Maybe it was the rainbow that had me thinking. How not much has changed (thankfully) since Don Day made one of the best decisions of his life and started to spend a few months each year in San Miguel de Allende. Except, perhaps for one thing. Eleven years ago when Don...
Don Day and Don Day’s Wife were in Cent’Anni’s wine bar early on Thursday night. It was 7:30 pm and there were a grand total of two of us in a San Miguel restaurant that probably holds well over a hundred. The decor dangerously uses white and beige...
Don Day only lived in France for a short time. But it was enough time for a long romance. The object of Don Day’s deep affection was called Madiran. Every Sunday, Don Day and the rest of the escapees from the asylum (what the locals called the expats) would host...
In all of the years I’ve been writing Don Day in SMA, I’ve never re-posted a blog. Until today. And not just because I’m feeling lazy (but, yes, that did play a part). I’ve been reading a lot about ice cream in San Miguel de Allende lately. I...
I never quite understood Julie Andrews. When the dog barks or when the bee stings…neither does a thing for Don Day. Since the days when I was knee high to a chapuline, Don Day’s favorite things have always been wine, women and song. And, even more so, if...
Oh my God! I’d become my mother-in-law! I should have known it was coming. Why did I use doilies when I served the guys’ sausage lunch last week? Why in hell’s name had I bought those patchwork shorts at La Pulga? Why had I suddenly started listening...
Don Day first discovered Campo Viejo Rioja about 30 years ago. I was on holiday in Spain and going through an image transition. I was trying to leave the slob behind that only I loved and metamorphose (I think it’s a word) into one of the sophisticates who...
Have you ever noticed that, no matter how small the North American town is that you’re passing through, no matter how far away it is from anything else even remotely Asian, there’s always a Chinese restaurant. With that in mind, Don Day wasn’t...
Don Day always wanted to see the Hot Club of France. But the Hot Club of France disappeared from this world about the same time Don Day appeared in this world. So Don Day had to be content to listen to recorded forms of gypsy jazz instead. The closest Don Day ever...
If Don Day tipped too much tequila one evening and ran into a genie on the way home, right after wishing her name was Barbara Eden and then wishing she respond to every request with “Yes, Master”, I would use my third wish to patch a great big hole in San Miguel...
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