A Much Needed Getaway

If I have learned one thing, its that Mexico is definitely not Spain. Sure, there are several similarities between my study abroad in Salamanca last year and working in San Miguel de Allende - language, food shopping, and making new friends being the top 3. But Salamanca was a carefree world of its own, filled with fun and discoveries. I am having much fun and making many discoveries in San Miguel. But this summer is also filled with challenges, with stark realities staring me in the face. Poverty, theft, frustration, denial.

Thus, I was ripe and ready for a break from San Miguel. Early Saturday morning, Kelsey and I headed out to Guanajuato, the university town I have heard so much about, the capital city of Guanajuato State. I arrived at the bus station huffing and puffing, the last person to board at 8:42 am, after leaving late and managing to lose my way on the way there (this is not hard - I constantly discover new streets and alleyways, especially when all I want to do is get from point A to point B hasslefree).

Not 90 minutes later, Guanajuato waved, Hola! The colorful houses literally sit on top of each other in this Toledo-like city, which is more mountainous and larger than SMA. Tourists and townsfolk alike wonder the callejons, as well as the underground tunnels, carved straight out of the rocky base. Lincoln Tunnel ain't got nothing on these drivers.

We booked a 3-hour-long tourist tour, and I was initially disappointed, because I had no desire to sit in another bus. But it turned out to be worth it. Our first stop was the Pipila, a gigantic monument from which you can see the entire city as a valley, surrounded by mountains. What a view. We then stopped off at a giftshop (I should have known, darn commercialism) and a sweets store (free samples galore), before heading to a basilica. The gilded carvings, we found out, were all done by Native American labor. Our next stop was a bit of an unwanted surprise - we entered a sunny garden, with beautiful purple orchids and quaint coffee tables. Our guide, a pretty girl with almond eyes, wore an unbecoming black robe, with her sneakers and jeans sneaking out from under. Wtf? I thought - and then it dawned on me: we were in for a your of an inquisition age torture chamber, complete with 4 mummified bodies and all the torture equipment you want. If this was not creepy enough, the crowd was full of children and toddlers. As we progressed deeper underground, the guide became more and more, um, passionate. I think she took great pleasure in showing how the torture machines worked, violently clanging the clasps on to the dummies. I nearly forgot about her sneakers. I was relieved when our bus drove away, babies crying, old ladies stuffing themselves with sweets. How anyone could eat after that, I still don't know. But they saved the best for last. Guanajuato, prior to becoming a tourist attraction, was a mining town in the 1800s. So, we descended into a mine. Ever since I read Tom Sawyer, I have had a fear of underground caves and tunnels, but fears are to be overcome, no? In any case, the quartz formations, the stallelites (right spelling?) and even the dripping water all testified to the beauty and creation of nature. And we got to climb into one of the rail carts. I still shudder, though, thinking of all the people who died just for some rich lady to have a fancy engagement ring. I have been set on no diamonds for a while, but now I think I may say goodbye to gold and silver as well.

After lunch, we visited the childhood home of Diego Rivera, and then met up with Sandra, TEATRO's acting teacher. She and her husband guided us to the Callejon de Los Besos, a street that gets so narrow that balconies touch. The legend goes that two star-crossed lovers who lived across the street from each other were forbidden to marry by their families, but they would meet on their balconies to kiss and talk. Ahhh... the Mexican Romeo and Juliet. We then went to the Teatro Juarez, a beautiful structure with Arabic-influenced interior, rumored to be one of the three best theaters in all of Mexico.

That ended the tour of the Centro for the day, as Sandra and her husband drove us over to a beautiful dam with a waterfall and a spectacular mountain view. (Tragically, one of the walls broke in 1905, flooding the entire city - there are still signs marking the waterlevel in the streets). Another creepy and true story - they used to let the prisoners out once a year during the holidays and drop them down the waterfall, giving them freedom if they survived. Ouch.

Kelsey headed back to San Miguel, but the rest of us went to another panaroma viewing site, this time from the other side of the city. Free of tourists, full of cactus, and with nothing but sky and mountains all around, a profound peace enveloped us. Even the increased chilliness of the air seemed irrelevant. I felt good. The site also had a rock theater carved out, and housed a still functioning mine. It reminded me of childhood summers in Sevastopol.

We ate delicious Michoacan fare at the couple's favorite restaurant, and retreated to their house for the night. Their beagle, Fido, jumped on his masters as soon as we entered. Sandra is really wonderful - she lent me two books on immigration, and gave me a long tour of her warm, tastefully decorated home, explaining every piece about which I was curious. I especially loved their selection of teas, their sun-themed furniture, and the fact that the dog house was smack in the middle of the backyard. After a good night's rest, I descended for breakfast, and we chatted about New York, Guanajuato, theater and my Ukraine-ness over eggs and mango and papaya.

They dropped me off back at the centro, and I took my time exploring the area on my own. I first stopped at the Alhondiga, an important war site now converted into a museum, housing Aztec art, colonial / revolutionary historical objects, and numerous murals and gigantic head sculptures of the revolutionary heroes. I wondered around for two hours, before heading off for a quiet lunch at a cafe, and continuing to the Iconographic Museum - 20 rooms full of nothing but Don Quijote paintings and scuptures! What a place - so many brush strokes, colors, and all different, all unique to the artist's point of view. I got to room 17 before being kicked out, as the museum closed early on Sundays. My last location, not including aimless wandering, was the screening of the winners of the Expression in Corte film festival. The movie featured the life of a young Mexican gang member, the HIV+ girl he falls in love with and their struggles to get lifted. The only person in the whole movie who had her stuff together was a transsexual named Lulu. I cried.

Emerging outside from the literal darkness of the theater, I walked around for about half an hour before haling a cab to the bus station. This time, I got there half an hour early - and fell into an exhausted, satisfied sleep as the wheels rolled on, carrying me back to San Miguel.