Throughout all my travels, I have always been a “places” person. When I choose a destination, I do so based on redeeming qualities like scenic beauty, architectural ambiance, or wonders of nature. Oh, sure, I talk about going for “the culture,” but I am really there for the eye candy. Continue reading
I get news that Jim and Gayle are passing down I-10 on their way from getting Jim’s Frequent Visitor Card stamped at the Mayo Clinic, so we decide to rendezvous at Saddle Mountain near Tonopah, AZ. I am excited to see them, as it was early December when we said our goodbyes, and I am in bad need of some laughs and philosophical discussions on the hiking trail. Continue reading
Having extended my stay in the overflow lot in McDowell for four straight days, I grow weary of the “day to day availability game,” so I decide to move over to Lost Dutchman State Park. I want a closer look at the Superstition Mountains I have been admiring from a distance all week. But being high season, Lost Dutchman is also full. Continue reading
After three weeks in Mexico and another 10 days in Texas, stepping back into the Winnie never felt so much like “Home Sweet Home.” Thankfully, everything was still just as I left it. The engine was a little slow to start, as was the propane, but after a few false starts, by the time my bags were unpacked and things put away, everything was firing on all cylinders. Continue reading
It didn’t take long after my arrival in San Miguel to realize I was in hiking withdrawal. After a couple of walks all the way across town to the Mega Supermarket “just to have some place to go,” I realized the cobblestone streets of Centro Historico were not going to be enough to satiate my need for perpetual motion that had plagued me since retirement in October. I still seemed to be suffering from “restless leg syndrome.” Continue reading
If it’s Tuesday, this must be….market day!
Early Tuesday morning, a steady stream of taxis, delivery vehicles and farm trucks rumble up the hills of the Cuesta de San Jose and Canal Street toward San Miguel’s Tuesday Market, also known as “Tianguis del Martes.” It only takes place on Tuesdays (ergo the name “Tuesday Market,”) between the hours of 9am and 4pm. Just the fact that an open-air market of this size, estimated to be as large as three football fields, can set up and disassemble so quickly for only one day a week makes it worth the trip. Continue reading
Despite the near-perfect climate at 6,200 ft elevation, the fact that San Miguel de Allende has such a large expat community can be mostly attributed to the arts. If the Parroquia and Jardin are the heart of the city, the Instituto Allende is the creative right brain. Continue reading
It was my sixth or seventh trip to San Miguel de Allende. I’ve lost count of the visits there spanning from two weeks to two months since 2007. My brother Don first broke the news that he had read about this mountain town / artist community that some gringos consider utopia in old Colonial Mexico, so he was driving his Toyota Land Cruiser down from Texas for a month to check it out. He had received a book for Christmas, Tony Cohan’s On Mexican Time, a book that would prompt a permanent paradigm shift for us both about our neighbors to the south. Continue reading
That is not meant as a slam, instead it is meant as a “Thank you” to the friends and followers who have sent personal notes to check in and see if I am doing okay, since as one friend put it, “You’ve gone dark.” Your notes of care and concern mean a lot to me.
I temporarily lost my blogging mojo. Continue reading
By now, news of my Dad has come from home, and I need to get to an airport and find a place to stow the Winnie to fly back to Texas. Phoenix seems to be the most logical option, so as not to have to winterize the Winnie (pay no attention to that recent snow covering on the saguaros!) So I head for McDowell Mountain Regional Park, a place I have been before, so I am familiar with the area. I will make this my base for a couple of days while I scout out suitable storage areas. Continue reading