I am spoiled by Living Right in Centro. Everything I need is right here and just around the corner or three corners. I can buy wine, mangoes, balsamic vinegar, Atencion, ice cream, sunscreen, pots, shoes, cell phones and never have to leave Centro. I have within a short walk all the restaurants and bars and choices I could ever want. I could even go to Church in that big pink thing in the Jardin.
But there is a dark side to living in Centro – Friends who Don’t. They want you to come to their place that is Not Right in Centro. That means leaving all the amenities of Centro to venture into the Outlying Districts of the City with names such as San Antonio, Guadaloupe and even Santa Julia. These journeys take time, planning and a great deal of psychic work.
Some of these Friends live in Gringo Free Zones with nary a restaurant nor Chilango. Chilango is a Mexican slang demonym for residents of Mexico City.
Some of these place are so far you can’t walk there in 10 minutes. Some are up steep hills. A few are flat walks. This means you have to take a taxi and tell the driver in Spanish where the Friend lives. Orizaba por favor. Now that is easy but what about Aqua de Ojo. Several times I have been taken to a garlic store.
And what do you do at night when you have to return. You can’t just walk out into the street and hail a cab. There aren’t cabs outside of Centro, You have to call and again speak Spanish.
And then there is conversation. Some of these people never come into Centro. I hear there is a place called Los Frailes where residents pride themselves with never sitting in the Jardin. I think that is just an excuse for not wanting to call a taxi. You don’t want to talk about a new restaurant on Sollano because they can’t participate. Instead you talk about the great taco they buy on some street stand near them or in a field.
When we get there we are subjected to the sounds of animals – dogs, cats, roosters, sheep and birds. It is deafening. Sometimes I am comforted by the sounds distant bells from Centro.
Then there is the view. Sometimes we can see Centro in the distance but often the view is toward hills and things that rural. Of course you have to marvel at the view but I think they are simply trying to show us that they know where we live but can’t afford to live there. How terrible to get up each morning and look at Shangra La and know how far you away from all the action.
Sometimes they ask a few people who Live Right in Centro to the party so we don’t feel quite alone and to whom we can quietly speak of the horrors we have experienced arriving there.
I also find that many people think they Live Right in Centro to comfort you but I don’t believe they do. The City Fathers and Mothers should paint a white line on the roads at the edge of Centro so you know when you are arriving in or leaving Centro. That would end the discussion.
I believe the white line is a few blocks away from you.
Oh you live over the white line.
I live inside the white line.
Maybe it shoudn’t be white – a tad racist. Perhaps one of the World Heritage Colors you can find at Lowes.
Oh we live inside the Burnt Umber Line
It is difficult Living Right in Centro but we persevere knowing that when venture out to where our friend who don’t Live Right in Centro live we are bringing them light and love from the Center of San Miguel. I know when we leave they feel better and of course can always say
We have friends who Live Right in Centro
Love it! (written in Centro)
I enjoyed the “getting along in San Miguel” tips and tricks. Among them is the tried and true “avoid discussing politics”. It was followed by an extensive chart on the Bush crime family empire.
And then, there are those of us who live well above Centro and have to look down, when we drive down the Caracol, on the horrifying brown of the diesel exhaust, brick kiln toxics settling in the bowl, pollution from the wood/plastic burning fireplaces. We wonder how many people in this Paradise die early, suffer lung disease/heart attacks from living in the City of Brown Smog, while they are busy worrying about “crime.” Braving this kind of pollution to come in for the occasional lecture, concert, treat, we are grateful to the monied expats who live in the sacrifice zone.
And what could be a more appropriate illustration of your sardonic wit than the epitome of façade — the false front of Cinderella-in-Mexico’s castle?
There be dragons beyond the pale. Roving bands of Mexicans, nearly all of them dangerous, prowl all parts of Mexico, not just San Miguel de Allende, which lie beyond Centro. Food there is laced with shredded glass and ptomaine, your money will be swapped out for false currencies, and you will sold into white slavery.
And that’s why those who don’t live in Centro lie about it. They may claim that the lines of Centro encompassing their abodes were actually drawn by Alfonso Allende, Ignatio’s brother, extending halfway to Malanquin Club de Golf and that the current pitiful nucleus is something dreamed up by gringo real estate titans.
Another option, a far better one, is not to live in San Miguel at all. Perhaps yet another line (color to be determined later) could be painted even farther out from centro, farther even than those outlying areas you mention, that could indicate clearly the point at which one leaves San Miguel altogether and actually enters the nation of Mexico.
Great! Richard has returned South for warm days. I was thinking that you would soon post your witticisms, and I am never disappointed. Tonight, I truly needed some laughter, so thanks, especially for “Burnt Amber”–as a child, getting the big box of Crayola Crayons, I first met Burnt Amber–loved it, and I had forgotten until tonight. I never could color within the lines, though it has never stopped me. Now, I have just remembered to rub the palm of my hand on a cement sidewalk–in big circles, for tingling. Maybe, then, I will turn my entire body, quickly, in big circles, and see if I can remain upright. Kristin–in Sunny Southern California
I though everyone living in SMA had a chauffeur, maid and gardeners…
I believe you are now living outside Centro.m but then, I may be wrong.