It's not really raining coffee (nor is this really the country), but it's certainly raining. It's positively a deluge, I must say. It's been raining nearly all afternoon, with the exception of perhaps an hour or so this evening, and not just sprinkling, either. At 2 this afternoon it was sweltering--I put some laundry out to dry on the clothesline on the roof of the school, thinking, at the rate we were going, it would be dry in twenty minutes. Well, within that amount of time, drops had begun to fall quietly and innocuously, though they quickly turned a bit more serious. Can't complain, and I'm certainly not--I'm from NM; I'll take rain anytime. "It'll take all the wrinkles out of you're clothes," said Mother, who arrived for a short visit on Sunday.
After my classes this morning (we made arroz con leche [rice pudding] in my cooking class--que rico!) we went to a Cafe/Gallery space down the street called Corazon Parlante for coffee. People were bustling about, bringing in large white-washed boards, bubble-wrapped paintings, taking down the current show. They were preparing for an art opening tonight.
When we had finished our coffee, we headed down the street to catch a bus to the center of town. We had plans to go to the Ex-Hacienda San Gabriel de Barrero, and old elegant Hacienda that had been made into a museum. Walking past the elementary school, a large white something splattered suddenly directly in front of me, and then another an inch to my right. I looked up, surprised--foul pigeons. "Little wankers!" I shouted into the trees above me.
By the time our bus got downtown, it was raining buckets. We ducked into a Papeleria to buy a five-dollar umbrella. "The finest umbrellas since 1902," Said the label. Then, in smaller letters, "Made in China." Of course. Regardless, it served. We hopped on another bus labeled "Marfil," the part of town where the Hacienda was located. My guidebook had recommended telling the driver to drop you off at the Hotel Hacienda Guanajuato, otherwise the bus might not stop. Upon boarding the bus, however, I was rendered rather stupid. "We're going to the Ex-Hacienda," I told the driver. "Cual?" he asked. The Ex-hacienda de... Who?" I turned to my mother imploringly. "Ah..." she said. "We need to be dropped of at the... Where?" I asked her again. She shook her head. "Pasenle, Pasenle," said the driver. Sit down. He'd figure it out, we hoped.
The bus wound its way out of the downtown area, onto winding city roads I'd never seen. We scrutinized our map, trying to figure out where we were. We came round a big curve that looked as though it would be right before the museum. We peered out the rain-streaked windows. "Is this it?" I said. "This is it, this is it." Before we had time to say anything, though, much less stand up, the bus had sped past. "I guess not," I said. "Next one, I guess." But the road was curving and lacked sidewalks, and the next stop wasn't for a while. It was alright, we figured. The bus would proabably go in a big loop, and we'd end up where we had started. "Well," said my mother, "we're really getting the nickel tour."
Next we knew, we were actually at the bus station, were all the other passengers were getting off. "We'd better just fake it," said Mother. We stood up, too, and, once at the front of the bus, asked the driver how best to get to where we were going. He hesitated a bit, and then told us that we could stay on the bus. It would go back the way it had come. So we did. It was rather fortunate, I think, all the time we spent on the bus, because by the time we got to the Hacienda, the rain had let up a bit and we were able to walk around the lovely gardens, a half-dozen at least, each one representative of a different part of the world. There was an Asian garden, a Spanish garden, a Mexican one, of course. It started to rain again, so we went to see the Hacienda part of the museum. It was gorgeous, really, an old, old estate with three-foot-thick walls, filled with period furnishings. The owner of the original Hacienda had apparently made his considerable fortune from one of the biggest silver mines in the area.
We made our way back to the school, stopping in the Centro for a snack of yogurt, fruit and granola. It was raining again in earnest. We made dinner in our room, as we blessedly have a small kitchen--rice and eggs, simple but satisfying. We but together quite a succulent salad with jicama and an orange that we had picked from a tree a the Hacienda (I'm qute sure that was not really allowed, but... It was a fruit tree, a laden one, furthermore...) This evening we actually went to the art opening down the street, which was fun. I liked the artwork quite a bit, and the opening had drawn a good crowd, considering that it was a Tuesday nights.
Some distanst church bell has just struck eleven, and the rain seems finally to have passed. It smells lovely like damp earth, and hopefully tomorrow will be fresh and cool--but not too cool to dry my laundry.
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