Conjuring San Miguel

Being in a funk has me daydreaming about other places. I stare out the window from my bed at the naked trees and grey sky and long for the escape of the recent adventures in Mexico. In particular, my thoughts drift to one special place, San Miguel de Allende. If you haven't been, I offer you this...

It's often hard to describe a place, each person has different sensibilities so just because I say it is great doesn't mean YOU will love it. But I do have to say I think I have excellent taste and San Miguel de Allende is a sparkling jewel in the huge country of Mexico. That is saying A LOT, I know, roll with me here. The small, historic town has kept the ancient tiny rock streets... literally which does make it ridiculous to drive or walk down in some places, but hey, it looks soooooo cute! A little background on me, I will often forgo comfort for adorable so this is no different. Something like the Prada, snakeskin heels I have in my closet that make me so happy to look at... and simultaneously bring tears to my eyes remembering the last time I wore them. In addition they have managed to add in comfort!!! Not the shoes, the town, the shoes will be forever stained in blood. It is literally dripping in charm as the waterfalls of bougainvillea shocks in wildly vivid colors and the stone structures mix with soft crumbling walls topped with rustic-chic signs for restaurants and shops. Everything is comfortable, yet fancy. 5 star accommodations, 5 star meals, 5 star shopping... all at bargain prices, especially during a pandemic. They have massive structure to their protocols and are topnotch in sanitizing. We were allowed into the town only by passing a temperature check for everyone in the car and showing our hotel reservations. It is not an option to decide if you want to wear a mask or be sanitized or have your entire person sprayed down, it is mandatory to enter even an outdoor space. I loved it! 

The town claims to be the heart of Mexico and begs that you buy the Milagro hearts to remember it by or at least an embroidered jacket that reminds you that you left your heart, not in San Francisco, but in San Miguel. The many rooftop restaurants enchant you with glorious views and showstopper culinary delights and I haven't even gotten to the wine! It has been 10 years since we have been to Mexico, truly Mexico, not the just-over-the-boarder Mexico and the difference in the wines is astounding. I excitedly imbibed every beautiful Mexican wine I could find and by the end probably drank my weight, two fold, in vino... which is saying a lot.

Now not drinking, I scroll through photos of wine labels, luscious glasses of ruby drink beckoning me back. San Miguel is not only a charmed place that sits magically perfect in my memory, but also conjures up the feeling I had then as I anticipated treatment over a delicious glass of wine with a much more optimistic view. Only a few weeks ago, but a world away now, I anticipated starting chemo as a means to an end where I would be feeling so much better, restored even. I had been using the imagery of the treatment as a purification, like wiping the slate clean and starting fresh. I mean there really isn't anything else like a good dose of chemo to rid the body of ...well, everything. Maybe this will really be the end of the string of odd illnesses, I mused, and I will emerge on the other side a new vessel ready to move into the 2nd half of my life fresh and new. 

As I try to meditate myself back into the lightness of San Miguel, my mood swings back and forth wildly, like the tone of this post. I feel the outpouring of love and support from all of you that have been messaging me and I glimmer the light at the end of that claustrophobic tunnel, thank you for showing me that it is there.

In memoriam for all the wonderful wines of Mexico I drank, please seek out one and pour a glass thinking of me, because you know I can't currently Wine First. 

Karma, Karma, Karma, Karma, Karma, Ch...Chemotherapy

It's amazing, I have been home only 13 full days and it feels like we never left. The piles of laundry, work details and responsibilities have eclipsed the lazy happiness of vacation. I always wonder how I can hold on to the sense of vacation and travel bliss while at home, but I have not figured out the secret. To top it off, I have started chemo treatments to battle the severely developing autoimmune disease rheumatoid arthritis I have. Yay!

For those of you behind in the story, a quick review... last spring I started to have aches and pains, I naturally thought it was 2020 and ignored it. By mid summer I was getting these strange "attacks" where I would have severe pain in my hands, fingers or wrists, but it would subside and I would say out loud "whoa, that was weird" and that was that. One of these attacks was witnessed by my teenage daughter who watched me in bewilderment as the pain caused my arm to seize and my body crumpled oddly in pain. By early fall I had pain in most of my joints, most of the time, then horror of horrors came the day I couldn't open a bottle of wine. Shit just got real! Now, now I will see my doctor. Very quickly I hit all the markers to be referred to a rheumatologist who confirmed the severity and quick progression and wanted to start aggressive treatment right then, however my daughter needed support in a giant way and a new scenery was the answer so Mexico trumped everything. Fast forward to now and Sunday was day one of treatment.

It's a low dose chemo taken by pill once a week. Each week it will increase slightly and then plateau at a dose that I will keep at for the following month. Tests will be done and we will see if we need to increase the dose, add in another drug or go to injectables. I feel my doctor is very thorough and really good at her specialty... and just a tiny bit scary. I completely see why some people have not clicked with her, but after sharing a moment together in her office where we both cried and she spoke as mother to mother about my urgency to go to Mexico... well, now I am bound to her forever. 

"What is chemo like?" is the big question on everyone's mind, am I right? Of course it is! And while this isn't the heavy dose that cancer patients receive, there are some basics that are the same... nausea, stomach upset, fatigue and possible, but not probable hair loss. I will be taking folic acid to keep the hair from falling out and they say on the low doses used for this autoimmune issue, it is relatively rare. I was fairly optimistic that I wouldn't have any symptoms because I tolerated the other drugs, a pain killer and the hydroxychloroquine (yes, Trump's drug), over the last few months well. But I was not that lucky. 

I don't eat breakfast generally, so eating anything in the morning feels like a lot. I had buttered toast (gluten free because that is supposed to help with RA and I already feel sensitive to it) and tea and took the dose. About an hour later I was at a 5/6 if 0 is 'I feel great!' and 10 is 'I'm gonna die on the bathroom floor'. Now, I have battled being at 10 with my previous brain tumor issue and it is truly terrifying so being at a 5+ is completely tolerable. Not pleasant, but I can take it. Then I stood up. Holy hell, the wave hit me and I reached for the first thing I could... mint chip ice cream, because mint can help with nausea and because ice cream solves all problems. OK and because I can't drink while on these meds, y'all know I really think wine solves all problems. The day progressed like that, fine, not fine, fine, not fine until I tried some of my good ol' friend THC. I had my card through the brain thing and it was seriously the only thing that helped, luckily I still had something left around. Also, the GF diet may be harder than I thought on treatment days as the only thing like a saltine cracker IS a saltine cracker. 

So day 2, low dose, I should be fine! What can I say, I'm stubborn. I awoke groggy, started to do my usual email checks and decided I felt pretty good! I jumped in the shower, started some laundry (we barely leave the house, where does all this dirty laundry come from?!?) and started picking up around the house. Then BAM! I am suddenly woozy and dog tired, I could hardly get to my bed. Well, except I am a mom so that means I also checked in on my daughter and got myself some yogurt and fruit, but then I laid down. Over the course of the day, my appetite was dulled and I could actually fall accidentally while someone was talking to me. I know everyone is smirking thinking 'woman it was too much TCH!' but I promise I hadn't had any since the afternoon prior. This was deep exhaustion on an inner cellular level. It felt like every tiny cell in my body was expunging something, even my earwax wanted to leave, frankly it is beyond description other than... WEIRD. By evening I ate a small dinner and passed out on the sofa. Good times for my husband who is not drinking either in order to be my support team; only now he has to be stone cold sober and alone watching a movie I picked out. Not sure he is built for round 500 of watching "Pretty Woman" without a drink and pinned under my legs.

Day 3 has been interesting. I am not nauseous at all (woohoo!) and I am tired, but not ridiculously so like yesterday, but a new fun side effect is this strange fuzzy mental fog. I find it hard to concentrate and I am a little dizzy. I almost feel like I took a micro dose of mushrooms (not that I know what that would be like mom and dad!). I have worked hard to focus on work projects all day and feel the strain is catching up with me. I get as far as I can on my To Do List and then have to leave it again for another day. 

All in all I know that this is going to be OK, I'm going to be able to handle it and I will kick this autoimmune disease in the ass. I also feel dangerously close to crying every moment of every day. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be broken all the time. I paid my dues and don't deserve this. I want out. I want out, that is a dangerous one that I have to tackle throughout the day. Like giving birth, the only way through it is through it. When I first have the thought, before my rational mind kicks in and combats the negative thinking, I start to feel claustrophobic. Its like being in a dark tunnel deep underground, wedged in by too many people and much too far left to go forward. My incredible frustration that I'm sick, that something is wrong with me again, teeters on the verge of pushing my mind past the brink, and then I take a deep breath and surrender. There is no way out other than relaxing into it... and maybe crying when no one is looking. 

Going without wine is also sad, so I need everyone to stop what they are doing and pour a glass, because...say it with me... before anything else "Wine First!"

Are You Kidding Me?!?!!

I woke up today at 11:00am, deeply hungover from the past couple of days. Not a hangover from alcohol like all you smart-asses assume when hearing one of my stories, but emotionally. Travel, even in the best of times is still exhausting, everyday challenges in a new place fatigues you and when you face bigger problems it is as if your whole body tightens and restricts and stress levels surge. As I took a deep breath this morning and looked out the high-rise hotel windows into a misty Monterrey, Mexico, I started to relax. 

The entire mess started with an issue over the reservation. We were headed to Real de Catorce, a magical old mining town that seems to whisper of lore and ghosts from worlds away. I booked the reservations after a long search and difficult negotiating for a final total of 3 nights. I will spare you the tedious details of the back and forth, the repeatedly canceled reservations and instead pickup at the part where we are now whittled down to one night in this incredibly difficult to reach, out of the way place. As if the Gods didn't want us to go, we moved into a maps free zone where Siri tried to direct us anywhere but Real. My ever clever husband managed to find the way without modern technology and we patted ourselves on the back. Driving into the town is an adventure from the get go with a long road made of stone that feels like bad washboard, followed by a tunnel through the mountain being the only way in or out. Dumped out at the base of the next mountain, we had to meander stone streets worn slick from many years, with inclines difficult to walk and even more difficult to drive in our poor little VW Jetta. Those of you following this travel saga, will anticipate the fear I have for steep streets and our little car, which still has the tainted smell of burnt clutch. It will be no surprise that Siri couldn't assist while IN the town if she couldn't help get there, but we tried anyway hoping she'd help us find our hotel. No, instead in a town the size of a dime, we managed to get lost. By the time we found the hotel, if you can call it that, I was tasting annoyance in my mouth. Reception was located in a dark, dirty corner of what might have been a restaurant once, but it was at the door to our 2 room suite that things started to go downhill.

Ever feel like a place is out to get you? Like the movie Barten Fink, trapped in a devolving nightmare, we found our trip to Real de Catorce to be the kind of horror that you feel is reserved for some special deeply flawed characters, so surely it was a case of mistaken identity, right? 

The door swung open, hardly latched to begin with before using the key, to stumble into a dark room. Before we could ask about lights, safety or anything else, the master of keys had disappeared. The dark dust of the reservation corner was literally the one and only time we saw him and I wonder if he even exists. We followed the light of the adjoining room up dangerously uneven steps and into the 2nd unremarkable, dilapidated, practically empty room. As the outside peeked at us through massive cracks and shoddy building, I quickly reached for the next door I saw, begging for something better on the other side. We all seemed to have the same thought because we collided as we fought to get out, possibly threatening to knock the door down as it clung to its last life as part of the structure. This private balcony we'd just discovered teetered over a vast crevasse into the valley below. We left our bags flung aside and tried to find a non-broken chair on this balcony to sit in and chug wine, a way of self-medicating ourselves out of the current reality. 

As always, a great glass of wine transcends even shit hotel rooms and car damage so we reassessed our room, ignored that there were zero lights in the dark, dungeon 1st room, assisted our daughter after a mighty clash with those ridiculous stairs and went out to get dinner. Perhaps it was the wine-googles, but we all perked up and tried to see the town for the charm and romance we had been sold. *our daughter did not have wine-googles, in case any of you started to feel concerned. The tacky holiday decorations on the micro plaza clashed harshly with the elegance and refinement of the previous town, San Miguel's, but instead of dwelling on that, we focused on the menagerie of rock patterns that swirled in the street, then up into the walls and tumbled over into a next pattern on a new building, like a strange hallucinogenic trip making everything become one. *no one was on any drugs, in case anyone was concerned or has been to Real de Catorce where most of the T-shirts sold there are some joke about Peyote. We found a charming restaurant and took a seat near a window, a concession for being inside during covid times. We were feeling optimistic, but now thinking back, I think maybe it was the elevation and sharp winter air.

The waiter seemed devoid of thought and immediately screwed up our order. But it didn't matter, the correct parts tasted like bad cafeteria food and no, wait, I'm gonna stop you there, I always order the specialty of the area and the place, this was simply terrible food. Still hungry, we wandered back to the "hotel" through what we assumed were charming streets, if not in a foul mood. The temperature was currently that of hell freezing over and my fear of driving without Siri's help through the deserted out-lands of Mexico was all that kept me in the teeth-chattering bed. By early morning, I'd packed everyone up and sat bouncing my leg like a crackhead as I waited for my family to wake up. Our daughter opened her eyes and saw me, then asked sarcastically "sooooo...who's up for the horses?" referring to the option to ride into the hills that in a wine haze had seemed like a possibility. The three of us laughed and laughed... then threw our bags in the car and screeched out of there.

We screeched down the street trying to get away from Hotel California, then screeched down one horrifically steep, ever narrowing, stone road careening toward a lineup of precariously parked jeeps. Then we screeched down a road that stopped being a road and forced us to try to backtrack which resulted in my eyes closed, gripping the sides of the car and feeling the worst claustrophobia one can imagine while being in a car trapped in a town you want nothing more to do with. Jesse, being the clever husband yet again, was reversing and dodging obstacles and transforming into our very own 007 until the only option was to try to scale an impossible hill, our tires burning with the lack of grip and our new clutch starting to release a familiar stench. The car spun this way and that and I'm pretty sure all 3 of us had a heart attack right then and there. By the time we got to the tunnel to exit the nightmare, we were using a long list of expletives. 

We drove faster than we should have back down the washboard of stone rocks to the highway happy about our daring escape. Miraculously Siri rejoined us as we emerged from the area, evidently when she thought is was safe. 4+ hours later we entered the smog of Monterrey. The striking mountains shot up from the giant city and reminded me of the city of Medellin, Colombia, only that there is no comparison to the glory and beauty of Colombia, one of my favorite places on earth. Anyway, it gave me a twinge of hope and the modern structures were teasing at a world yet to be explored. 

The police signaled us to park off to the side of the road. It was not the first time we'd been stopped because we did not have a front license plate. FYI, get a front license plate if you are driving in Mexico!!! Usually this is simply a friendly chat as to us being from the USA and where we were going ... OK there was that weird stop early on where they asked Jess to get out of the car and searched the trunk and then had him get on the ground at the back of the car... that did give me a panic attack, but ended up fine. Anyway, in light of previous experiences, this stop I assumed would be fine, after all we had cleared the bad luck of Real, hadn't we???

NO, the answer is no. As Jesse, fluent in Spanish debated politely with the police about how it is legal to have only rear license plates and that the non-factory tint on the windows should not result in fines, it became increasingly clear that the two police at our window were very serious about not letting us go. A hand resting on the large sidearms in their belts and sneaking looks at my daughter and I secured the intimidation. This was not going to end well unless we played along. Jesse stalled on the idea that we needed to 'go to pay the $800+USD fine' and suggested that perhaps there was another way to pay, since it was the weekend and all. The cops agree, being so helpful and all, and asked how much Jesse had on him. Luckily it was only the equivalent of $75USD and the transaction, in full movie fashion of cash hidden under papers to pass back and forth concluded our stop... and for some reason we had to thank the police A LOT for this experience. We decided it was a win, while weird and seriously scary, and headed to what we hoped would be a great hotel, a reprieve, and an oasis. 

For no reason, all of downtown has been closed off. Police (now the image that causes us massive fear) are on every street keeping us from our sanctuary. A bunch of ridiculous other details of possible lost reservations (again!!!!) and an ordeal to get to the hotel, we got there. I check us in while Jesse goes to park the car and the end seems in sight. The hotel is gorgeous and luxurious and at the corner of an immense outdoor shopping area. 

The check-in took a long time, and still Jesse wasn't back. I stood at the doorway waiting for him and still no sign of him. I left our daughter in the lobby and walked to where I saw him last, hoping he'd had a hard time parking and was now circling... he was not. As I started to fear the worst, glimpse around and decide there could be thugs or more corrupt police at any corner, I worried that he'd been held up. Of course you all remember that part of the fun on this trip has been that Jess lost his phone and is now trying to navigate a new city without assistance, or he was being robbed without a way to call for help...I would say I have a vivid imagination, but really this seemed so real I started to sweat. The wonderful staff of the hotel joined me across the square, to stand on the street, equally worried that my husband was missing. Armed with walkie-talkies, they set out looking for my description of him and our car... a VW Jetta without a front license plate. Then suddenly, I saw his outline a couple blocks away moving toward me down the street, I'd know that walk anywhere. His confidant stride and strong body moves in a way that instantly makes me feel safe and seeing it in my current alarmed state sent deep shivers through every bone in my body. We climbed into big fluffy beds in a warm, safe room and let relief wash over us.

And so, I take you back to this morning where I awoke, hungover. Deeply exhausted from the last couple days. Breathing in relaxation and needing to have a giant glass of wine. 

OK 2021, Are We Gonna Be Friends or What?

It is officially 2021. The fireworks of Las Casas continue to echo through the neighborhoods and my head as I struggle to find clarity in my hangover. We have to pack-up and move from our little Eden, a sad reality to usher in the New Year with. It has been just over 2 months here in the deep south of Mexico and while my daughter and I have found our way clear of the depression that gripped our family so tightly, the prospect of heading home, even in a slow detoured fashion weighs heavy. 

As many people also chose to do, we did not make resolutions, but rather goals for this new year. Things to look forward to, things we want to include in our lives, but the reality is no one knows what this year holds. 2020 was such a shit show that I think we all have PTSD, yet I see so many posting happy thoughts about it being over, but is it? 

Cut to January 2nd, the day we left Las Casas. Our new found friend, the owner of our Airbnb came to say goodbye as we packed our newly fixed car, and optimistically set off on our road trip. This gentleman was such an asset as we encountered problem after problem after problem. 1st was the burnt out clutch on our car as Jesse narrowly escaped a steep decent and ultimate death from driving down a flight of stairs, what can we say, these roads make no sense. Next was my daughter's broken computer, something she can not live without, and acquiring a new one was tricky. Then there was Jesse leaving his new iPhone in a taxi which lead us on a wild goose chase to try to find it, lock it, and deal with Verizon who, as a side note seriously sucks and I will forever hate them after my experience here. Anyway, the poor guy had to help us way too much. So off we went! Headed into a new year and new town.

20 minutes later we were driving back into Las Casas, dragging some part of our car. The front plastic plate of the undercarriage had come loose, blown back as we drove on the freeway and threatened to rip out the underside of our car. Luckily we didn't have a serious disaster and we were able to remove the plastic piece with the use of a friendly man's tools and return to the road. 6 hours later we arrived at a town to rest for the night. Our hotel was... well as our daughter put it "like an in patient mental facility", she has an amazing way with words. We escaped the confines of the bare room and found a meal nearby. Gratefully they had wine and I kept my eyes on the glass to avoid the obviously sketchy drug deal going on in the park across the street. I won't say that we actually saw anything go down, but it was very clear by body language that a woman who was cracked out was willing to do anything to get a hit from the apparent drug dealer. 

After a night squished in a twin sized, rock hard bed, I was determined to make it a fresh new day. I took a nice long, hot shower, the first in 4 weeks. Wait, wait, its not that I hadn't showered in 4 weeks, but that the shower at our place was light on pressure and the hot water ran out very quickly... which did mean I didn't actually shower that often hahahaha. So I'm having a wonderful time and finish to step out into a lake... that slid out under the door and into the other room. I quickly used the floor towel to try to shift the flow and saw that in the glow of the bathroom light, the bedroom was quickly becoming a lake of its own. The off angle walls and sloped floor eschewing the growing problem toward my suitcase on the floor and simultaneously toward Jess' on the opposite side of the room. Needless to say, I ended up repeatedly wringing out towels until it seemed I had hand moped the disgusting little hotel room by hand. So much for that nice clean feeling after a shower. 

OK so the first few days of 2021 were sucking. But I was dead set on having a good attitude. We hit the road, day two driving, and returned to the city of Puebla. We had spent a couple nights there on our way down to southern Mexico at the end of October and found it delightful. Upon our return we found the covid factor up considerably and the quaint town deserted. I have to say this is a really good thing in our minds as I am immune compromised and I feel safer when I see hard restrictions in place. Our hotel was beautiful with head to toe sanitation including all our bags. Entire streets were blocked off, and restaurants had removed outdoor seating to allow only takeout. We were able to find a little place nearby so I had another excellent mole fix, and we holed up in our luxurious room. Another side note, I've decided Puebla offers my personal favorite style of mole, a valuable note of interest is that each city has their own twist of the incredible dish and the nuances make a world of difference. We left Puebla a tad melancholy, the city is really incredible, even a place we all agreed we could live in. We definitely didn't dedicate enough time to it, yet we are pretty sure we won't find ourselves there again. In fact, I don't know that we will find ourselves in much of the areas we visited. Its been a wonderful journey far far far away from the USA red zones, but maybe too far far far away for another vacation.

Day 3 we headed to San Miguel de Allende, a town I had been to with my in-laws many years ago and felt the need to return to, again since we are unsure we will find ourselves in this area, its a must to hit now. San Miguel is a town that simmers in gold it seems, dripping with jewels of shops, cascading flowers and decadent culinary delights. It only took another 6 hours on the road, watching a full blown road-rage fight play out with machine gun strapped police involved and our car sandwiched  in the middle, a massive detour and some tummy issues, but once we arrived, it did not disappoint.

to be continued...but as you know, I need Wine First.