All Over the Map - Laura Fraser [87]
For a week, I’ve been lulled into dreaminess in San Miguel, and this morning I have to be alert. First, I need to find a new place to stay. After house-sitting for a few days, I spent last night in a garden room in a fabulous colonial house full of sumptuous plants, parrot cages, and bohemian objets d’art, presided over by a woman of fearless style. Unfortunately, the place smells strongly of the macaque monkeys that also reside there. I woke up with a sickly sweet ammonia smell clinging to my hair and need to move.
That’s not all I have to figure out this morning: the story I came to report was supposed to be about a business two women started here, but it has gradually dawned on me that the enterprise barely exists beyond a press release, the two women aren’t speaking to each other, and no one is giving me a straight story because both of them want to be featured in a national magazine article anyway. I have to round up someone else to profile, fast, someone who made a sea change in her life at forty and started a business in San Miguel, and then make the case to my meticulously cautious editor for a switcheroo before the photographers show up tomorrow.
Wandering around the neighborhood, I run across an unmarked garage door with a small metal hot-air balloon hanging above. I’ve heard it’s the studio of a local jewelry company, so I knock. A chic young Mexican woman in jeans and layers of long necklaces opens the door. Inside the workshop, images of the Virgin of Guadalupe and other icons cover the walls, carved wooden altars perch on desks, and sparkling crystals and jewelry are strewn about the tables. I’m curious about this little world, which has a strong, spirited, feminine vibe.
The young woman introduces me to Cheryl, the owner and designer, who looks about my age, with smart-girl glasses, a warm smile, and a black rose tattoo. Right away she invites me to sit down and have some dark chocolate with her, asks what I’m doing in San Miguel, and tells me the story of how she ended up in San Miguel, leaving her executive husband and job in fashion marketing in San Francisco to go to a yoga retreat. She stayed on, first selling falafel and hummus to get by, then making funky little bags with Virgin of Guadalupe fobs, evolving to crystal-encrusted necklaces and belt buckles based on Mexican folklore and goddess iconography. Judging from the photos tacked up of celebrities wearing her designs, she has done very well.
Cheryl fingers an ornate rosary-looking necklace she designed. “I’m not a practicing Catholic, but I love mythology,” she says. “These icons are calming and feminine and ancient. I like to think they carry a little magic.”
She asks where I’m staying, and I tell her I need a place. She calls her friend Delphine, who has a room down the street, problem solved. I also need a new subject for my article and realize she’s sitting in front of me. Perfecto. Cheryl writes down names of other women who might be appropriate for the piece and tells me to call so we can hang out later on.
She gives me a kiss on the cheek as I leave. “My friends call me Finn.”
“Finn.”
DELPHINE’S HOUSE IS just a few doors away, across from the bullring. I knock, and, as with so many doors in San Miguel de Allende, hers opens onto a surprisingly large, sunny central courtyard. A thin, elegant man greets me, explains that Delphine stepped out; he is a tango teacher who is staying here, holding classes in a studio out back. I’m glad I packed my dancing shoes.
Then Roberto, who lives with Delphine, comes over and introduces himself, and we chat. Roberto is a salsa teacher who also works in real estate. I say I’m thinking about taking salsa lessons, and he tells me when classes are held. Then, for