Return to San Miguel

Being away  in Hungary, Czech Republic and Slovenia for several weeks, familiar sounds distinct to San Miguel ensure my psyche that I’m back home again.  Ringing church bells, pre-dawn fireworks, (two sense arousers not always welcomed by light sleepers and jittery dogs), and the clanging kettle bell signaling the trash truck is close by.  Sanmiguelenses, oftentimes along with visitors, can distinguish the differences in the noises arising from the calles.  Have you heard the shrill whistle?  It’s not Zamfir’s pan flute, rather the knife-sharpener on his bicycle.  There’s the certain sound of a pick-up truck with a horn signaling the delivery of unpasteurized goats’ milk.  Walking to yoga close to school pathways I hear the chirping of commuting students.  Just before or just after class, the pounding of drums and flurries of bugles indicate marching drills are going on, remnants of past Spanish and French Colonialism.

In the Jardin, you may watch the adventurous pre-schooler charging a flock of foraging pigeons; the entire flock lifts in one motion to fly away with the sound of flapping unison.  Sit on a bench listening to the morning chatter among residents, mostly in Spanish.  During early evening hours, if there is any doubt you are in Mexico, the mariachis in traditional outfits break out the brass.  Violins merge with trumpets and guitars, as exuberant male voices serenade jardinenitos.  Across the Jardin, often in front of the Parroquia, we will find students dressed in 16th century Iberian style clothing, with valor singing out to those gathered.  The players strum their vintage stringed instruments to our delight.

From late June until early October, decibel-wise, fireworks can be trumped only by the thunderous thunder we get in San Miguel during pre-sunset or pre-dawn storms.  Walking on some of the main thoroughfares, our reverie is interrupted by the growl of the brick trucks often making it difficult to carry on conversations over the grinding engines.  Tuesdays, as I head to the open-air  tiangius for our fresh fruit and vegetables for the week, the way up the caracol is punctuated by the roar of the 18-wheelers down-shifting to brake their descent often drowning out conversation and causing me to grip the steering wheel tightly.   Vendors at the market cry “Barato! Barato! Cheap! Cheap!”.  Another inquires if I want a slice  of heavenly smelling pan de zanahoria.

Hombres trudge streets with Pavarotti voices calling out “Elote! Elote!”   Young women carry huge armfuls of long-stemmed roses in every imaginable hue shyly inquiring if I’d like some.  Roosters cockle-doodle-doo near the break of dawn and long beyond.  Rooftop dogs add their cacophony to the mix, along with the sound of vehicle tires going over cobblestones.  Occasionally we will awaken to hear the clip-clop of horses outside our windows, trabajadores on their way to work.  The slower clip-clop sound of the dirt or firewood merchant’s donkey slides under our doorway causing our puppies to let them know whose territory this house is.  Almost daily at sunrise, the whoosh of the hot air balloons is noticed as they glide across our rooftop as part of their journey above town.  Multitudinous birds vie for a space at our feeders, in the trees, the wall, any perch will do.

Toward twilight, it gets really quiet and peaceful (unless there is a birthday fiesta or a heavily followed fútbol team is winning…) and one can admire the postcard picturesqueness of the cityscape with spot lights reflecting off churches as a starry sky spreads overhead.  My favorite kind of San Miguel sound!

(Sorry no pictures, the ear canal is tough to take a selfie of!)

The Jose Cuervo Tequila Express-Guadalajara to Tequila!

 

The Tequila Express

After talking about taking the Tequila train from Guadalajara for a couple of years we finally rolled into the train station parking lot with a group of friends.  Upon arrival in the lounge area, we were treated to various Mexican punches and a table laden with pastries.  Oh yum, just what we needed to start our day!  After wandering down the tracks to our car, we discovered we were to be attended to by a delightful hostess and waiters with a desire to pour as many margaritas, tequila sunrises, salty dogs, or pure shots, as we could possibly consume. Each car had it’s own bar, hostess and servers to be sure we were happy and wanted for nothing on this 2 hour journey from Guadalajara to the town of Tequila.

It’s a long train, winding it’s way through the mountains.

Always attentive, the waiters made sure we were very, VERY happy!

As far as the eye can see for miles, geometric blue fields of agave grow for 8-12 years before harvesting.

Our long black train wound through the mountains covered by millions of blue agave plants.  Although there are around 200 varieties of agave plants, only the blue agave is used for tequila.  These succulent plants require no watering, growing only from the nutrients in the soil along with any annual rainfall they are blessed with.  Plants are not harvested until they are between 8 & 12 years old.  Maintenance is simply to hack off the ends of each leaf as they can grow to 3 meters (almost 10 feet).  Only the base, or the piña…pineapple, is used for the tequila; the remainder is used for propagation, and the pulp to make baskets and paper.

As we huffed our way into the station of Pueblita Magico de Tequila, (the magical town of Tequila) established in 1752, we found it to be a small town of only 42,000 residents and 27 distilleries.  Like France’s regions  of Champagne and Burgundy are proprietary of their champagne and burgundy. all tequila agave  must be grown and processed in this region to legally carry the name.  The quality standards are extremely high.  Inferior production can be found along the roadside very inexpensively.

Cuervo is Spanish for crow, thus the Jose Cuervo distillery uses it for their logo. Statues of the big black birds are everywhere, including a live one that we swear was at least 3 feet tall, looking sinister in it’s huge iron cage.  An annual procession through town is held from the various distilleries to the local cemetery to “bury bad humor”!   Obviously with the rise in popularity for tequila worldwide, there should be absolutely no reason for bad humor!

Cuervo meaning crow, is the logo for Jose Cuervo.

Antique distribution trucks

Antique distribution vehicles.

Paper and baskets made from the pulp of the agave pineapple.

Tequila town center

A tile mural in town square

Wandering through this charming town, we found shops selling by-products of the agave, along with artisans’ crafts, and many tequila tasting shops and the ever-present mom and pop restaurants.

Completing our day in Tequila before heading back to the train, we were treated to a dance performance by a brilliantly dressed, accomplished Mexican dance troupe, while we were served the smo-o-0-o-o-o-o-thest añejo tequila Cuervo makes.

A full day, completed by Mexican dance troupe.

Ancient bingo boards

The train journey back included more tequila drinks and sandwiches, while our hostess passed around old Mexican bingo cards which were the identical ones used in schools by one of our companions 75 years ago.  It was way too much fun for everyone on the train.  This was yet another terrific adventure in Mexico!