"Hold the GD phone..."

Chewing as per usual

...I say OUT LOUD to myself when I find the busses I've been looking for, for the last hour, because deep down I'm a proper geriatric lady.

9/4, 615a

I wake up. I do an hour of yoga before the dogs even wake up to pee. In typical Bianca fashion, I pick a class twice as long as any I’ve done since I’ve been on my yoga kick and I make sure it’s especially difficult, too, because I DIDN’T DO ENOUGH YOGA THE LAST TWO DAYS AND IT FEELS LIKE A PERSONAL FAILURE, FOLKS. 

Obviously, I hurt my wrist. Obviously, I keep going. 

This morning’s journey on the mat was Lord of the Rings long and exhausting. I’m strong, I’m weak, I’m open, I’m judgmental, I’m breezy, I’m NOT. When Philip Urso gets into the point of why I chose this class (“No illusion is bigger than any other”) I break down into coughing sobs. 

Y’all. Thank God I do yoga alone. 

11a 

Señoras

San Miguel has a giant market every Tuesday called El Tianguis. Last night’s internet research informs me the market is on the outskirts of town and I can take a bus or taxi. I’m afraid to take a taxi because it involves talking to strangers, so I’m bussing it. Of course, there isn’t a bus route online or in existence, I’m guessing, but multiple websites tell me the Route 8 or 9 bus goes to the market and I can catch it near Plaza Civica.

When I get to Plaza Civica, there are no less than 8 busses coming and going. I speed walk up and down the block looking for Route 8 or 9, or any indication of El Tianguis. Multiple websites (again, I’m hitting myself for not buying a damn Mexico guide book because the internet is full of liars) say the route numbers mean less than the destination written on the bus windows in shoe polish or with stickers (which I love).

I see nothing I need. I see bus stands for different numbers but none of them are mine. The websites said either across the

This sleepy baby bear

street from the church or on Calle Mesones and I came up Calle Mesones and never saw busses so this has to be it--

I see it! There is a bus that says 109, buts probably the same thing as 9, and it’s hauling ass, so I can’t even run to catch it. I’ll wait for the next one. At this point, it’s almost 1130 and some website said busses come every 20 minutes or so. I decide: If the bus doesn’t come by noon, I’ll take a cab.

1136a... This is the first time I check my phone. My battery has been spilling life and I need to be conservative because I plan to walk home (A website said I could do that.) and I need my map for that.

1142a... I’m second guessing myself. Which website said what? What’s the name of the market again? Where is it located because maybe I should be looking for that neighborhood instead of the name of the market that I can’t remember but am convinced I’ll recognize when I see it? Screw my phone battery, I get out of airplane mode. My internet isn't working and there’s no available WiFi.

This is where I bought my strawberries!

1144a... A gentleman asks me about a particular bus line and I’m able to answer his question in real Spanish, not my usual "ehhhh" or "uhhhh". That makes me happy. Maybe a taxi would be easier. I’ll still give it until noon, because I can’t be wrong. Multiple websites said!

1152a... Empty taxis drive by one after another. Sigh. I know. I’m being stubborn. I practice what I’ll say to the taxi driver.

12p. The church bells ring and there are no taxis in sight. I walk back the way I came, searching. I get to Calle Mesons - double take!! I see busses lined up! Where the hell were these before?

I race over - Route 8 and Route 9 pop from the windshield of the respective busses as do signs for “Mercado”, and there's also teenage boys hollering out destinations for each bus. Ohhh, now I remember… General bus info online said across from the church. El Tianguis info said busses meet near the Plaza Civica on Calle Mesones. THIS IS WHY YOU BUY A GUIDE BOOK. Or take notes when you research.

Cecina pic courtesy of Valen at EatingtheGlobe.com

1230p

El Tianguis is at least the size of a mall wing. Massive. Online, people claim its the size of three football fields, but people online are prone to hyperbole. 

Vendors sell everything from heaven to hell. Food, clothes, electronics, cheese graters, baby ducks, pizza with fries on top (I need to research this more), furniture, glasses (optical and drinking), etc.

I’m overwhelmed. I knew I would be. I have three targets: a pop-up thing for the back of my cell phone, a coconut milk drink, and cecina tacos. In my rabbit hole of research a food bloggist raved about cecina tacos, which I’ve never heard of before and was dying to try. Apparently, cecina is a moist cured beef and the taco is served with cooked onions and french fries on top. 

Gordita a la random señora

I look all over. I forgot the name of the meat, but I know it starts with the letter C and I remember what the pictures of the beef look like. I get my phone thing. When I start to feel bad about myself for being an anxious, bad-note-taking traveler, I buy groceries, including some chorizo and potatoes for a future badass breakfast.

I circle every food stand I spot and I’m losing hope. And I’m starving. I pass a woman eating a gordita with an empty seat next to her. I double back and sit down. Ask her what she’s eating, I don’t understand what she says, but I ask the server for one. The woman seems flattered that I appreciate her taste, but we don’t become friends because she’s got one on her other side. 

My gordita is filled with pinto beans, peppers and some other veggies? All I know is its GOOD. And where I'm eating looks to be an all woman operation, so that's also GOOD.

Meat for days

Suddenly, I see a C-word I don’t understand at the food stand next to us! I order it. It doesn’t look like the internet picture. I look up the word- ribs. Okay. I’m done.

On my way out, I buy a chicharron bigger than my head. It bugs me that I couldn’t find the holy grail beef taco, but now I have another goal.

Later that night, I swing by Jardinrama, for fried shrimp tacos per Mark’s suggestion. Everyone I know who lives in San Miguel has recommended this gem to me at least once. I love the atmosphere. I’m the only person there and I adore it, though it makes me lonely for my fella, and my Stella, and all of my other people who would love it here, too. We could have a great party at this place.

Jardinrama: Saving a place for you, my loves

"Does a snake drag it's ass?"

...I read from the notes I took on our trip to La Santisima Trinidad. I don't remember who

Yeah, there was a conga line!

said it because I was red wine pickled. Other gems I wrote, "...way out in East Jesus" and "Women's clothes shopping? I'd rather shave my tongue with a cheese grater." I love Texasspeak.

9/2, 8a

I wake up with a serious hangover. I do hangover yoga. I drink hangover tea. I stumble through the park with the dogs and gag when I pick up some poop.

130p

We leave Melissa & Mark’s and head about 20 minutes outside of town to Zandunga. The day before when I mention that I’m chilling at home all day, Melissa says, “No, you’re not! You’re coming with us to Zandunga!” and I listen because Melissa knows what she’s talking about. 

I look up Zandunga and find a picture of Mark & Melissa, that I screen shot and text to her. Basically, they’re half famous everywhere they go. 

Mark & Melissa in their happy place: Zandunga

Zandunga is a ranch outside of town that started as a modest patio-type area where Gil Gutierrez would jam with other musicians and have food. It’s become a large Sunday

Delish.

afternoon party from 2-5p, that you buy tickets to beforehand which include live music and food. The quality of both is spectacular, which makes the already reasonable ticket price (600 pesos) an outright steal.

I’m still feeling touchy, but I still order a margarita because I’m alive, aren’t I?? I love a margarita on the rocks, but usually order frozen to force me to drink it slowly. These margaritas are so strong, I don’t need try to drink slow. 

The music starts with a couple of opera singers accompanying Gil Gutierrez and his band. Then Rafael De La Cruz (of Los Rabeats) sings and I cry. It’s not the tequila (yet), his voice just breaks my heart open.

Music, beer, music, food, music, margarita, and then we dance until we shut the place down. There is a big New Braunfels contingent here, and everyone knows everyone. I’m introduced around with the byline, “She’s at Don & Lynn’s” and I’m welcomed straight into the family. Later, they beckon me to the dance floor. When I try to sit down to catch my breath, I’m called again. (I love this.)

Gil Gutierrez & Rafa De La Cruz with the first dancing couple

I’m comfortable here I walk up to Gil and ask him about drums. (He plays guitar.) I walk up to other strangers and talk to them. When does that happen? Zero.

It’s like Zandunga was made for me: open, friendly crowd, amazing Mexican food, margaritas, live music, an incredible dance vibe, it lasts no longer than three hours, and it gets us home before dark. Perfect, perfect perfection.

9/3, 730a

I wake up. Not as hungover as yesterday, thank God. I have plans to do a tour of San Miguel with my friends so I start my Monday with energy. I walk the dogs and I’m super psyched to do some real yoga since yesterday’s hangover yoga was BS.

Stella, in between barking fits

I start a great, strong yoga class via podcast. A quarter of the way into the class, the doorbell rings and the dogs go nutso. Luciano explains there are men here to work on the house today. Fine. 

I let them in and the dogs bark. Incessantly. Forever. Until the workmen go outside my bedroom to start pounding on the house. The dogs calm down. The workers pound, the dogs bark. Workers walk out of the house, the dogs bark. Workers walk back in with supplies, the dogs back.

I move my yoga - yes, I’m still determined to do the damn yoga - from my bedroom to the master bedroom, and bring the dogs. I try to close Stella & Usche in the room with me, but then they bark at the bedroom door instead of bullying the poor workmen.

I stop my yoga podcast and sit outside in the dogs’ poop yard. The instant I stop trying to do yoga, it gets quiet. I cast a look at Usche and Stella, now laying on my yoga mat. Maybe…

Their ears perk. They leap up, barking, and run out of the room after a workman. I spray my Verbena essential oil (45 pesos at Via Organica, good for anxiety, nerves, hysteria) into a tissue and huff it like an 8th grader before I retire to a hot shower.

Parroquia with a statue of a friar
and Chichimeca before it

11a

Lee, Anne, Grace, Louie and I meet Leondro, our guide for the private tour Melissa arranged. We spend the next two hours on a most excellent tour of the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel (Parish of San Miguel), Jardín Principal (the square), El Mirador (the scenic overlook), among other places, where I learn all about Mexican topography, the Spanish conquest, the spread of Catholicism, Mexico’s Independence...  

My favorite facts and stories:

-The Franciscan friars were nice and respectful. I made sure to ask because when I pictured converting the Chichimecas (the indigenous) from paganism to Catholicism, I pictured cruel brainwashing. 

-There are stone crosses outside churches because Chichimeca, being hunter/gatherers, were very uncomfortable indoors. Masses were held outside churches at the crosses. Little by little, the monks moved the crosses closer to the church until they finally eased the Chichimeca inside to worship. 

This Christ was carried on a four day journey by two friars, who have statues dedicated to them on either side. The Chichimeca attacked the friars on the journey, killing them. The legend is, this Christ is particularly bloody because the friars protected the statue with their own bodies, adding some of their own blood to the representation.

-Ignacio Allende, the leader of the rebellion was criollo, a Mexican born Spaniard. 

-Only 9% of México remains indigenous. Not only were the indigenous conquered (and raped- my comment, not Leondro's) by the Spanish, but the French and Middle Eastern also migrated (French migration started after Mexico gained independence in 1810 and Middle Easterners came as part of the slave trade in the 18th century before they started migrating in the 19th century, per Wikipedia) and contributed seed. For this reason, today you can have a mother and father who look traditionally Méxican, short with dark skin and round faces, have children who might have green eyes, light skin, and blond hair. 

YES taco carts with tacos
for less than a dollar

-Allende held secret meetings with Father Miguel Hidalgo and Juan Aldana that were organized by (badass lady) Josefa Ortíz de Dominguez where they would play loud music and pretend to be partying so no one would suspect them of anything and try to overhear their plans.

-The reason Mexicans have so many names is to acknowledge all the family lines. And sometimes family saints? (Our heros, Allende, Hidalgo, Aldana, among many, had many other names. I'm a lazy American and chose to use the shorter versions, but with all due respect.)

-Josefa is the whole reason the rebellion against the Spanish was a success. The insurgents had planned the revolution for October 1. The insurgents were betrayed by a supporter who told the Spanish about the plans for revolution on September 14. The Spanish asked Josefa's husband (obviously, not knowing of she was one of the main supporters of the rebellion) to round up rebel leaders. Josefa overheard, but before she could alert her friends, her husband LOCKED HER IN HER ROOM. 

Josefa kicked on her door until her horseman heard her. He couldn't unlock the door so she wrote a note of warning, rolled it up, and slid it through the keyhole. (According to Leondro. I don't know why she wouldn't just slide it under the door.) The note ultimately got to Hidalgo and on September 16 at 6am he rang the church bell and gave the call to arms that started the war for independence. 

Barbacoa

-San Miguel exists because it was part of the route the Spanish took when they transported the silver they mined in Guanajuato to the shore. The town got a huge influx of people after the Mexico City earthquake in 1985.

-San Miguel has fireworks ALL THE TIME. (so I hear. I've only seen them once since I've been in town, but I'm also super lame and usually am not out after dark because I'm writing my beloved blog.) to celebrate and commemorate every saint's day and every human milestone. At some point in history, maybe this still happens, when a baby died, families would shoot off fireworks all night long to keep the other angels away so the baby's spirit would have a straight shot to heaven.

I could go on and on. History is much more fun to learn when you're standing in front of the Casa de la Conspiración (House of Conspiracy) where Josefa and her friends held their fake parties and you can imagine the electricity of rebellion in the air.

We end the tour and I grab a quick street taco (I swear, if I could eat everything out of a cart, I would) before I go home.

The workman are still working, and the dogs are still barking. Where's my Verbena...?

Don't know these kids, but I love this moment

Happy.

"I am Mexican. I am not afraid... But I also respect the one who does not understand."

Conches are my all time fav pastry!!

...I read on a piece of wall art (pictured at the end of this post). The beauty, heart, and graciousness of its message made me cry. The rest of this post is not nearly as deep as this.

8/31, 630a

I wake up.

130p 

I leave the house. I have no idea why it took me so long.

My agenda is more targeted exploring. My goal is to hit an organic grocery store I saw in a flier and… the shoe store.

San Miguel has a shoe!! They’re not as ubiquitous* as avarcas were in Menorca, but they’re more comfortable and muuuuuuuuuuuch cuter! I see mention of them on one website (THIS is what you have the potential to miss when you don’t buy travel guides!!) and I mention the

New Shoe Swoon

shoes to Lynn, Stella & Usche’s mom. She’s got a closet of them and offers me some she never wears.

YES!! Yes, please! A thousand times yesssssssss. (PS She wears my size. #blessed)

San Miguel Shoes have a few different styles I want to research before I buy my own pair(s?). I hit Lynn’s shoe store recommendation first and I’m not as feverish about them as I was when I was in Lynn’s closet or every other store in Menorca. I’m going to be here a while. I WILL find the shoe store that makes me sweat.

Via Organica lives in away from the tourist part of town I’ve mostly

Just take all my money with this.

been and it’s CUTE. I’m a sucker for street art of which there is a lot. It’s early in the day (relatively speaking) so the restaurants are either quiet or closed, but I know the vibe of this neighborhood. It’s very East Austin/East Hollywood where cool and hip is replacing older traditional. Once I make the connection, I’m less enchanted but I’m not mad at it. Good street art with a message goes a long way with me.

I step into Via Organica and lose my mind. All I know is when I finally left, I’d spent a bigger chunk of money there than I have at any other one spot I’ve been to. It was like a Whole Foods seedling with all the goodies, costing all the money, minus the size and mass produced feeling. Put anything - oil, air, dreams - in a mason jar or eyedropper bottle and slap a handwritten label on it and

Echoes of Whole Foods 

I’ll give you all of my money for them. 

I swear, I just went in for ginger. 

Anyway, I run out of the store before I can find anything else to buy and realize I’m hungry. My eye had caught on a temporary sign hanging over an archway that advertised comida rico before I got lost in the space time continuum of Via Organica. On a whim, I forgo the new and hip for old traditional. 

I forget to take a picture of the outside so I can’t remember the name of the place, but I know the feel. I walk in and I’m back in my grandma’s kitchen when she used to care for me, pre school. The sign is temporary because I think this is someone’s home.

I snuck a picture of the señoras cooking.
No good reason.

There are a few tables set up. The menu is written on a piece of paper in magic marker and I have 5 choices: among them are salad, crispy tacos, spaghetti or rice, and tortas de carne.

I order tortas de carne. Instantly, a young girl brings me a pitcher of limeade, a bowl of soap de fideos (noodle soup), a dish of warm tortillas and salsa. I’m ecstatic. When I get the tortas, I realize they're not gorditas (they're meat cakes), and who cares because this is the best meal I’ve had since I got to Mexico? And? It cost 60 pesos ($3) which is less than 10% of what I’d just dropped in the organic market. I want to screw every restaurant choice in favor of townie goodies like this one.

I spend the rest of the day working on this blog. 99% of the time, I love writing these posts. I love it so much, hours can fly as I write, rewrite, edit pictures, blah, blah, and I don’t notice the time flying. Not today. Today sucks. I’m in my head, I’m thinking too

My best meal yet...

hard, I’m trying too hard. I beat myself up about it. I'm taking the weekend off.

130a 

Lightening crashes and my doggie cries. God’s not bowling tonight, it’s collapsing buildings with a wrecking ball; thunder rocks the house. My sleep was all stress dreams anyway, so waking up to hug my terrified dogs was a welcome respite*. 

9/1, 730a

I get up. I have plans this morning so I have to squeeze my usual 6 hour routine of God Knows into 2 hours. Yesterday’s crappy evening lingers until I do a yoga podcast by my all time favorite yoga teacher, my first yoga teacher ever, Elsie. Her class has me all kinds of purging and crying and loving and forgiving myself on my mat, thank goodness.

Estella's comida

930a 

I meet my neighbors Melissa and Mark at their house next door. They have friends in town for the weekend and have graciously invited me to join them in all their (awesome) plans. I meet Louis and Grace and Lee and Anne. Like all good Texans (and Alabamans), they make me feel like one of their own within seconds. This weekend is going to be fun!

We walk to TOSMA (Tianguis Organico de San Miguel de Allenda), the “Gringo Market” (nicknamed for all the whiteys that head over for their organic produce) a weekend farmer’s market and food court. The food stands all look outstanding and I order a huarache, because I’ve never heard of it before (besides the sandal).

A huarache is a thick, oval-shaped (sandal-shaped, if you will) corn meal pancake covered in refried beans and your choice of 15ish toppings, plus onions, cilantro and salsas. I get chorizo & potatoes, mushroom & cactus, and spinach. Of course,

Estella's huarache

it’s FANTASTIC. My friends get some of the most beautiful tamales I’ve ever seen and this egg thing that’s probably great, but I’ll never know because eggs are disgusting. 

Awesome thing I've noticed: cart vendors provide real clay or plastic plates and cups to use and return. Street vendors cover their plastic plates in plastic wrap so they can easily reuse and the vendors in the Gringo Market washed their dishes on the spot. It's a super smart way to cut down on disposable trash, and eating off a beautiful clay plate makes the dish a dining experience instead of just another taco.

We head to the farmer's market section. I have a wild hair to make

a vegetable soup so I buy a king’s ransom of organic veggies and fresh tortillas for about five bucks. This is nothing like the Hollywood Farmer’s Market.

View from our table at La Santisima Trinedad

330p

I head out with my friends to a winery called La Santisima Trinidad. Melissa has purposefully not said a lot about this place, nor even really said the name much so that we could all be sufficiently blown away. And we were.

La Santisima Trinedad is a winery and restaurant (and hotel and polo field and community, I guess) that lies on what might as well be Tuscany. Vineyards, olive trees and lavender blanket the land, so much so that if you live here, you have the option to sell or keep what your land produces. (Which I think is AWESOME.) 

My table full of new friends :)

We have an incredible lakeside dinner outside, tour the garden all our food came from (I eat an olive straight off a tree! I instantly regret it! It was SO BAD!), and drink lots and lots of red wine. I think I talk A LOT about how Hollywood doesn’t care. Red

Hey winos, check out
this red blend.

wine smudges my memory enough so that I know I talked a lot more than I usually do to new people, and 'Hollywood is Awful' is one of my go-tos. All I know is my hosts and friends are super sweet, and I get invited to the next day’s activities so it must not have been as insufferable as I’m imagining.

As we ride home in the shuttle, the sky goes from light to dark in minutes and we drive directly into a hailstorm. Our very, very responsible shuttle drive pulls into a gas station to wait out the storm, so not to worry family, I made it through to write this post.

BONUS: While we're grounded, I remember to ask Melissa about San Miguel shoes. She tells me if I really want shoes, I need to go to nearby León for the day. That's where they make all the San Miguel shoes, and therefore that becomes my new North.

*I think searching my mind for the Spanish I need has opened up other language corridors. This is likely the first time I've personally used "ubiquitous" and "respite" (I had to look each up to make sure they meant what I thought they meant) in conversation and they just dumped on the page with the rest of my writing. That's super cool!

"Living is wonderful!"

I just loved this.

"I am Mexican. I am not afraid. I love my culture. I love my people. I love their laugh, and I love their smile. I love my fields, and the brown of it's land. I love my homeland. And I defend it to death. But I also respect the one who doesn't understand."

What a grand day, courtesy of Melissa & Mark!

Lifetime wish list item: these tiles in my home. You can probably see my drool on them in this pic.