My Grandma Would Be Horrified
Watching how I live in San Miguel de Allende, my grandmother Gaga is turning over in her grave.
I was raised in Dallas, Texas, and from age thirteen, there were beauty standards. You didn’t leave the house without makeup, hair done, matching jewelry, a proper outfit, heels, purse, perfume, nails done. Looking put together was not optional. It was a moral obligation.
Community Meals Ground Me
The proverb says "He who eats alone, dies alone".
I will not die alone. Besides dining regularly with my partner Jorge, I now have communal dining every Friday night and Saturday morning. Friday nights, if I’m not hosting Shabbat dinner at my house or a friends, I go to the Chabad synagogue.Twenty to forty people around a big table, family style food, stories, debate, laughter, locals, travelers, random drop ins.Every week I see good friends, bring new ones, and leave with more. There is something sacred about Sabbath dinner that makes me exhale.
Then Saturday mornings are Mercado Sano, San Miguel’s intimate organic and artists market. This place is my happy place. Live music, fresh tortillas, organic farmers, jewelry, woven bags, little dogs under tables, people speaking Spanish, English, French, Hebrew, Italian.Shared picnic tables where if you sit down next to someone, you are expected to become temporary neighbors. I can spend hours doing nothing productive. Which now feels deeply productive.