Posts tagged San Miguel de Allende

San Miguel Writers’ Conference 2012

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Last year, I fell into it at the last minute. This year I came prepared to deliver, at San Miguel Writers’ Conference, a 90-minute workshop on “Self-Publishing Success.” My overview of  the rapidly-changing world of print on demand (POD), eBooks and online marketing was well-received by 40 gracious and eager learners.

I shared what I discovered in publishing”Leonardo’s Revenge and Other Stories” – in the week between Christmas and New Years Day, without spending a penny – my encouragement to get it done, and my suggestions of where to spend money on professional help: editing, cover design and a well-conceived marketing plan so as to stand out among the three-million-plus eBooks expected to be published in 2012. I also uploaded a number of resources to this site for those interested in self-publishing (feel free to pass along!).

By all accounts, the 7th Annual Conference was the best yet! Bigger, better and exceptionally well organized, the four jammed-packed days in mid-February provided authors and readers a plethora of workshops, classes, panel discussions, readings and lectures. For me, the highlight was Margaret Atwood’s keynote address, “Writing and Hope,” attended by more than 800 people, both residents and visitors to San Miguel.

Margaret Atwood, photo by George Whiteside

Margaret Atwood, a Canadian National Treasure and author of more than 40 books of fiction, poetry, and critical essays, spoke of hope as “a human constant and a literary concept. As writers, we cannot possibly succeed unless we have hope… hope we’ll finish a book, find a publisher, and the publisher last long enough for the book to come out; and hope someone will buy it, read it, and understand and/or like it. That’s a lot of hope!”

With grace and wit, she traced her history as a woman author in light of social changes over the past five decades, starting with “Edible Women” published in 1969: “In those days, I was often asked, ‘Do you hate men?’ to which I’d responded, ‘Which ones?’ When vacuous reporters asked, ‘Is your hair really like that or do you get it done?’ I’d say, ‘If I were going to get it done, would I do this?'” (Sharing a similar relationship to my unruly hair, I had to laugh!)

In a beautifully balanced discourse of light and darkness, Ms. Atwood raised the question of hope regarding human rights and environmental issues – major issues of our time and her passions – noting we rightly fear for the economy, the planet, our children, and the civil rights we once took for granted. She concluded, “We are readers and writers embedded in time.”

In regard to her dystopian books, that she refers to as “speculative fiction,” “”Handmaiden’s Tale”, “Oryx and Crake” and “Year of the Flood”, Atwood addressed possible, scary futures such as “theocracy, and contraception in all its forms” – who can have children, who are denied them, who must have them, who gets to steal the children of others, who creates canon fodder – adding, “I did not intend [my books] to function as a blueprint for Republicans.”

In Atwood’s insightful world, “Writing is the coding of human voice into symbols. Reading is the decoding of symbols (like music). Readers are playing your symbols; it’s not passive.  Human voice and language – it is us and we are it.” But, there is always the dark side: “Those in power control language. They think, ‘if it can’t be said, then it can’t be thought, and it can be made to disappear.'” She asked us to consider examples, such as recent laws of unbridled snooping, and labeling environmentalists “terrorists” when, in fact, “it’s all about the oil!” As soon as those emphatic words were out of her mouth, a boom of thunder shook the conference hall. Without missing a beat, Ms. Atwood calmly proclaimed, “I love punctuation!”

Among many global concerns and challenges, she spoke of the disappearance and murder of journalists “brave enough to write about drug violence. Mexico deserves better! Writers must be free to use their human voices without being martyred.” She ended her beautifully-crafted speech with a final insight into hope: “Hope imagines things can be better than they are.”

The next day, passing Ms. Atwood on the grounds of the Hotel Real de Minas, where the conference was held, I thanked her, saying, “That was the best keynote speech I’ve ever heard.” To which she replied, eyes twinkling, “If that’s the case, we’re in trouble!” We both laughed and moved on. I felt hope… hope that I might realize my aspiration to be such an elegant, lively, passionate and brilliant writer and speaker as Margaret Atwood.

With another successful event behind them, Director Susan Page and the executive committee are already planning for 2013. I have submitted my proposal to again present on self-publishing and marketing, and hope to be invited back to this extraordinarily fun and inspiring conference.

A highlight of the San Miguel Writers’ Conference is the Friday night Fiesta, held at the exquisite Instituto Allende. Here I am with some strange characters.
Giant puppets, Mojigangas, join us for a photo op. Left to right: Aysha Griffin, Linda Post, Susan J. Cobb and Conference Director Susan Page.

 

Saturday in San Miguel de Allende

3 Comments Travel

It’s been a while since I posted – life sometimes takes precedence over blogging. In the meantime, I published a book of my short stories, “Leonardo’s Revenge and Other Short Stories” (more on that soon), and I’ve been preparing to present again, on Self-Publishing, at the San Miguel Writers’ Conference, which starts later this week (more on that too!)

I returned to the perennial spring of San Miguel, from winter in New Mexico, and woke my first morning to the vibrant colors, church bells and now-familiar vistas of my “second home.”

Being Saturday, it was time to head to the Organic Market on Zacateros for a piña (pineapple) tamale and Jamaica (pronounced “ha-mike-a”, i.e., hibiscus) juice, and buy some yummy (and U.S. priced) organic goodies for the coming week.

Along the way I couldn’t help snap this photo of a local working man carting his wares.

Being early February, I met up with my friend, Patty Barakat, to peruse the annual “Candelario,” where plant growers from across Mexico set up stands in the gracious central park, Parque Juarez, and sell fruit trees, cacti, flowers, herbs, soil, pots and all things related to one’s home garden or patio/terrace enhancement.

Young boys and old men wander the park with their wheelbarrows, offering help to buyers. If you give them the nod, they will follow you amid the maze of offerings and place your purchases in their wheelbarrows, drafting their pals into service if more are needed. When you’re done shopping, they follow you home and schlep the plants, pots and soil to your patio or garden (with a trail of soil and leaves) – all for the equivalent of $20 per guy.
While much of what we gringos consume here in San Miguel is not noticeably less expensive than in the states, these pots, plants, local vegetables, cut flowers, and mid-day multi-course meals (“comidas corridas”) are definitely in the “good deal” category, and they support local workers and vendors.

But, in typical San Miguel fashion, social events tend to pile upon themselves and this Saturday was also the date of a mega event – local artist Anado McLaughlin‘s open house for inauguration of his “Chapel of Jimmy Ray“. The celebration of colorful, quirky, outrageously fun creations by Anado was attended by some 1,500 people.

It is said that “it always rains during Candelario,” and this year is no exception… except the rains keep coming. This is not the sunny, warm weather I had hoped for. But, unlike being a tourist, where a week of bad weather can ruin a vacation, I trust the sun will return during my next couple of months in San Miguel and many more wonderful outdoor adventures will be had. Please stay tuned.

Guanajuato – Revisiting the Past

13 Comments Passion & Joy, Travel
On the steps of the University of Guanajuato where I modeled for the art department for a semester in 1974.

Last week I had the extraordinary experience of being 19 years old again.

As a gringa living in San Miguel de Allende (SMA), in the state of Guanajuato in central Mexico, I am often asked: “Is this your first time here?” While my last time was earlier in 2011 (see January and February archives), my first time was actually in 1974, at the age of 19. I had spent five days in SMA, en route to explore other parts of Mexico, after living and working for some months in the nearby colonial city of Guanajuato. This past winter, while in SMA for 8 glorious weeks, I had thought to make the one-hour bus trip to revisit Guanajuato after 37 years, but I simply did not do it, and might have continued avoiding my past, had it not been for a friend, author Susan Cobb, who made a date to accompany me.

Before I recount what I discovered on this recent trip, permit me to tell you how I came to live in Guanajuato in the first place: After working all summer of 1974 in Vail, CO, I managed to save a whopping $400, which was not sufficient funds to return to University of New Mexico in Albuquerque, where I had completed a year of credit. Instead, I decided to go to Mexico where, I figured, I could have a grand adventure for cheap and practice Spanish, which I had studied throughout junior and senior high school.

In that very different, less fearful world of 1974, I gave no thought to hitchhiking  from Denver to El Paso, walking across the international footbridge into Ciudad Juarez for 2¢, and boarding a Chihuaheses (Greyhound) bus south. I didn’t have a guide book or even a map, and no idea of a destination. When I couldn’t stand being on the bus a moment longer, I got off and, as good fortune would have it, I was in Guanajuato; arguably the most beautiful and colorful city in Mexico.

It is both a historic city – famous for its wealth from nearby silver mines that created splendid examples of colonial architecture and playing a major role in The Mexican War of Independence (1810-1821) – and a cultural center – with the Teatro Juarez (see images), la Universidad, the Cervatino Festival each October (that I experienced in its 2nd year, from the rooftop of the pension in which I lived right in Plaza San Roque) and a World Heritage Site designation in 1988.

Memories, at least for me, seemed to be stored in the stories I have kept and retold, and after 37 years and many travels and adventures in the interim, I was assailed, upon reentering the historic central zone of the city, by a flood of forgotten memories.

Upon entering the grand Mercado, I recalled conversations and bargaining for wooden utensils, terracotta bowls, fruits and vegetables. In those days it was normal to bargain for everything.

Guanajuato Mercado

On the street in front, the perennial hawkers and vendors seemed like the same ones from decades before, perhaps the sons and daughters of those I had seen. I imagined the layout of the hotel I had stayed in nearby, for a week, where I encountered a giant scorpion for the first time. “Don’t worry,” said the owner in response to my screams of terror, “It’s a big one. You only need to be careful with the small ones.” Although not reassured, I was enchanted by the new and foreign world into which I had cast myself.

Susan and I wandered amid outrageously colorful buildings on winding stone streets full of college-age students, just as when I was there. In my mind’s eye I could see the actual faces of my friends and recalled Beatles songs that had been sung to me in the Jardin by eager young men with guitars, wanting to impress with their only knowledge of English.

Susan Cobb, at one of many plazas in Guanajuato, where we "not-19-anymorers" enjoyed brunch.

The students walked purposefully, having places to go and friends to meet up with. I remembered how it felt to live there, to be 19 and have friends with whom to engage in late night philosophical conversations in bars and then to trudge up steep alleyways to the only cheap quesadilla joint still open at 2 or 3 a.m. I thought about how we are all in our 50s now, having lived essentially whole lives… jobs, careers, marriages, children, dreams fulfilled, or not. And, no doubt, some had already died, or suffered major illnesses and accidents.

There was no point in wondering what had unfolded for Alfredo, a large and friendly fellow whose slight by feisty madre owned the pension, or “Dirty Panther,” my funny curly-haired boyfriend whose real name was Jesus, or Marianna, my housemate who had been a belly dancer in San Francisco, as we did not keep in touch after I left. Long-distance communications were difficult and expensive in 1974.

Door to the Pension where I once lived, overlooking San Roque Plaza where the Cervantino Festival has been taking place since 1972.

But I reflected on my life and the young woman who, with no one to be responsible to or care where I was, made friends, found enjoyable work, and was courageous and present for life’s grand adventures. I realized that I am the same person I was at 19 who still does not know what lies ahead, as we never do… despite the delusion of all our planning and goal setting.

Yes, of course I now have more knowledge and wrinkles, but it’s not what we acquire that matters; what’s important is what we leave behind. I hope that I am leaving a trail of kindness and encouragement. We are all just passing through…

Aysha in Callejon del Besos (Alley of the Kisses)

After an emotional day revisting a beautiful place I once lived, I concluded that if the wondrous and predominantly benevolent experiences of my past are any indication, there is no reason to fear the future. As a Mexican boy once sang to me in the Guanajuato Jardin, “All you need is love.”

Egg On Your Head: Cascaronazo Carnival

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In San Miguel de Allende’s jardin, Bob gets smashed with a Carnival cascaron while Lulu looks on in amusement.

On a Saturday afternoon in early February, I wandered to the Jardin, San Miguel de Allende’s central plaza, and stumbled into a Carnival celebration. Throughout the Catholic world Carnival is a big deal, with the idea of exhausting the craziness of people’s behavior so they will be ready for the solemnity of Lent. In Mexico, Carnival is most celebrated in Vera Cruz and Monterrey, but all cities and towns seem to have some version of it. Not being Catholic, I am unfamiliar with these seasons and celebrations, so it is only a limited and personal insight I can share.

There, amid more than the usual vendors of food – hot dogs, hamburgers, ice cream, fresh fruit, roasted corn-on-the-cob – and hawkers of balloons, sombreros, little cloth dolls and plastic toys, were dozens of people selling colorful clownish entities and bags of dyed Easter egg-looking eggs. But these were not your normal edible or decorative eggs… they were cascaronazos!

Cascaron is the Spanish word for shell. Cascaronazo refers to an eggshell, with the innards blown out and filled with confetti and glitter which you then smash on someone’s head, all in good fun. While Mexican children are usually subdued and well-behaved in public, this celebration gives free rein to the inner hellion, busting out and smashing eggs on the heads of parents, friends and strangers, with glee. No head was spared.

Later in the day, at the fancy shopping mall on the hill, I witness a group of high schoolers in Mardi Gras masks, dancing to Brazilian beats of its own musicians, some on stilts, spreading the fun and energy of Carnival before Ash Wednesday calls them to 40 days of Lent.

Do you have any Carnival memories or insights you’d like to share? Please post them in comments below. Thanks!

Mis Tiendas (My Stores)

1 Comment Business & Work, Travel

Americans (i.e., U.S. citizens, to distinguish between other residents of North and South America) have long bemoaned the disappearance of “Mom and Pop” shops – those locally-owned stores from a now long bygone era. Even author John Steinbeck, in “Travels With Charley,” chronicling his last tour around the United States in 1968, railed against the proliferation of corporate franchises and the loss of regionalism.

Today we accept, and many feel secure in, the sameness from town to town of familiar places: fast-food joints, chains of restaurants and bars, big-box stores, franchise services of all kinds. But here in Mexico, despite the fairly-recent infiltration of supermarkets, department stores and the likes of Office Depot and Mailboxes Etc., towns and big-city neighborhoods are still largely served by hard-working local entrepreneurs; shop owners in hole-in-the-wall stores or even on the street.

Here are a few I’ve enjoyed patronizing in San Miguel de Allende:

Miguel makes beautiful journals and notebooks he sells outside the Mercado.
This no-name restaurant, at the corner of Calzada de la Luz and Calzada de la Aurora, delights me with excellent pollo quesadillas. For 25 pesos (about $2) I get a great chicken sandwich on a toasted wheat roll, with avocados, tomatoes, onion and lettuce piled high inside. Yum.
Something you'd never see at a U.S. gas station: a mescal tasting! "Full Service" takes on meaning we've never dreamed of! Drink and drive ...what the heck!
Philpe, the proud manager of La Europea, offers a wide variety (and best prices) of wines, tequilas, liquors, beers, snacks and condiments. A large humidor displays Mexican and Cuban cigars. It is a chain of 13 Mexican stores.

Pursuing Her Dream As A Young Artist

2 Comments Business & Work, Changing The World, Passion & Joy, Travel
Mirasol Mendez, future San Miguel de Allende artist

To dash out to the store for eggs, cheese, bolillos, avocados, bananas, I need only to walk a short block to the corner tienda where Marisol and her mother, Carmen, greet me with huge smiles and easy conversation. Mirasol is a beautiful 21-year-old who is learning English by watching TV.

When we first met, Mirasol confided that she would like to work for an artist and be a painter herself. “Why would anyone hire you?” I asked. She shrugged and made herself small like a little girl, no doubt believing it’s impolite to toot one’s own horn. I rephrased the question: “How would your best friend answer that for you?” She puffed up and said with a swagger, “Because I’m very creative!”

I have been nudging Mirasol to enroll in Casa Cultura, a state-sponsored arts and crafts school she did not know existed, with the idea of creating a portfolio. “I’ll need that to go to Instituto Allende,” she declared, obviously having imagined herself attending the prestigious art school.

Carmen supports her daughter’s dreams. “I didn’t have the opportunities she has,” she admits with pride in providing Mirasol the chance for a different life than that of her own: 12 hours a day, 7 days a week, behind the counter of the family business.

Today when I entered the store, five weeks since our first conversation about her wanting to pursue art, Mirasol jumped up from behind the counter cluttered with jars of candy and bags of chips and nuts, and announced, “Surprise, Aysha! I went to the school and got the schedule!”

“Fantastic! Did you sign up for courses?”

“Yes. There is only one painting class, on Mondays, and I have signed up.”

“Wow, that’s terrific! When I return next year, I would love  if you would give me one of your first drawings or paintings.”

Mirasol smiled broadly and shook my hand firmly: “I promise, Aysha, and I will write a dedication on it too.”

It will be among my most cherished possessions.

Making Do in San Miguel de Allende

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Juan Antonio walks four hours from his home in the "campo" (countryside) with his burro to sell burlap sacks of potting soil. In a gentle voice, without any self-pity, he tells me (in Spanish), "There is no money in the campo. The economic crisis has hit everyone very hard."

One of the many wonderful and endearing aspects of life in San Miguel de Allende is the constant interaction with vendors.

They arrive at our door and ring the bell, punctuating the day with offers of tortillas, gorditas, tamales, flowers, nopales, soil; deliveries of bottled water and bottled gas. Then there’s the hombre whose knife and scissor sharpening service is heralded by a long, low whistle, the corn man whose presence is made known with an indecipherable bellowing chant, and the franchise ice cream woman whose costume matches her rolling cart.

They bring what ever goods they have made, gathered or found to sell, and courageously and unabashedly ask if you want some.

The Ice Cream Lady scurries by in the heat of the day.
Pepe and Lupe sell tortillas and roasted seeds on our street. It's impossible to know their story, as they are too shy, or scared, to tell it. But, one thing is certain: life is not easy for them, and many other children vendors on the streets of San Miguel.

The San Miguel de Allende Writers’ Conference

18 Comments Travel

I call it magic when doors swing wide open, opportunities unfold easefully and support is present at every turn for realizing my dreams. This has been the experience of my first month in San Miguel de Allende.

This colorful city has charmed many writers and artists and been much lauded in print and paint, so perhaps I am just the next lucky one to fall under its spell and be embraced and delighted. (For more about San Miguel, I suggest this recent Smithsonian article ).

Before I arrived in San Miguel de Allende, on January 21, I read online about the upcoming international writers’ conference (Feb. 18-21, 2011) and contacted director Susan Page, offering to be a volunteer in the hope I could attend this year and perhaps be a presenter next year. She thanked me but said there were no openings. Que será será. Then, a week before the conference, I met the vivacious Susan at a Women In Business meeting, and she told me a volunteer had just canceled and I was needed. Needed! I could attend! But that’s not all. At the volunteers’ orientation, days before the start of the conference, Susan announced that a faculty member had just canceled and it was too bad because she was offering the popular workshop on Self-Publishing. Without thinking, I interrupted and said, “I could do that!” “Fine,” said Susan to the group, “Aysha will do it.” And all of a sudden, my dream of presenting became a reality.

My workshop was well attended by a broad range of students, from aspiring to highly-successful published authors like Laura Davis, Jan Baross, Minerva Nieditz and Susan J. Cobb. I gained much useful information and inspiration from attending courses with writing coach Eva Hunter, crime fiction writer Jonathan Santofer, and political writer Ellen Meeropol.

A highlight for me was the keynote address by U.S. Latina writer Sandra Cisneros. Ms. Cisneros, poet, storyteller and author of several best-selling novels, took the stage to a full auditorium with a reboso wrapped around her shoulders. The theme of her talk, “Living in los Tiempos de Sustos”, (Living in the Time of Being Frightened), was gracefully woven throughout her observations about writing as the practice – “writing comes from a rant until it takes you to a place of light.”; writing as healing (after the  loss of her father) – “The book (“Carmelo”) saved me from the sadness. Because you can be extremely heartbroken and write about something heartbreaking, but if you stay with it long enough, it will bless you.”; and writing as requiring “fearlessness and lack of ego.”

She challenged us to think of writing in new ways, from what she calls her ‘pajama voice’: “If today’s hours sitting down to write were your last hours on earth, what would you write?” Write about the things you wish you could forget, she suggested. Make a list of subjects that are taboo for you and cause you discomfort. Try the “10×10 exercise” where you list 10 things in 10 different areas that make you different from everyone else, like 10 things that make you different from others in your profession, from others of your gender, etc. Acknowledge the fear of our times and write through it.

Cisneros told engaging stories from her life, read from her beautifully-crafted work and left us with the encouragement to “enter your story from your body. You are a writer and can respond to the news. We are wizards, in the time of sustos. We are light. Honor your story, your characters, and the people you love. Our writing is medicine.”

In addition to the three intensive days of the conference, there were pre-and post-events, fiestas, field trips and tremendous opportunities for conversations and connections, orchestrated by dozens of devoted volunteers and local business people. I felt honored to be a part of it all. Now I dream of returning to The San Miguel Writers’ Conference next February to present with greater preparation and in greater depth. In the meantime, I plan to be a light and honor my story, my characters, and the people I love.

Is It Safe To Visit Mexico?

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first published at the group travel blog Your Life Is A Trip

San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, Mexico

“Aren’t you afraid?” and “Isn’t it dangerous?” These were the consistent questions posed by friends and family upon hearing I had booked a trip to Mexico. From my standpoint, it was a matter of avoiding winter’s cold, pursuing Spanish language studies and visiting American friends in San Miguel de Allende, a picturesque colonial city located in Mexico’s central state of Guanajuato.

Without any fear I flew from Albuquerque to Leon-Guanajuato Airport, via Houston, avoiding any border violence issues, and a 90-minute shuttle bus ride delivered me to this established and renowned cultural enclave of ex-pats and snowbirds. But the question of danger and safety in Mexico is not an easy or simple one to answer.

There is violence in Mexico, as everywhere. I recall an Australian friend who, landing in L.A. for his first trip to the U.S., called to ask if he should buy a gun – a reasonable question given the FBI estimate of over 200 million privately-owned firearms.

Americans – with our recent history of internal terrorism (Oklahoma City), external terrorism (September 11th), intentional public shootings (Tucson supermarket), serial murderers, drive-by shootings, rapes and other domestic violence; with handgun murders a daily occurrence in U.S. cities, and the largest prison population in the world – are hardly in a position to point fingers at the dangers abroad.

However, there is something different happening in Mexico. At the core are not just anger, political intolerance, insanity and psychopathic behavior, but money and turf war power, with illegal drugs as the medium.

Thirty years ago, when I lived and traveled in Mexico for six months, handguns were illegal and even the police were gunless. At that time, Mexico was an extremely safe place in regard to violent crime. Corruption, usually in the form of bribes to officials, was a known, accepted and non-violent interaction. That was two generations ago and the world has changed in countless ways.

Like violence, drugs have always been a part of the human story. But it is economic policy that is driving the chaos and fear created by the narcotrafficantes, who are controlled by powerful drug lord families, or “organizations”. It is akin to the days of Prohibition and the likes of Al Capone. While most of the violence is between warring gangs, innocent people can get caught in the crossfire and, recently, it is believed that the first U.S. officials and their families have been targeted and murdered. But even this is not a complete picture of the spreading lawlessness that is gripping parts of Mexico.

An estimated 30,000 people have been killed in this drug-related violence since 2006; 6,000 in Ciudad Juarez alone. According to author and journalist Charles Bowden, “There is no serious War on Drugs. Rather, there is violence, nourished by the money to be made from drugs. And there are U.S. industries whose primary lifeblood comes from fighting a war on drugs.”

Fear begets fear and, with high employment and steeply rising prices of essential goods, it is understandable that many young men are drawn to the possibility of ensuring the well being of their families through enlisting in one army or another of this drug war. They have nothing else to do, nothing to lose, and there is the hope of money being made.

For the past few weeks, while comfortably residing in the friendly, culturally-rich enclave of San Miguel de Allende’s 10,000 ex-pats and snowbird visitors (in a city of about 80,000), I’ve tried to grasp the dangers and concerns, real or imagined. Here, long-time American and Canadian residents continue to feel safe from the drug war. The now regular cases of vandalism, assaults and robberies have engendered a greater degree of cautiousness and common sense measures but, overall, the smaller cities and villages in central Mexico have not seen evidence of drug war violence.

Clearly this is not the case along the border – Tijuana, Ciudad Juarez, Nuevo Laredo, Nogales, and Matamoros, in the states of Nuevo Leon, Guerrero, Sinaloa, Michoacan, and Durango. According to the U.S. State Department, “Other metropolitan areas have lower, but still serious, levels of crime. The low rates of apprehension and conviction of criminals also contribute to Mexico’s high crime rate… The Mexican government makes a considerable effort to protect U.S. citizens and other visitors traveling to major tourist destinations.”

Indeed, tourism is among Mexico’s top three economic generators, along with oil exports and Mexicans working abroad who send home billions of dollars each year to their families, although that has been diminishing with issues of legality and far fewer jobs abroad.

Mexico, the 11th largest economy in the world and about three times the size of Texas, is a vast and complex country, therefore lumping together all places is absurd. As a tourist to major destinations, you would not likely encounter any evidence of the drug wars, and such violence is primarily between the criminal elements. Like elsewhere in the world, most people are decent, law abiding and peaceful citizens who want nothing of this madness in their communities but are, for now, helpless to counteract the organized crime and violence.

For example, a young man living in San Miguel Allende told me that his parents, in Mexico’s wealthiest and second largest city of Monterrey, have increased security measures. They stopped going out at night, instead entertaining friends at home in their upper-middle class suburb. They, and many of their neighbors, have traded late-model SUVs for less conspicuous cars. Even so, there have been incidents of large trucks, commandeered by narcotrafficos, that block streets, ransack stores, sometimes take hostages for ransom, and otherwise terrorize residents.

As military efforts have resulted in nothing but escalated violence, the Mexican government is seriously considering decriminalization and legalization for marijuana. However, like many logical solutions, there are enormous economic and political factors at play and the future of such initiatives remains uncertain.

Is it safe to visit the resorts and popular tourists destinations, like Puerto Vallarta, Ixtapa, Playa del Carmen, San Miguel de Allende and Guanajuato? Probably as safe as it has ever been. The decent, kind-hearted Mexicans, who know the value of tourism, welcome you.

My advice? Avoid driving anywhere near the borders and never drive at night; stay in tourist-populated areas; do not count on police protection (I am told they can be targets themselves, or related to the bad guys); steer clear of any demonstrations or dubious situations; do not carry large sums of money and always have change in local currency for taxi rides and small purchases; be aware of your surroundings, as you should no matter where; and continue to visit and enjoy the diverse scenery, culture, food, climate and genuine hospitality of Mexico.

Aysha Griffin is a travel writer, editor and business/relationship coach. Her blog is: www.InhabitYourDreams.com.

Happy Valentine’s Day From San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

4 Comments Passion & Joy, Travel

The Mexican culture is inherently romantic, colorful and festive. Since this is my first Valentine’s Day here, I don’t know how widely it is celebrated – there are so many saint’s days and other holidays! But here are a few images of love and hearts I’ve captured to share. May love, joy and appreciation fill your heart!