Café Grano

A rather nice place to pass one's time is Café Grano (I think that's what it's called), an organic coffee house near the plaza in Ajijic. Organic coffee from the bean - such a delight in a world in which most people drink instant nescafe. It's distressing to see so much nescafe in a country where coffee grows. It's like eating Taco Bell in Mexico, or Boboli in Italy, or drinking Two Buck Chuck in Napa: a damn shame.

So I grabbed a few books and parked myself today at a street-side table, where I could watch all the mass-goers come and go at the stone church across the street. I enjoyed the morning a great deal, but as a mission to meet locals, I failed. Not usually a friendly-with-strangers type, I put on a pleasant face and looked up regularly to make eye contact. I even commented on someone's puppy, which is not the kind of thing I do. To no successful end. I met one chap who wanted to plug his band, and another fellow hit on me (I must not look that pregnaz yet), but no friends were made, nor even friendly banter exchanged.

Maybe I need more inviting occupation - the sort strangers feel inclined to comment on, such as sketching or tatting. Or I could borrow an adorable puppy. The only catch is that I'm not really so sure I'd want to make friends with people who'd walk up to a total stranger and ask what they're drawing. It seems kind of rude.

So what's the secret? Do I have to join the quilting club or volunteer at the orphanage (I am considering doing both, actually) just to meet some people? Is this what it's like trying to find a date? I smiled at the baristas so many times I felt like the sleezy guy at the bar that won't stop making oggly faces.

At least the coffee was really good. I'll probably be back tomorrow.

San Juan Cosalá

Located in the Mexican state of Jalisco, San Juan Cosalá is surrounded by greater things. Steep mountains keep the town from stretching northward, while vast Lake Chapala laps at the town's toes, and Jocotepec and Ajijic, more noteworthy towns, encroach from west and east. This is my new home: a town with a view of better things.

I moved here in September. I don't consider myself an expatriate. Rather, I think of myself as temporarily stuck here until I can figure my way out. In the meantime, I try to find a way to live here, both practically (where can I buy spinach?) and emotionally (if I spend one more night watching telanovelas with my mother-in-law I'll have lost my soul).

So this is my blog. I'm not a blogger. But hopefully this will serve as some manner of outlet for creative soul-searching that will help me to also stay in touch with the people far away I miss. Or I'll just vent a lot.

That's the trouble of being stuck someplace with a view of better things: It's hard to appreciate what you've got. So, today I make the effort to praise San Juan Cosalá and my life here. Here goes.

We do not pay rent.
To buy milk, tortillas, or beer, I need only walk across the road to one of two small tiendas or the modelorama.
Avocados.
Mangoes.
Salsa.
People still ride horses.
The lake is really beautiful.
Everyone knows their neighbors (and most of the town).
No one is homeless.
The elderly live with their families.
I get to sleep as much as I need to.
I do not commute to work.
Everyone has time.

And that, my friends, has left me exhausted. I'm off to commandeer my mother-in-law's kitchen so I can make pot stickers. Salty fried delightfulness = happiness.