The Return to SMA

The next couple of months might just prove to be something worth writing about as preparations are being made for my family’s visit. In addition to my 91 year old father, my sister, niece and nephew’s wife are coming for a visit. (I feel a little like I’m bringing the Clampits to Mexico.)

I landed in Leon yesterday morning at 5:30 AM. As arranged, the shuttle driver was waiting outside immigration with a sign depicting my name and that of another passenger. The driver looked tired. (Understandable as he would have had to leave San Miguel at about 4:00 in the morning in order to meet our flight.) After a few minutes we were joined by a man named Greg and his 11 year old weimaraner, Jake. Jake was very excited to be out of his carrier and Greg and I recognized each other from our work on the House and Garden tours last year.

In route we stopped at the Holiday Inn in Leon to pick up another couple. We had to wait awhile as the hotel had neglected their wake up call. Once in route, I sat in the front seat next to the driver and the others chatted away in the back. Jake had terrible “doggy gas”, as Greg referred to it, while he continually patted the old guy. I thought, “So quit patting him. You’re squeezing it out.”

We’d been driving about 30 minutes as the sun began to rise. I noticed that our drive seemed to be a little off, just the slightest hit of weaving. I glanced over at the driver. Rather than blinking, his eyes were closing for seconds at a time. The guy was clearly falling asleep at the wheel. I immediately started slapping him on the back and blurted out in Spanish “Eyes open!” This caught the attention of the other travelers and Greg leaned forward between the seats. “What’s going on?” he asked. “I think our driver may not have gotten up early to meet our flight but rather stayed up all night.”

Greg and I both offered to drive but the driver assured us that he was ok. He wasn’t. I spent the next hour watching him like a hawk. Even Jakes gas didn’t keep him alert and every time his eyes started to close I rallied any fragment of Spanish I know to keep him engaged. “Much rain this month? Which restaurants are open for breakfast now in San Miguel? How many more minutes now? How many kilometers is that? A lot of tourists in San Miguel now? Which house first?” It was one of the longest rides of my life and despite only a couple of hours sleep myself, I was wide awake.

We arrived in San Miguel just after sunrise and I felt like I was home. The jacaranda trees are in bloom and from my balcony giant splashes of purple appear across the landscape. The church bells ring continually in honor of semana santa (holy week). The town center is packed with people as event after event takes place in celebration. Elaborate alters are built outside homes, parades are almost daily this week. It is one of the times when I really know that I’m living in another country since we gringos become an even larger minority as Mexicans spill in from neighboring towns and take over the Jardin.

I’m making preparations to move from my apartment into a house. Last night I met with my new landlords and they gave me the key. I can begin moving on Wednesday and they told me that if I covered their utility bills for the period that they were in the house (11 days), I can have the rest of the month of April for free. The only security I have put down is one month’s rent. My old landlords asked me to stay and offered the use of their home, as they will be in Europe, when my family arrives. Very nice but I declined since I’m already in contract on the new place.

My friend Alex’s 29th birthday is next Sunday and his mother, Andrea and I are planning a surprise party. Unbeknownst to him, his sister is flying in from New York. One plan is a bond fire at Andrea’s father’s ranch, another is renting out the hot springs for a night.