bad as going up) someone called my name.  I had seen Meryl earlier at the movie.    We have known each other for more than two years and she has been building a house, and now twice in one day after not being in touch for months we have bumped into each other - definitely a great excuse to get together for comida next week.  

And as I walked on, now on a level street for one block, I realised that I could hear footsteps hurrying behind me.     I stopped and turned round clutching my handbag closer to me;  a young man said buenas noches and hurried past.    A few yards further on he started knocking at a door and as I passed him it was my turn to say buenas noches to cover my guilt for feeling nervous.    San Miguel de Allende is one of the safest places I know for wandering around alone late at night. 

At last I was on the street where I live …and then I heard my name again!   And there through an open window sitting in the Blue Bar, practically next door to my house were two new friends and a friend of theirs and I was beckoned inside!!   How could I resist?    And I had already seen Will and Grace this morning at the tai chi and then Will and Jack at the movie.    I just had time for a bandera - three shot glasses in a row - one with spicy tomato juice, one in the middle with tequila and the third one usually with lime juice but the chichi Blue Bar offered cucumber and celery juice with mint!    Does it mean anything to you?    Maybe if you speak Spanish - or know Mexico!    And then the barman started locking the doors very loudly and we were slow at taking the hint but at last they shooed us out …and I could just fall into my house!

I had my first bandera last autumn at the oldest cantina in town.   That was on a Wednesday.     Typical. 

When I wake up and it is grey and raining and it carries on being grey and raining, day after day, it so depressing and boring.    But when I wake up here and it is blue and sunny and it carries on being blue and sunny day after day it is the opposite of depressing and NEVER boring.    Well, I suppose it would be boring if I was waking up in the middle of the Sahara Desert and it was REALLY HOT.

But the great thing about being in San Miguel, apart from being closer to the tropic of cancer than the equator, is that the weather is so predictable - sun, blue skies, sun, blue skies,  and in the rainy season, which is in the summer here, it rains in the afternoon, clears up by the evening and then back to sun, blue skies in the morning.     And occasionally we have a predictable storm and then very very occasionally one that is unpredictable - take last Monday for instance.    

Dark clouds were gathering at about 4 or 5pm but no sign of rain - still no sign of rain at 7pm or 8pm while I was at Ken Bichel’s lecture and demonstration about musical improvisation and then lots of lightning but still no thunder and no rain as I walked home.     And the lightning seemed to be lying above the black clouds like a white blanket that kept flickering, as a fluorescent light flickers after it has been turned on.    

And by 10.30 the wind suddenly was coming from the north (which it never does) and I hurried up the outside staircase to my garret and there seemed to be a rumble of traffic or it could have been someone bending and waving one of those metal trays that people use to create the sound of thunder for amateur dramatic performances - and enormous drops of rain started to fall.      

A few moments later the noise of the rain was deafening and it sounded as though it would come through the roof.     And it was no longer rain.    It was a hailstorm.    And it seemed just seconds later when I put on the light on the terrace I could see through the door that the drain was full of leaves and hailstones and the terrace was covered with more than an inch of ice.    And in the darkness I could see the terrace on the floor below me was also glistening white.

It was then I realised that water was seeping under the door from my terrace and a rolled up bathmat was no match for the amount of water that had built up.    My bedroom floor is about ten inches below the terrace so I just watched the water pouring down the two steps, raised the curtains, removed the bedside rug and got into bed.    I felt as though I was on a boat about to float out to sea.    The icy water had probably filled two thirds of the room so I was hardly even paddling, and I was confident that the concrete floor would survive and dry out by morning.      And of course it did!

When daylight came I could see my neighbour’s terrace was covered with a carpet of jacaranda leaves as mine with bougainvillea.     And as I walked downtown at 8am the pavements and streets were covered with flowers and leaves and twigs but everything was so fresh …and the sun was shining and the sky was blue - again!

Perhaps I am hoping I won’t be seeing you on the ice at 5!

Well I printed off the blogging guide but it has not guided me into all the little intricacies of the blogging world that I thought it might, so I have given up on tags and pings at the moment and thought I would just write a few lines instead.    

I have come back and with the wonders of twenty-first century technology I am able to sit on my balcony - writing a blog and drying my hair at the same time.    No I do not have a hairdryer built into my computer.   But the mist clinging to the mountains at dawn disappeared hours ago and the San Miguel sky is its familiar azul and the temperature has just reached 26º.    This is the rainy season so this afternoon the clouds should build up from the southeast as they do every afternoon, and on most days it will rain for an hour …but maybe not today.  

I have the advantage of my terrace being one of the highest spots in town and I can see precisely what is happening weatherwise!    And tonight I have friends coming to sit on another terrace for a drink with td and her tf’s before we have dinner at the restaurant.   I hope we will be able to watch a wonderful sunset and flocks of egrets (or are they ibis) flying down to the lake rather than sitting inside watching a storm swirling round!    

Incidentally you must not think there is only one restaurant in town.    There are dozens of restaurants and they all have names but this is one of the newest and the food is delicious!  so we don’t mind it not having a name!  

We are celebrating tonight as my friends rescued td from Mexico DF with her two friends at midnight on Wednesday, and brought them all back to San Miguel on Thursday morning.    

I am just hoping that the starter of ravioli filled with courgette flowers on huitlacoche sauce will still be on the menu tonight!!

Well that’s down and out as Eric Blair might say - except it is not Paris or London, so hasta luego.

I don’t mean what am I doing HERE …you may find out about that later …but what am I doing writing this blog?

Well this is the tricky bit!!    I am sure all you bloggers out there know your widgets from your taglines and your permalinks from your pings but I am floundering around here and I know that people who know me will say -but forty years ago you were a computer programmer - but that is when the computers I programmed were as big as houses (my house) and computers have nothing to do with the internet (well maybe a ‘bit’ - ugh! sorry!) - so I have emailed myself a guide to blogging which I am going to print off at the internet café on the corner of my callé.    And I will probably have some coffee and talk to friends and walk to the zocalo which is known as the jardin in this town (pronounced ‘hardeen’), so I will continue this blog later.   Or as Eddie Mair might say -  see you on the ice at 5.  

but of course I did not know that until I visited Mexico for the first time in the spring of 2003.

I thought I would try to set up a blog for my friends in England to share some of the experiences that I have had since buying a house here three years ago …and maybe they will want to come and visit me!