Agave americana

I have developed a great fondness for the noble Agave americana, sometimes known as the Century Plant, also known as maguey in Mexico and American aloe in the United States.




Here is a young plant in the foreground photographed on 29 January 2010.

Bicycle Problem Solved

My bicycle situation has been a niggling problem ever since I arrived here a year ago. I brought my Trek 1000 road bike with me. That was one of Trek's basic road bikes around 2004. I presume they are still making them and still selling a gazillion. Good, solid, relatively inexpensive bicycle. In fact that is the bicycle that I road across the state of Iowa with my granddaughter during the 2008 version of the Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa.

Unfortunately, the Trek 1000 was absolutely worthless here where there are very steep hills and streets paved with cobblestone. The setup of the gears and those little, thin tires just did not work. You also need a little more suspension than simply the natural flex of the frame. The last time I had ridden it more than a block was in May of last year in Texas.





I scraped together enough pesos to purchase a used Trek 4300 trail bike, and I am delighted with it. Great bike ride today after I picked it up at noon.







Even more good news. Herman at the bike shop here in San Miguel took the Trek 1000 on consignment. He actually thinks he can sell it here—probably to a tourist who will take it home with him. It has been well maintained.

Anyway, this is a good thing to have figured out finally.

The Curtain Project

The Curtain Project is important because it will lead to greater things for me. I have learned to make curtains out of an indigenous material that for want of a better phrase we shall call large burlap wheat sacks.




Here I am serving my brief apprenticeship learning how to make curtains.






Here are some of my curtains.




When the sun is not behind them, you can read the text, which I think adds an air of rustic authenticity to them. I like that.

I am now going to declare myself to be an artisan specializing in curtains made from indigenous material that for want of a better phrase we shall call large burlap wheat sacks.

I must rent some space in the market.

Morning Walk in May

The morning walk is quite pleasant right now. It stays cool until noon and then builds up to the hottest part of the day between 2:00 p.m. and 4:00 p.m.



The guys from the city were trimming the trees in Plaza San Antonio just up the block this morning.

U.S.A. Report V

I ought to make clear the spirit in which I offer these things. First, I simply thought the “Control Our Boarder” placard was funny. I have dealt with a fair number of frustrating landlord/tenant problems myself. I sympathized.

Ill-drafted protest signs, placards, and banners incorporating misspellings can be found across the political spectrum. The Right does not have a monopoly on that. I marched in the streets outside the Republican National Convention in St. Paul, Minnesota, in 2008 and am witness to this.

I guess I should not say “across the political spectrum” because that big lump in the Center seldom hits the streets. One never sees a protest sign incorporating Aristotle's “Moderation In All Things!” Perhaps the Center is too busy or distracted what with watching “Dancing With The Stars” to get out in the street often.

Anyway, though neither the Left nor the Right diligently spellcheck their protest signs, their slogans do have a different flavor. The Left has a tendency to rely heavily on obscenity and scatology. For example, here is an old left-winger in the streets during the George W. Bush administration falling back into his youthful speech patterns:





On the other hand over on the Right there is a kind of endearing innocence about it all. It is heartwarming, for example, to see poorer people sticking up for richer people.





The most striking thing of all about the Right, however, is those folks' absolute mastery of irony:

U.S.A. Report IV

In April we began a project that involved taking the pulse of the nation up there. Not the pointy-headed intellectuals. Only the salt of the earth. Then I let you down on this project. Let's start to catch up.

The Pigeon Project

Two of the culprits.

There are always multiple projects in the works at La Mexicana’s house. One of the current projects is The Pigeon Project.




This is a view toward the rear of La Mexicana’s house on the main floor. Notice the large window behind the kitchen area.




That looks out into a small, walled-in, outdoor space, which is La Mexicana’s utility and work area.






The water heater and gas tanks sit out there. No need to shelter these things in this climate. There is also an old birdcage and many plants on the wall, which are important.




There are of course the obligatory glass shards embedded along the top of the back wall.




Lots of pigeons hang around on the walls and ledges above, which drives La Mexicana wild. She hates the sound of pigeons. She hates the pigeon mess. Not to put too fine a point on it, she hates pigeons and everything about them. A female, she shares these feelings with the pigeons. The upside of this is that I am learning many new Spanish words. I was previously completely unaware of the fact that some Mexican pigeons engage in prostitution.




While I was in the United States, La Mexicana went over to Bahia de Potosí on the Pacific and stayed at a palace on the beach there owned by her friends, Ali and Naomi.




She worked diligently on her marksmanship with a BB gun that she borrowed from a neighbor. She returned needing only to arm herself. We have been looking for a BB gun to purchase. We visited the toy stall at Mercado Ignacio Ramirez up town to inquire.




The proprietor had in stock this ChiCom weapon, displayed here on a very Mexican oil cloth. It is most definitely not a BB gun. It is a plastic weapon, approximately 20 inches long, that shoots little plastic pellets. La Mexicana asked whether it would at least be effective enough to frighten off the pigeons. Predictably, the proprietor assured her that he personally had frightened off all the pigeons in the state of Jalisco with this very weapon.

He then completed the sale by pointing out the inscription on the side of the weapon: DO NOT SHOOTATANY [one word] HUMAN OR ANIMAL . . . which is of course exactly what La Mexicana intended to do with it.

If one hits a pigeon--I say, IF one hits a pigeon--the pigeon does get slightly nervous and ruffles its feathers. The weapon has a muzzle velocity slightly slower than I can run and a maximum effective range of ten feet. Bright birds that they are, the pigeons have quickly learned to stay eleven feet away from La Mexicana when they see that she is armed.



Pondering The Pigeon Project.

Her frustration has inspired me in the midst of my lethargy. I am fine with the pigeons. I am at complete peace with the pigeons. I have studied the writings of Albert Schweitzer and harbor a deep reverence for life. But on the other hand I feel sorry for her. I must visit the big Tuesday market on the edge of town and see if I can find a BB gun.

Next Tuesday. Not today.

May in Mexico

I have tried to describe in words what the month of May is like in San Miguel de Allende.







But one picture is worth a thousand words, to coin a phrase.