Uno, dos, tres, uno, dos, tres, mira... yo bailo!

It's true, everyday I leave dance class humming that tune from Hello Dolly (though unlike the movie, I try not to go skipping down the cobblestone streets on my way home). Ivan (above) is a wonderful teacher, as are all the instructors at the Arthur Murray studio where I'm studying (can you believe it - Arthur Murray - sounds so old school). My Tango classes (along with foxtrot, rumba, salsa, swing....) are the best example of my "it's never too late" mantra. 

Buenos Aires, here I come... well, maybe after a few more lessons.

Burros and balloons

There really is no place that I've been so far that has quite the same serendipitous magic of San Miguel.

Two nights ago, walking to my favorite taco place for dinner, a group of burros resting before their climb back up the hill, waited at the end of my street. 

Last week, crossing the Jardin at sunset, I witnessed men lighting paper hot air balloons and sending them up over the city. 

Magical.

This little piggy...

I think everyone has pretty much had enough of this swine (oops, human) flu thing. I know I have. The best you can do at this point is just make light of it - my friend S is referring to the excessive measures in Asia as "piggy protection." 

Our local bakery is also having a bit of fun - this morning, our favorite pan dulces were shaped like pigs.

Sign of the times

My favorite flu sign, seen in my favorite coffee place in San Miguel - Juan's Cafe.