Mexico 2026 - San Miguel de Allende - Toronto Expats

 There was no food on the bus so we had to skip lunch. Like a hungry child I was getting grouchy. We decided to eat at the first place we came to, a tiny, 2 level, outdoor Italian restaurant. 

As we were finishing our meal a group of 3 sat at the next table. We discover they are a married couple and their friend. They have a home in San Miguel de Allende where they spend 4 months a year. The rest of the time is spent at their home and houseboat in Toronto. They invite us to sit with them. My Travel Buddy converses with the wife, I discuss politics with the husband, a yoga instructor, 2 years my senior. 

The next night they invite us to see their house before taking us to a small, family run restaurant near by them. It is the type of place where one can experience truly authentic local food. 

Walking back to the guesthouse in the dark disaster strikes. I stumble, on what we later discovered was a slightly sunken manhole cover, and go down onto the cobblestone street, hard. My teeth and glasses are miraculously undamaged but I have rescraped the already scraped knee, adding a second scrape off to the side for good measure. I have a bruised palm and nose bridge and and a cut at the bottom of one of my nostrils bleeds profusely. Fortunately we are just a few yards from the guesthouse. Two local women, witnessing the fall, descend on me with tissues. 

My Travel Buddy gets me to our room, disinfects and bandages my knee and creates an ice pack for my nose with a ziplock bag and ice from the shared kitchen area on the first floor. He continued to nursemaid my knee each morning thereafter, changing the awkwardly placed bandages and taking photos with my phone so I can see the healing process. Sounds weird? Try looking at your own knee sometime, go ahead, try. 

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