This year’s TEDx in San Miguel was packed to the gills, and predominantly with young people, many of them local students. Here, Xavier Fux speaks of Urban Agriculture as a promising strategy for the new Millennium. Other contributors included Sara Hoch, who has successfully dedicated herself to the revival of the Mexican film industry, and, as Director of the Guanajuato International Film Festival, is responsible for an extensive new headquarters for GIFF here in San Miguel, construction of which will begin in January, and which will include two auditoriums and extensive film, video, and sound production and post-production facilities. Spencer Tunick also turned up accompanied as usual with a bevy of nude ladies as his contribution to the theme of Future Now. I suppose that is one way of having a more optimistic view of the 21st Century. Just as I was getting cozy with the idea of rising sea-levels, global warming, and economic chaos.
TEDx San Miguel
Bamboozled
Just over three months ago we left San Miguel with all our bamboo neatly trimmed and no new shoots showing. On returning last week we discovered that several new shoots, including this one, which measured exactly 10 meters, or 33 feet, had rocketed skyward. It was also nearly 10 cm, or 4 inches, across the base. It reminds me of a story I once heard from Michael Caine, comparing gardening in California to gardening in England. “In England, you plant seeds exactly as described on the packet, water them religiously, and wait a couple of months. In California (as in Mexico) you throw them on the ground and jump backward”.
Perfect Manners
New Yorkers, the agent in his glass booth insisted when we recently went through immigration in Texas after flying in from Mexico, acted like deranged pirañas, fighting to get into the Subway, and stepping over dead bodies lying on the sidewalk, and he was mystified why anyone should ever wish to live here. Not a very good welcome for a visitor to the mighty US of A. We argued the point, to no avail, for quite a while. I wish I could have shown him this photo then of New Yorkers incredibly politely lined up for the M66 Crosstown bus. Even the Brits can’t match this degree of civic cool.
Saturday Morning Flicks
When I was a kid, and TV was a tiny black and white affair that ended with God Save The Queen at about 11:00 each evening, there was no greater thrill than the saturday morning flicks at the local Odeon cinema in Weymouth. Every week I would hurry down there clutching ten gigantic copper pennies in my clammy little fist, and open-mouthed, watch mad scientists in white coats, pull levers on death ray machines, disintegrating entire mountainsides in one puff. That, or trilby-hatted detectives with strange accents careering along the streets of Chicago or Los Angeles, before flying off the road into the Pacific ocean – to be continued next week (when miraculously, you would notice that they managed to jump free at the last second). This photo of my local 1933 Odeon Cinema was published, to my delight, in the latest copy of the RIBA Journal. Sadly, it was pulled down eight years ago to make way for a crappy block of flats.
Hey! Duh.
OK, so Swedish has some pronunciation problems here in the Americas, but Ikea’s replacement of one accented spelling with another phonetic one just doesn’t cut it. Actually, if you try for something like a cross between HAY DOH and HAY DOR, the average Swede would probably understand you were saying goodbye – and would be relieved that you were leaving. It is lucky this isn’t a street address, as Sjuttiosju (Seventy-Seven), for instance, defies any kind of phonetic alternative, involving as it does some very un-British mouth manipulations. As an Architect in Stockholm in 1961 I was frequently taunted to attempt that one, a perennial source of amusement for my Swedish colleagues after they had downed a couple of aquavits.
Birds, Bells, Bangs, and Barking
There is nothing nicer than to go onto the roof and sit under the Palapa as the sun comes up. Birds of all inclinations are twittering for attention, including the finches nesting in our bamboo; the bells of the surrounding churches (there are actually eight in this photo in the immediate vicinity) are summoning those who are easily induced; exploding rockets are summoning those who require a less subtle reminder; all setting the dogs off barking who probably just want to go to church as well if only to pee on the doorstep.
Rancheras For Rancheros
Yesterday evening in the Jardin, with very few people around, a group of Rancheros (or possibly just some locals with enough money to own horses) came past the Parochia, and happened upon a group of Mariachis who were there and who spontaneously started playing a Ranchera for them. No audience, no money passed hands, just a typical Mexican opportunity for a bit of gaiety to happen.
Egg Bonking Again
I had intended posting this at the beginning of February, but better late than never. Every year, for a couple of days before Lent, folks in San Miguel go nuts smashing confetti or ash-filled colored eggs, known as cascarones, on the heads of innocent bystanders. All around the perimeter of the Jardin, having spent an entire year eating nothing but omelettes, the overweight and cholesterol-infused cascarone vendors will sell you a bagfull for 20 pesos. Our friend Carmen directed us to this video about Cascarones, featuring her sister Maria.
Also Floating Around
Most mornings early, while the air is still cool, one hears the whoosh of the kerosine burner of a hot air balloon lofting intrepid visitors gently over the rooftops of El Centro. Seen here against the corner of our Palapa, this one roused me from my slumbers at around eight AM. One day I will summon up enough courage to do this although I am not sure my ancient joints will provide the necessary shock absorbance for the landing.
Is It a Bird? Is It a Plane? No, It’s a Helicam
This creepy little camcopter was floating around over us during our usual sojourn in the Jardin at dusk. Remote controlled and carrying its own lighting, it was filming the crowds milling around during Semana Santa.