Posts tagged mexico.

My Mom, looking lovely in vintage. 

Some from the first few hours in San Miguel 

The sunsets of San Miguel de Allende

Another beautiful weekend in San Miguel de Allende is in the books. I didn’t waste a drop of good light or tequila. 

San Miguel de Allende

I spent 4 days losing myself in the colors, tastes and nosies of San Miguel de Allende. Nestled in the mountains 6 hours from Mexico City, San Miguel has been a lot of things, an ex-pat artist community, a get away for well to do Mexico City residents and a city built on a mining boom. For all of that it was mostly a breath of fresh air and a nice change of pace. 

sure they might have missed the focus, but this is the only non selfie photo of me from mexico, so here it is. in J. Lindeberg chinos & shirt.

a dead bat, laying noiselessly, finally. 

do more than just float. 

her story? he never even caught her name. (a series)

down the hill, into the sunset. 

found a roadside bouquet discarded, thrown away. 

bug.

This little girl had gotten some wayward firework debris in her eye and was sobbing uncontrollably when I caught her father trying desperately to comfort her. 

Running High

I am thinking about cement. 

I am at 7,000 feet and 45 minutes into a run where the elevation has me wheezing and spitting to the top of San Miguel’s highest hill. In the distance I can see the end, a cross surrounded by a dusty field and dying trees, but still I am thinking about cement. 

I recently read Merce Rodoreda’s wonderful novel “Death in Spring”. In the book, one of the central pieces of mythology involves the village people’s deaths. As someone nears their last breath, a town leader pries their mouths open and pours wet cement down their throats. The idea is by closing off the body they can keep someones soul in place. So, as I begin to feel my lungs shorten up, I can’t help but daydream that it’s not the combination of tequila  cheese and elevation that has me suffering but instead cold, thick cement rolling slowly through my bronchioles at honey’s pace.

That’s when something amazing happens. The moment my foot leaves the pavement an army of grasshoppers fly into the air. They spring up 2-4 feet in the air brushing against my legs and sticking onto my shirt. Impossibly each step seems to send them skyward in greater numbers.

It’s no secret that I am drawn to drama. I like to mark the meaningful or important moments in my life with a story that speaks to some higher meaning, some sign that what I am doing is right, is good and is interesting. And, as I was sitting on the cross at the top of a mexican mountain I was looking for that meaning.

I want to tell you that the chorus of grasshoppers felt like a homecoming, felt like a prayer. I want to say that it’s true that sometimes when you take your body into dark places you can find some light, but today, and on this hill I am just happy the grasshoppers are jumping and my lungs are free and that’s enough, that’s enough.