I’m a snowbird, a Canadian who flocks during those nastier of the northern months to San Miguel de Allende. This past November, when I returned, I felt a little ignored, perhaps neglected, even rejected. The phone calls, the emails, the words-of-mouth, the messages...
I was humming a tune from an old Greek movie as I sauntered into Centro, changing the “but never” lyrics to the more apropos, “…but only on a Sunday, a Sunday, a Sunday…”. I was meeting up with my buddy Andy, my eat-just-about-anything buddy Andy. On separate...
So there I was, walking down Hernandez Macias, on my way to Kenny’s for some Buffalo wings and one of his fully-loaded caesars and in the distance I see a sheep. Could it be, I thought, could it really be? I’ve been lamenting a lot lately, desperately missing El Pato,...
It’s been happening in San Miguel de Allende for a few years now. A group of guys gets together once a week and complains about the weather, food prices, sports, politics, TV reception, booze prices, traffic, grandkids, their health and the fact that their wives...
I admit it. I am a food snob. A nose in the stratosphere prig when it comes to food. And that sometimes presents problems. Major problems. The first Mexican dish I ever ate was a taco. Well, OK, this taco wasn’t really Mexican. But I thought it was. I was sure it was....
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