SPRING IS UPON us, and it’s the first time in all my time here, which is to say the entire century so far, plus one year, that we have passed through a winter without one overnight freeze.
Normally, overnight freezes are common hereabouts in winter, and I tend to favor them. It keeps more Gringos from moving to our Colonial town. We have enough Gringos already, somewhere in the neighborhood of 300, I hear tell. When I arrived, there were about 40. The trend is troubling.
Nobody in their right mind wants another San Miguel where waiters speak to you in English, price-gouging goes through the roof, and you can’t leave your house untended due to the line of burglars waiting around the corner. Nor do we want Gringos walking about dressed like artists, smiling insipidly all the time.
Just the thought of it makes me shiver.
On the other hand, a freeze-free winter encourages the plants. Birds of Paradise normally don’t bloom in March at the Hacienda, but we’ve got a bunch outside right now. The monster bougainvillea is berserk, and that aloe vera gets beefier every year.
Walking from the bedroom to the kitchen this morning, light from the big dining room window shone onto this living room wall, so I snapped a shot. It’s sorta dark, but I’m no pro and don’t pretend to be. The bamboo-framed oil painting on the right was purchased in Havana two years ago.
Cuba is a nasty place. Don’t go there. Mexico is a great place. Come visit. Then go home. If you do decide to settle here, which is not a bad idea, believe me, go to San Miguel, please. You won’t even have to learn Spanish. The waiters already speak your tongue. So do the burglars, one supposes.