Ode to Christine

My first memory of Christine is at Alex’s house. (She says we met before but it was at La Cucaracha so big surprise that I don’t remember.) A group of us were helping put together a benefit for the workers at the pyramid. Christine walked in the door. “Sorry I’m late. I had to go have my poop checked.” I liked her immediately.

When we met she was a school teacher at a local bi-lingual school. Since then she has worked as an office manager, personal assistant, wedding planner, project manager and most recently, a Real Estate Agent. She has had enough of trying to scratch out a living in Mexico. Shortly she will be moving back to the states.

The truth is San Miguel is not a great place for a young person to make a living. One is never going to get ahead working for someone else. Wages are just too low. If one has sufficient capital and builds a business, there is probably still opportunity; but not as an employee.

Over the years, we have convinced many people that Christine is my daughter. Given that there are 20 years between us, it is possible. And since we are both blonds, people buy it. They are also impressed by what a modern family we are, given Christine’s great relationship with her stepmother Rodrigo.

As a bi-lingual blond attracted to Mexican men, she has left a fair share of broken hearts in her wake. One night, at La Cuca a man wanted to go home with the two of us for a three-way. It took about a nanosecond for us to say that, as close as we are, that would be beyond the scope of our relationship.

We have traveled together, laughed together, fought and cried together. We tease each other, play jokes at each other’s expense, and when drunk we solve the problems of the world. Rod and I know and love her family and when they visit, they are our extended family.

We usually see her multiple times every week and love her beyond words. Her departure will leave a hole in our lives, an emptiness that will be impossible to replace. But this is what is right for her and for her future, so we understand.

And she is taking Mario, her Mexican boyfriend with her. So she got what she came for.

Sorry Christine, but below is your payback for leaving us!

Snakes

A few minutes ago, I found Noche, or El Gatito (our Persian kitten) playing with one of these on the patio. I threw Noche into the house, grabbed an old wine box (we have a few of those lying around) and placed it in front of the snake. He went right in. I carried him to the fence and threw him over. Then I came into the house, walked over to the computer and typed in, “Photo Baby Rattlesnake” and, among many photos came this one. Same pattern; I’d swear by it. I’m a little freaked out.

(The photo isn’t very good but I didn’t have the foresight to photograph the little fella before throwing him over the fence.)

So far, Noche seems fine.

Paul Potts singing Opera

Nothing to do with Mexico, but everything to do with following your dreams.

San Luis Potosi

About 2 hours from San Miguel de Allende, is a city of about a million people called San Luis Potosi. Mark and Victor moved there approximately six months ago and are nearly finished remodeling their new house (which they bought for a song compared to San Miguel).

“The city is so clean you can eat off the streets . . .” Mark kept telling us. Intrigued by their stories and haunted by their invitations, Christine, Mario, Rodrigo and I set out for an overnight trip. (We also had Victor to guide us since he had taken the bus to San Miguel a few days prior.)

When we arrived, Mark gave us a tour of their modest five bedroom home, including hardwood floors (how I miss those), enormous walk-in closets, beveled glass sliding doors, a modern kitchen to kill for, a garage and a separate entrance where Victor intends to open a café/gallery; all this walking distance to the historic center.

I begrudgingly put down Griselda, their eight week old Chihuahua, and we set out for dinner. We had been told that San Luis has scored number three in the world as a “City of Lights” (behind Paris and Prague) because of the way they illuminate their historic district at night. In addition, it has to be the cleanest Mexican city that I have ever visited.

We had a delightful dinner at a restaurant called Apicus http://www.apikus.com/, overlooking the square. As we were leaving it began to rain. We darted into a local gay bar (unlike San Miguel, San Luis has several gay bars) where an extremely young crowd was gathered. So young, in fact, that I began to feel a bit like a chaperone. So after we consumed the free beverages that were included with our cover charge, we departed for our second venue. By this time we had to jump small rivers to get into taxis.

(Apparently, back in San Miguel, it was raining as well, because Christine received a call from one of her co-workers. He had borrowed his boss’s daughter’s car and the water level in town had risen so high that the car was beginning to float down Canal Street.)

Mark & Victor

Me & Strippers

Wherever we went, Christine, Mark and I were the only gringos. It was really endearing when I would order in Spanish and the waiters would respond in English, apparently eager to practice. “How’s my English?” one waiter asked me. “Better than my Spanish.”

It was still raining when we left at 4:00 AM. Declining Mark’s offer to take us to yet another venue, we couldn’t find taxis to take us home. “It’s only about five blocks,” Mark said. I didn’t count but those seemed an awfully long five blocks at 4:00 in the morning in the rain.

Mario & Griselda (after running in the rain)

The next day we walked to a breakfast place in an old mansion and later, while Christine was getting a pedicure, we briefly walked the neighborhood. We had a late lunch at a wonderful Sushi restaurant, where the floor was Plexiglas over a goldfish pond. (How traumatic that must be for the goldfish, constantly thinking, “I could be next.”)

Rodrigo and I at the park near Mark & Victor's home

Barely resisting the urge to pack Griselda in our overnight bag, we left for the Casino on our way out of town. Mark has won over $30,000 USD playing the slots since moving to San Luis. We were not so lucky and hit the road after sinking a few hundred pesos each.

The rains have continued daily, usually in the evenings. The grass is growing faster than the gardener can cut it. Two places on the road to our property are either covered by mud or a moving stream, and our poor maid walks to work. She told me that while we were gone, she had to wade through the stream to get to work, and her pants got wet to just below the knee. Since we were not home she removed her pants and worked the rest of the day with a towel around her waist. So off we went to the store where I bought her some rubber “botas”. She is sporting them with pride.