Ice cream vendors in San Miguel de Allende. Ice cream comes in many flavors, to name but a few:
Creamed Corn, Mole, Mamay, Chipotle, Chicken, Liver, Tuna (cactus fruit, not the fish), tequila,
avocado, red chile, and Beso de Ángel (the kiss of an Angel)
Creamed Corn, Mole, Mamay, Chipotle, Chicken, Liver, Tuna (cactus fruit, not the fish), tequila,
avocado, red chile, and Beso de Ángel (the kiss of an Angel)
Mexico Without Fear - The Book
There were many reasons I was reluctant to visit Mexico - drug cartel violence, my rusty Spanish, corrupt officials, and an incident, forty years ago, with a Mexican policeman, that soured my perception. By 2010, I was a middle-aged woman with some training in self-defense and a desire to travel. I listened to a friend who had spent 10 years traveling in Mexico. She convinced me to take a chance on adventure, and once the decision was made, everything fell into place as if it were destined to happen.
In San Miguel de Allende, the very heart of the country, I met a man with whom I had an unrequited love affair. I reacquainted myself with Mexican culture and learned the lessons that every traveler must master - how to avoid injury while exploring a city on foot, where to get cash, and what street foods might kill you.
I returned seven months later, in September, to a tiny village in Michoacán. Ostensibly, I went to relieve a man of his boring house sitting job, but John so enjoyed showing me the area, he never did go on his vacation. Thanks to his fluent Spanish and friendly neighbors, I experienced a side of Mexico that few tourists ever see. Later in the month, John and I traveled to San Miguel to attend the Bicentenario, the 200th anniversary celebrations of Mexico’s Independence from Spain. We endured crushing crowds, unexpected fireworks, and constant noise as the 2-day party overwhelmed the city. At a bullfight, we witnessed a novel test of manhood and an nearly fatal act of drunken stupidity.
In April 2011, I went alone to San Cristóbal de las Casas where I rented a cheap duplex high on the side of a mountain. Since I was forced to speak Spanish most of the time, my frequent misunderstandings led to amusing situations. I met a French expat named Brigitte who schooled me on subjects such as art, indigenous Mayan culture, and prostitution.
John invited me to share a house with him in San Cristóbal for the first 6 months of 2012. Since I had already spent a month there, I didn’t have to learn which buses to take or where the markets were. I settled in and started Spanish lessons in earnest. In the middle of February I joined some American friends on a cross-Mexico trip through Chihuahua, Sinaloa, and Baja California Sur. We spent three days in the Copper Canyon and almost slid off a 400 foot cliff. In El Fuerte, I discovered an interesting secret that gives the town its tourism edge. We spent three days on the west coast where we saw whales mating and petted their calves. My friends flew home from La Paz and I traveled alone across the breadth of the country, back to Chiapas.
When I returned to San Cristobal I discovered that John had left on a trip to the US, but never arrived at his destination. Only one person knew his whereabouts and he wasn’t talking. John turned up in the US eventually, but the true story behind his disappearance remained a mystery.
I continued to learn Spanish and make new friends in the community. By the end of six months I could speak Spanish well enough to talk to anyone, and felt completely at home in San Cristóbal. Never once, in those different parts of the country, did anyone try to rob or harm me. I had become a seasoned traveler and ultimately an expat in a country whose language I could barely speak when I first arrived.
-Sherry Hardage
I am currently looking for a publisher for Mexico Without Fear.
In San Miguel de Allende, the very heart of the country, I met a man with whom I had an unrequited love affair. I reacquainted myself with Mexican culture and learned the lessons that every traveler must master - how to avoid injury while exploring a city on foot, where to get cash, and what street foods might kill you.
I returned seven months later, in September, to a tiny village in Michoacán. Ostensibly, I went to relieve a man of his boring house sitting job, but John so enjoyed showing me the area, he never did go on his vacation. Thanks to his fluent Spanish and friendly neighbors, I experienced a side of Mexico that few tourists ever see. Later in the month, John and I traveled to San Miguel to attend the Bicentenario, the 200th anniversary celebrations of Mexico’s Independence from Spain. We endured crushing crowds, unexpected fireworks, and constant noise as the 2-day party overwhelmed the city. At a bullfight, we witnessed a novel test of manhood and an nearly fatal act of drunken stupidity.
In April 2011, I went alone to San Cristóbal de las Casas where I rented a cheap duplex high on the side of a mountain. Since I was forced to speak Spanish most of the time, my frequent misunderstandings led to amusing situations. I met a French expat named Brigitte who schooled me on subjects such as art, indigenous Mayan culture, and prostitution.
John invited me to share a house with him in San Cristóbal for the first 6 months of 2012. Since I had already spent a month there, I didn’t have to learn which buses to take or where the markets were. I settled in and started Spanish lessons in earnest. In the middle of February I joined some American friends on a cross-Mexico trip through Chihuahua, Sinaloa, and Baja California Sur. We spent three days in the Copper Canyon and almost slid off a 400 foot cliff. In El Fuerte, I discovered an interesting secret that gives the town its tourism edge. We spent three days on the west coast where we saw whales mating and petted their calves. My friends flew home from La Paz and I traveled alone across the breadth of the country, back to Chiapas.
When I returned to San Cristobal I discovered that John had left on a trip to the US, but never arrived at his destination. Only one person knew his whereabouts and he wasn’t talking. John turned up in the US eventually, but the true story behind his disappearance remained a mystery.
I continued to learn Spanish and make new friends in the community. By the end of six months I could speak Spanish well enough to talk to anyone, and felt completely at home in San Cristóbal. Never once, in those different parts of the country, did anyone try to rob or harm me. I had become a seasoned traveler and ultimately an expat in a country whose language I could barely speak when I first arrived.
-Sherry Hardage
I am currently looking for a publisher for Mexico Without Fear.