Fragments

We have been here in San Miguel now for two weeks.  The time is flying by so fast, each day exquisite and my life is perfect.  Here is a bit of my journal:

We walk everywhere and always there is something interesting to see and experience.  There are two things I want to mention that stand out here.  One makes no sense, the other is just unique to Mexico I think.  The one that makes no sense is the way the sidewalks are constructed.  First of all, they are very narrow so two people can't walk side by side and have a conversation while strolling down the street.  Next, as you are walking along single file, suddenly there is a telephone pole or sometimes a tree right smack dab in the middle of the sidewalk and in order to go around it you have to step into the street.  Be careful there isn't a taxi or bus coming toward you.  Once in awhile there will be a pipe sticking up out of the sidewalk for no apparent reason, so you had better keep your eyes on your feet.  The other day someone dropped a jar of mustard on the sidewalk.  Each day I watched as the splattered mustard became drier and drier.  Oh yes, there are a lot of stray dogs around and you know where they choose to do their duty...of course, on the sidewalk we are ambling down.  I consider every day walking the streets an adventure.

The other thing I call unique to Mexico is the various aromas in the air.  As I walk down the street, if I am breathing and managing to keep my feet out of trouble, I notice the smell of fresh laundry soap, but a few moments later I smell rotting produce.  As I pass an open clothing store, a whiff of Patchouli incense fills my nostrils;  then I may smell freshly baked bread coming from the panaderia I pass and next the exhaust from an urbano, the local bus.  Then perhaps a young Mexican man will walk by me and leave a trail of after shave that will make me dizzy with nostalgia for my adolescent days.  And so it goes, a woman's perfume, rotting vegetables, fresh bread, laundry soap, the cooking oil smell of someone frying tortillas on the corner, a never ending inhalation of aromas coming and going and sparking images from my past and perhaps even memories from a future yet to be.