The best birthday present

Two months ago I awoke in Morocco to learn that Obama was elected President. Throughout the day Moroccans congratulated me on my country's soon-to-be new President. For the first time in a long time, I felt proud to be an American.

This morning I joined 60 other people at Juan's Cafe in San Miguel to watch the inauguration on CNN. In the background we could hear another TV broadcasting the Spanish translation. Many of us had tears as we listened and all of us cheered Obama's speech. It's amazing to realize that we now have a black President named Barack Hussein Obama.

And again, for the first time in a long time, I'm so proud of my country.

Today is without a doubt one of my most memorable birthdays.

Celebrations!

What a week.

I've heard it said that not two weeks go by in San Miguel without some kind of festival or celebration. I've only been here less than a month but so far it's holding true.

This week marks the anniversary of the birth of Ignacio Allende, one of the leaders of Mexican Independence, who was born here in San Miguel on January 21st, and for whom the town is named. Festivities began with a dance festival in the Jardin. A latin combo played cuban salsa in the gazebo while couples danced; a mexican brass band blew tunes in front of the Parroquia; Aztec dancers stomped and twirled next to the garden; people dressed as clowns, queens (not the royal kind) and various comic characters shook their booties to something resembling reggaeton; and local dance school kids performed exhibitions from cumbia to the twist to a painfully cute rendition of the machete dance by a group of 5-year olds.

And all of this was going on at the same time! Total Mexican cacophony.

The evening became a bit more focused, with a wonderful outdoor symphony concert next to the Parroquia featuring the Mexican Army chorus. Me and 300 other people sat under a starry sky listening to greatest hits from Shubert, Verdi, Bizet, etc. with a singalong to Cielito Lindo at the end. (I finally learned the words). I hear that Wednesday features a military parade through the streets (and given that the mounted police here wear traditional colonial uniforms, I'm expecting a visual treat).

Tomorrow's my birthday, though happily fully eclipsed by the inauguration. A true reason to celebrate. What a week!

The Mexican bus... everything you ever/never wanted

I have to admit that I'm not a "bus" person. Meaning that while I don't have anything at all against taking a bus, and in fact actually would prefer it if convenient, spending most of my life in California means that my bus experience is fairly limited. In fact with a few exceptions in Paris and New York, my bus involvement has been pretty focused on the 10 Townsend in San Francisco and the #3 bus in Rabat. But even admitting my naiveté when it comes to this mode of transport, I'm sure that the Mexican bus is fairly unique.

My first taste came on my ride from the terminal del Norte in Mexico City to the pyramids at Teotihuacan. As we boarded the bus, so did a vendor selling a vast selection of snacks and drinks. I thought, great, how convenient for a 1 hour trip, but not feeling too hungry, I declined.

At the first stop, a young guy boarded with his guitar, proceed to unpack it from its case next to me and then serenaded us all with typical mexican fare starting with Qui sas, qui sas, qui sas. At the next stop he stepped off, 30 pesos richer (me, 5 pesos poorer). At the third stop, we were plied with trays of colorful jello. Again, I declined, but not because of hunger. At the fourth stop, lovely loaves of plastic wrapped bread were paraded down the aisle. A culinary and cultural adventure and we hadn't even reached our destination.

My next experience was on the ETN bus from Mexico City to San Miguel. This is the business class of buses. No one parading down the aisle because everything you could ever or never need is right there, from your plastic wrapped croissant sandwich, chocomints and Fresca as you board, to free headphones, 2 movies, a choice of music channels and cushy reclining seats. Wow.

My most recent excursion was a 10-minute trip up the hill on the local San Miguel bus to visit the flea market. This time we were entertained by a man in a nice jacket and large briefcase who touted the wonders of a little jar of cream that (if I understood right) could treat anything from arthritis to eczema and even make your nails stronger.

I'm not sure what would happen if I tried hawking a fresh batch of cookies on the 10 Townsend back home. Might be something to think about if I need to subsidize my sabbatical. Persimmon walnut with a side of Stairway to Heaven anyone?

Adventures in being a good world citizen

Some habits die hard, especially throwing recyclables in the trash. But as one would expect in Mexico, curbside recycling isn't automatic.

So as the empty bottles of wine and water accumulated in the corner of the kitchen, I decided it was time to research recycling in San Miguel. A little Googling revealed Reciqla just a short drive outside of town. Cool. Right.

Deciding to make a fun afternoon of it, Carlos and I loaded up the car with our glass and plastic stash and couple small bundles of old newspapers and magazines left by the previous tenants, and first headed off to the hot springs located a few kms beyond the recycling turnoff (we assumed). I also had a flyer from a weaving factory in the vicinity that looked like an interesting diversion we could check out on the way back.

After a quick soak, back in the car we did our best to decipher the directions we had. Before we knew it we were back in San Miguel, never having spotted any of the roads, neighborhoods or turnoffs we needed for the recycling center nor the weaving factory. Bottles rattling in the backseat provided an insistent reminder of our goal, so Carlos stopped a taxi heading in what we hoped was the right direction (back the way we came) who offered to guide us to the right road.

Heading west and still not seeing anything resembling the street names we sought, we decided to turn around and try again. Finally the word 'reciclabes' painted across a cement wall caught our eye, though the brightly colored Reciqla logo was nowhere in sight. Turned out this scrap metal place took paper but no glass, so we dropped off our bundles and collected..... 7 PESOS!!! We also found out that another recycle place was just up the street 200 meters. And there it was finally - Reciqla - a small scrap lot with a happy logo and a little brightly painted truck out front... and a statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe in a little cinderblock niche. Our bottles were lined up on the scale, a receipt given which we redeemed at the caja for a big whopping.... 3 PESOS!!

Ten pesos burning a hole in our pocket, we glanced across the street and there sat the little weaving factory we sought and a tiny tienda next door. Two minutes later we enjoyed the fruits of our quest... one Dos Equis for 10 pesos.

Now, what to do with the can?

Things you don't see in San Francisco

Wednesday was of course a grand New Year's Eve celebration in the Jardin in San Miguel. Crowds of people gathered to dance to live mexican music and await the spectacular midnight fireworks display (yup, this town clearly has a little money). 

They also bought handfuls of 2-foot long metal sparklers to wave around as midnight approached. Reliving childhood memories of burnt fingers, feet and clothing just from the dinky 10-inch variety (now banned in California at least), I decided to avoid that potential disaster and stayed well back from the hundreds of people wielding those lethal torches, though everywhere you stepped you'd still hear the clinking of metal under your shoes (fortunately no melted soles).

Number two on the list of "only in Mexico" was the small truck spotted yesterday in Guanajuato carrying a caged lioness, complete with megaphone advertising the local circus. 10 pesos, adultos y ninos. Perhaps the thin strip of yellow plastic "peligroso" tape would suffice to assign blame should some poor soul lose a hand ("hey, we told you she was dangerous"). At least the animal had plenty of food (as evidenced by the dozens of chicken carcasses littering her cage) and water, and seemed relatively content. Not even my iPhone in her face phased her.