Quick Tips:

Best Way To Get Around:

The charming bartender, waiter, sous chef, Jose led us through the elegantly furnished restaurant to the terrace behind when we told him we didn't want to miss the sunset. We were seated at a beautiful tile-cover table with muslin umbrella overhead. We were alone on the terrace and from our perch had a magnificent view of the city, two lakes beyond and the mountains formed a backdrop for the picture! Then, as if the scene weren't already perfect - out of nowhere - a beautiful rainbow that arched over the terrace as if it appeared just for us.

We weren’t the only ones getting excited about the rainbow though. The entire Casa Blanca staff came running and cheering for the 'Good luck sign.'

It was a lovely evening and we supped on a delicious chicken dinner complete with white wine. The meal was perfect and served with such presentation! I most certainly will see many more sunsets from the terrace of Casa Blanca when I return to San Miguel.

We meandered through town heading toward the street called Calle Pedro Vargas in search of a park called The Mirador. We wanted to be there before sundown. Up and down the streets we went trying to find our way with a map, which, I’m now, certain, was less than accurate. Up, up streets and stairways, past construction workers building new multi-million condos among the more simple stucco homes. Since most of the trek was uphill ,of course, we had 'worked up a thirst' by the time we reached the top.

So we searched out a cold cerveza (beer) and by pure luck chose a simple looking, plain stucco front place called Casa Blanca. (See dining entry) From the terrace we wined and dined and were charmed by the fabulous staff while the sun slipped over the edge of San Miguel de Allende. I had accomplished my goal of viewing the city by sunset!

All year long, it seems, all the Mexican women save their eggshells. They must have a special way of getting the yolk and the whites out of the shell without breaking it. You can't imagine how many eggs they save!

Then they color them similar to what we do in the States with a traditional Easter Egg, fill them with colorful confetti, seal up the broken end with a bright crepe paper patch and some flour paste and VOILA! - You have yourself a weapon to be smashed over the head of an unsuspecting friend, sister, mother or any old smiling gringo in the park!

On Sunday the park was even more full than usual with families out to celebrate Egg Day. Vendors selling those brightly colored egg-Molotov-cocktails, huge paper flowers in every color of the psychedelic rainbow, pink cotton candy and balloons galore! It was definitely a holiday for the children and were they ever wired!

Their collective energy powered, I'm certain, by mountains and mountains of pure, pink, spun sugar on a stick, worked itself a wild frenzy by mid-afternoon.

And that's when we got egged. I was the first to get it, by two giggling, dark skinned, dark eyed cherubs. Then, just when my husband was feeling six-foot-safe and way too tall to be reached -- SMASH! A little boy climbed up on a park bench and popped him on the head from behind! We joined them all in the fun, laughing along, but soon we retreated to a safe distance from the park where we continued to watch yet another colorful Sunday in San Miguel. I’ve said it before. I'll say it again - These folks SURE know to celebrate!

I don't know the origin of this holiday, but I believe it is loosely connected to some ancient fertility rite and, also, has something to do with Lent. And, really, if you think about it, makes every bit a much sense as an imaginary blue bunny who colors chicken eggs and hides them for the children to find in the grass, don’t you agree?

Some had brightly colored capes, but most just yelled and waved their arms to attract Fernando their way. When the bull came charging for them they quickly leaped over the wall. The young matadors played a sort of game of dominos against the bull using Pepsi crates with the Dominos spots painted on the bottom. The idea was to complete the game without getting injured! Only one young hombre was hurt during the 2-and- a- half hour show and that was when he banged his head smartly on the wall as he dove to escape Fernando’s horns.

It was pleasant afternoon and it was as much fun to watch the Mexican families as the show in the ring below. Family is EVERYTHING in Mexico and even the littlest ninos were included in the celebration. It reminded me of going to a baseball game in the States. You could buy peanuts, popcorn or chips... with or without salsa. If you ordered them "with", then the vendor just opened the sack and squirted some salsa inside. Then you got to figure out how to eat it without making a mess of yourself!

I had heard that a bullfight is a metaphor for man's struggle as he reaches for the Light while he struggles against his own dark nature. It made me feel very philosophical about going to a bullfight. Which something I NEVER would have thought I would want to do. So, on Sunday I said "Why not?" and followed my husband to the Bull Ring, fully expecting to see Fernando slaughtered as the grand finale. But, thankfully, the bull was only chased and taunted and dodged by young hombres dressed in T-shirts and tight jeans. So much for the metaphor.

The funniest part was when they were done playing with the bull and wanted to put him back in the pen. One would grab him by the tail and when he began spinning in a circle trying to catching the young man holding his tail, the others would pounce on him from all sides grabbing his horns, ears and other body parts. Together they pushed and pulled him into the pen. And thus the expression "I've got the bull by the tail." You have heard of it, haven't you?

In San Miguel they usually start at the Parroquia, the big church across from the main square, and end at some predetermined home or church where refreshments are served and treats passed out the children. Sort of like 9 days of trick-or-treating, only much more reverent.

The procession is led by Mary, Joseph and the angel who may be riding in the bed of a truck, this would be real people, or carried on a tray, these would be statues. The throngs that follow include children dressed in Spanish peasant costumes, adults carrying candles, sparklers or lanterns and musicians ranging from saxophone players to guitars, mandolins and even whistles...yes I said whistles - squeaky little dime store whistles with a high pitched shrill. Then, of course, there's always a few gringos in the crowd. That would be me.

Never mind that they sing off-key, it's the spirit that matters. It is a colorful and impressive procession and every night a different route is chosen as Mary and Joseph look and look for a "room at the inn".

A pinata may be strung across the street to be broken by the children and confetti and candies rain on the procesion from balconies above. As with all things in Mexico it's a family event and everyone is involved. When they reach the house,or church, that has been chosen for the Posada, you hear their lilting refrain asking for shelter. The tune is unmistakable, even when heard from a distance. It is so precious that it is almost too painful to listen. Those on the outside and those on the inside of the house sing, alternatively back and forth, until the door is finally opened. Then, the party begins.

As I understand it, the costumes never change. Mary is always in white with a blue veil and a sombrero with blue and white flowers; Joseph is always in a deep yellow robe with a green cloak and always carries a staff and a gourd. I don't understand the symbolism for the gourd,but perhaps, it signifies harvest or abundance.

I participated in several Posadas this past Christmas (2001) and truly enjoyed the spirit of Love that literally filled the air in San Miguel at Christmastime. I wish we had something even close to this in hometown USA.

There were clowns for the children’s delight early in the evening, later two Mexican bands played on through the night, while locals and gringos alike danced, or at least tried to dance, under the light of a full moon and the lights of the Parroquia - lit with full night lights including a large cross of lights on it s very highest pinnacle.

At midnight church bells all over the city began to toll. The Parroquia s four bells - each as big as a large man - were pushed and pulled by hand, by young boys high in each tower. The bells went on and on, as did the fireworks! And what FIREWORKS!! Brilliant bursts of light and sparkle lit only 100 feet away from us that continued on without end. We danced on as the cinder shower fell on us, marveling at the entire experience.

Midnight in San Miguel year 2002 will definitely always be a moment in time suspended - there to be called up on some gray future day to re-brighten our mood as we recall........the moon, the people, the bells, the musica and, probably most of all, the fireworks - those amazing bursts of light and color that, just went on and on and on.