Whiling away another Sunday afternoon in the Countryside

Life in Mexico is tough with a capital "T". That’s what people who don’t reside here would like to think anyway. The drugs wars continue to rage on in close proximity to the border (stimulated by the ever-increasing number of drug users in the U.S.).  Americans’ fears remain fueled by the un-remitting chatter of the” larger than life” newscasters who blather on about the dangers of living outside the safety of the good old U.S.A. but , at least for me, life in Ol’ Mexico is consistently and utterly idyllic.

I remember the glorious day, approximately four years ago, when it first became clear that I was going to be able to quit my job and move to San Miguel de Allende. I just couldn’t stop smiling. It was as if the happy fairy had tapped me with his magic wand. I felt this way for a good reason. Life here is just plain first-rate. It doesn’t get much better than this.

 Let me share a recent Sunday afternoon. It all started when my dear friend, Marsha, extended an invitation for Sunday lunch at Patsy’s Place in the campo (campo is just another word for countryside)http://www.patsydubois.com/sundaylunch.html.
Sixteen fun-loving, adventure- seeking folks responded and we all made the leisurely drive to Patsy’s. The thoroughfare to Patsy’s Place is a bit rocky, potholed, and rutted. It drops to one narrow, dusty lane in places (forcing the driver to play hopscotch with oncoming traffic) and goes on for miles with no end in sight. You feel a bit like  Lewis and Clark exploring uncharted territory. One can see nothing but dried-up tufts of grass and cacti. The road meanders through a little concrete and brick village with one little store that sells nothing but cigarettes and coca-cola. Just when you are beginning to think you might be lost, you spot another sign for the ranch. You realize that you are almost there when you can see the large herd of cattle, grazing in their pasture with the purple mountains as their backdrop. Patsy’s boasts a huge fuchsia colored sign that greets you as you pass through the rickety fence posts.

 The lengthy driveway is lined on both sides with gargantuan century plants, one bigger than the next. Patsy’s ranch goes on as far as the eye can see, made up of acres of gardens exploding with various succulents and exotic grasses. There are rosemary bushes the size of small elephants, walls swathed in bougainvillea and trumpet vines, flowering pomegranates bursting with ripened fruit, and water features chock full of lively, vividly colored fish. Various trees are decorated with small, glittering globes of colored glass. The site contains the main house, Patsy's personal residence, and a large banquet facility, ready to host bigger events. The banquet hall is in stark contrast to the rest of the property.  Modern in design, the banquet hall sports a playful, purple coat of paint. In the very center of the property stands the main ranch house, low to the ground as it hums with activity.

Patsy greets you warmly with a big hug, making everyone feel welcome and home at last. Her accommodating and neatly clad staff take drink orders. Wine, beer, and homemade lemonade with a slice of lime are some of the offerings.

Entering the cool, covered veranda, you can’t help noticing how thoughtfuly everything has been arranged. Long tables have been dressed with colorful Mexican glassware and jewel toned napkins. Cooling fans whirl overhead.

Vases of fresh orange and yellow nasturtiums, freshly-plucked from the garden, adorn the dining tables. In the rafters above, Patsy has strung reams of paper streamers in a variety of festive hues.

 Lush green ferns are clustered in pots throughout the space. A charming Chickering piano, a fond reminder of my dad’s old piano back home in Buffalo, sits beckoning in the corner, seducing more than a few in our party to play a tune or two.

Patsy summons everyone to join her in her brightly colored kitchen, prettily decorated with Mexican pottery and vibrant artwork, where preparations for lunch are in full swing.

                                                                 owner, Patsy

 Her servers circulate with tasty hors d’oeuvres such as stuffed squash blossoms lightly fried in a tempura batter and lettuce cups filled with an herbed tabbouleh.

 The guests peruse the offerings for sale in Patsy's Pantry. Jarred dill pickles, dried herbs, and tomato flip are just some of the homemade goodies available for purchase.

 The guests stroll around the grounds, even getting an opportunity to tour Patsy’s private quarters.

Her home is decidedly special, lovingly filled with Mexican crafts and quaint furniture, the rooms painted in bright tones of red, orange, green, and turquoise.

Her veranda is cute enough to take your breath away, filled with plenty of cozy equipale chairs, caressed by the filtered afternoon light, the walls decorated with little birdcages and even more sumptuous ferns.

 Native bees have constructed a large hive in the eaves; they fly furiously past me on their way to their quarters.

 Patsy prefers not to disturb their happy home. Her response to a guest’s query about why she hadn’t gotten rid of the bees. She countered with, “I don’t bother them and they won’t bother me.”

Lunch begins with a cool cucumber gazpacho, followed by teriyaki- marinated chicken,

 a fresh fruit salad includes luscious mangos, sweet pineapple, and cantaloupe,
crisp garden greens with a vinaigrette dressing, garnished with more nasturtiums,

 a chilled, herbed pasta salad, and marinated grilled vegetables.

 Dessert is a crispy meringue topped with a mango compote and juicy, ripe strawberries. The conversation is lively.

 Some people are meeting other people for the first time. Others laugh and joke with old friends (although “old” is a relative term when it comes to friends here, as we are all newcomers to Mexico).

 Many treasured photographs are taken.

 No one wants to forget this afternoon. Life is good. In fact, it is very good.

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Tianguis (The Tuesday Market)

A tianguis is an open air market or bazaar that is traditionally held on certain market days in a town or city neighborhood in Mexico and Central America. This bazaar tradition has its roots well into the pre-Hispanic period and continues in many cases essentially unchanged into the present day. ...
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tianguis

Shortly after arriving in San Miguel de Allende, people started telling me about the “Tuesday Market.” They said things like, “Oh, you’ve gotta go.” and “You’ve never seen anything like it.”
Curiosity finally got the better of me last year and I made the short, 1 and ½ mile, trek to Tianguis. Nothing could have prepared me for what I would find there.
Tianguis is a sumptuous feast for all the senses. The colorful and unique sights, the tantalizing and occasionally off -putting aromas, and the unique and sometimes deafening sounds that come together in this place can almost be too much to bear for the first timer. It has taken me quite awhile to become accustomed to the sensory overload that one experiences. After two years, I feel as though I’m finally a veteran and now suitably prepared to share my knowledge with others.

There are hundreds of vendors, arranged in aisles under a hodgepodge of brilliantly colored tents and makeshift tarps as far as the eye can see. They sell an enormous selection of goods. If you can think of it, there’s a good chance you will find it at the market. On any given day, a shopper will find… fresh fruit and vegetables, chicken that some would say is the best in town, but I’m a little put off by the lack of refrigeration, huge slabs of beef, seafood (both fresh and fried), kitchen gadgets, pots and pans, cleaning supplies, ladies perfume, makeup and hair products, incense, plants for your garden, hand crafted jewelry, artwork, used clothing, new clothing from the United States, DVD’s with the latest movies (otherwise known as pirated knock-offs), CD’s (Banda, Ranchero, and Cumbia music [which originated in Columbia] can be heard around every corner at Tuesday Market), an assortment of livestock including bunny rabbits, chickens, pigeons, canaries, parrots, puppies, kittens, snakes, lizards, an occasional goat, and my all time favorite…. baby chicks that have been hand-dipped in Easter egg colors.

There are furniture makers, antiques dealers, car parts vendors, junk collectors, tool salesmen, and shoe and sneaker vendors. Any oddity that one can imagine can probably be found there.





I thought it might be fun to talk about my favorite things to do at Tianguis. My absolute obsession is having lunch (almuerzo) at the market.

Kirsten and I enjoying lunch


There are so many choices. It is really tough to make a decision. My favorite meal involves carnitas (Carnitas, literally "little meats", is a type of braised or roasted (often after first being simmered) pork in Mexican cuisine…Wikipedia.) The tiny jewel -like chunks of moist and crispy pork are carefully arranged in tiny hand-made corn tortillas that have been garnished with a dollop of a smoky and slightly hot but, not too hot, green salsa made from tomatillos.

I like to wash this down with a special, icy cold licuado (a licuado is a blended drink, originating in Mexico, made with fruit and milk). There are innumerable flavors to choose from such as mango, guava, melon, and strawberry/banana. Another one of my favorite beverages is called Horchata. Horchata or orxata is the name of several kinds of traditional beverages in Mexico, made of ground almonds, sesame seeds, rice, barley, or tiger nuts. I think that the drink I sampled was made with rice, almonds, and cinnamon.

beverage cart


For dessert, when I am feeling particularly svelte, I am drawn to another Mexican specialty, churros. I covet these moist and tasty goodies. It is all that I can do to pass this stand without stopping to breathe in their lovely fragrance. Churros are deep-fried Mexican doughnuts. The pastry is passed through an extruder and fried until golden and crispy on the outside and light and airy on the inside. While still warm, the churros are rolled in cinnamon and sugar and then placed in a paper wrapper. Life doesn’t get much better than this.

My other favorite activity at the market involves shopping for clothing. One of the biggest challenges, as a newly landed resident of San Miguel de Allende, is the complete absence of fashionable clothing that will accommodate the average North American woman’s body. The available garments in Mexico have been designed for a petite woman (both in width and height). The average dress size in the stores in downtown San Miguel, fits a size 0 and bears a striking resemblance to something Brittany Spears might favor ( in other words trashy)(Sorry Britt. It’s just how I feel). This apparent oversight on the part of the retailers never ceases to amaze me. Interestingly, while young Mexican women start out with a diminutive frame, somehow along the way things change rather dramatically. Women over forty can get quite large. This may be related to their fascination with day-glow orange corn puffs and Coca-colas, a story for another day. I have no idea where the more “mature” Mexican women do their clothes shopping. The only other location for traditional garment shopping is the mall at Lucianerga. For a woman like me, who refuses to pay inflated retail prices, this is not really a choice.

Tianguis can provide an alternative shopping experience; a savvy bargain hunter will find huge piles of clothing that have been brought to Mexico for resale. Most of the apparel has been sold to the Mexican vendors in bulk by retailers from the U.S. who are looking to unload last year’s styles (or possibly even the year before but, who’s counting?) Judging by the low prices, anywhere from $1.50 U.S. all the way up to $3.00, the vendors almost certainly pay by the pound. The clothing comes from retailers like T. J. Max and Marshalls as well as some high-end department stores, based on the original tags remaining on the garments.

I routinely see garments with designer labels including Ann Taylor, Dana Buchman, Ann Klein, Ralph Lauren, Banana Republic, Giorgio Armani, YSL, Betsey Johnson, Tommy Hilfiger, Eileen Fisher, Isaac Mizrahi, and Vera Wang. I have also seen some real dogs. Clothes that you wouldn’t gift to your worst enemy, fearing that someone might think that you had poor taste. Well, real fashion finds just get my juices flowing. I can stand in front of a pile of clothing, with hundreds of other style-starved ladies like myself, for hours, rooting through the heaps of clothing like a dog looking for his favorite bone. When a shipment of new clothing comes in and people realize that there are some real gems among the fashion don’ts, things can get quite heated. I have seen clothing actually flying in the air. Once, I got hit in the head by someone’s discarded blouse. I don’t think that it was intentional, just over- enthusiasm.
My all time favorite shopping experience happened a few weeks ago. I went to Tianguis with a couple of friends. My amiga, Sylvia, was on a mission to find unique costumes for a special event, namely Burning Man. She brought Kirsten and me along for the ride, acknowledging both our fashion expertise and unique abilities at finding unusual items at the market. I credit my mother for this skill. She was not ashamed to shop in some of the most unlikely places back home, if it meant that a bargain was to be had. Until I was able to buy my own shoes, I wore a lot of cast-offs from the bargain table at Sears. Trying them on was always a problem as they would wire the shoes together to prevent the pair from being separated. I would find myself, dragging one shoe behind me, when trying them on at the store.

But first, I should explain Burning Man. Burning Man is an annual art event and temporary community in the middle of the Black Rock Desert of Nevada, three hours and many miles from any humanity. The whole emphasis of this event is radical self expression and self-reliance. The self-reliance is referring to the fact that one has to brave the oppressive desert heat, the occasional dust storms that blow through, as well as the grueling experience of having to live in a dusty tent for a week.

Admirably, Sylvia was hell bent on expressing her zany side at this event, seeking madcap, sexy clothing in unique colors. We found some decidedly interesting get-ups that day, including dangling Katrina style earrings, wild and crazy hats, a hot pink tutu, skin tight glitter bedazzled jeans, and an ostrich feather boa. Needless to say, the local women who stood shoulder to shoulder with us at the table, while we sorted through the melee, seemed quite fascinated by our unique choices of clothing that day. You could see them giggling to themselves when they thought we weren’t looking. Sylvia finally explained to them that we were shopping for “crazy clothes” and they began to gleefully assist us in our quest. At the end of the day,I can say with some assurance that a fine time was had by all!

Sylvia in one of her glorious finds from Tuesday Market. You go girl!

Carol's book montage

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The Sounds of San Miguel de Allende

I think it is the right time to discuss the sounds of Mexico. For a gringa, like me, the unusual sounds that one hears on a daily basis require an adjustment in one’s thinking. Back home, I used to get annoyed by the low-level sound of passing cars…. that occasional “swoosh” one hears as cars drive down the adjacent streets. I felt that the sound invaded the peace and tranquility of my garden. I found the noise irritating enough that my husband went to the trouble of installing a small pond with a waterfall in order to mask the sound.
I still recall the first morning that I woke up in my new home here in old Mexico to the sound of a rooster crowing enthusiastically on the roof next door, at approximately 4 AM. The rude awakening brought back memories of a trip to Roatan, Honduras. Just like it was yesterday, I recall quite vividly that the roosters crowed all night long, apparently disturbed by the lights of passing cars. I soon discovered that they were living directly under my cabana and that everyone, except me of course, knew about the roosters and found the situation quite amusing.
Fortunately, my friend, the Mexican rooster soon settled down. But, only long enough for the next surprise. Fireworks began to erupt at about 6 AM. The cacophony of sounds lasted for a full hour. I would soon discover that fireworks play an integral role in Mexican life, a topic for another day, perhaps. The exploding rounds promptly set off the roof dogs, which are inclined to bark relentlessly when any stranger passes.
As the noise finally subsided, I slowly fell back asleep only to be roused five minutes later by the clamorous music of the Sonic gas truck, as it lumbered slowly down the street in hopes of finding some customers. Next came the vegetable man, with another catchy tune blaring from a set of speakers mounted on the roof of his truck ,while he attempted to be heard over the din, shouting on a microphone while informing the neighbors what fruits and vegetables were on special that day. I have to admit that the various tunes are quite catchy and after a few weeks, I actually began to identify which vender was passing. Once again I drifted off to dreamland only to be woken this time by a strange hissing sound; it seemed very close. Too close for comfort. At first, I was unable to identify the source. Could it be a snake? Raising my head off the pillow, and quickly glancing around the room, I saw nothing out of place. Then, framed perfectly in the eyebrow window above the door to my bedroom, I spied a colorful hot air balloon, hovering in the air above my casa. My first thought….“my god, I am naked! I wonder if those people in the balloon can see me?” (Please note that I am not particularly inclined towards public nudity. It never occurred to me that anyone would be capable of seeing past the high wall that surrounds my little house.)
Finally, the gentleman who sells fresh rolls approached the house. He shouts “bolillos, bollillos”…..hoping to attract some buyers. As the dust settled, a garbage truck appeared in the distance.

The garbage men alert the neighbors of their proximity by banging two metal pipes together, waiting patiently as all my neighbors stream from their houses with garbage in tow. Just as everything seemed to settle down, I heard a peculiar whistle. I wondered what it could be. Why it’s the fellow who sharpens knives, of course.

Is it done yet, you ask? Not quite….Soon the carefree sounds of Ranchero music drift into the bedroom. My neighbor, Hector, the local herrero (ironworker) begins his day by switching on his favorite radio station. I think to myself, “must be time to get up! No, lollygagging in bed for you, my dear. The whole of Mexico is alive and well.
I am sure you are thinking, “Lord, it sounds downright noisy in Mexico.” Strangely, I can honestly say that all is well here in my new home. I have become quite accustomed to the din. It has grown to be such a part of my daily life that it rarely disturbs me. I actually find the clamor quite reassuring. The noise is simply a delightful reminder of the vibrancy and joyful celebration of what life has to offer. This is what Mexico is all about.