Commentary: Memories of Friendships and San Miguel de Allende

This time last year, I was anticipating an October trip to be with former classmates from high school, some even from grammar school.

Planning ahead was required, as the gathering would be held in San Miguel de Allende, 170 miles north of Mexico City, and would coincide with celebrations of Dia de los Muertos, All Souls Day.

Our 50th high school reunion had broken attendance records for 50th alumnae reunions at Immaculate Hearth High. Friendships renewed and new ones made, various members of the class of ’57 have had many mini-reunions since then.

Having spent many years together in relatively small schools, we all know each other at least fairly well. Some of us have maintained tight bonds since high school, and some — like me — show up just sometimes.

Rose and Dolores organized the 2015 reunion. Hosted by Marlene, who lives year-round in San Miguel, we enjoyed a week of delightful catching up. Most of us stayed at the bougainvillea-arrayed Posada Carmina, a short walk to the center of town. Not much farther was Marlene’s artwork-filled home, where we gathered and feasted — when not enjoying one of the excellent local restaurants.

It was actually a treat to walk around the town, and when tired, a taxi was always at hand.

I’ve never felt safer on a vacation than amid the celebrants in this sweet, colorful artists’ village in Mexico.

The whole town dressed up for the holiday festivities and not just the people. Countless pastel flags — strung from the exquisite Gothic church of San Miguel Archangel to the beautiful French-style town square, El Jardín — flapped above the heads of the revelers. Around the square, villagers laid out spectacular “altars, “outlined in huge marigolds and filled with sugar figurines and likenesses of their departed loved ones.

From Halloween through All Saints and All Souls days, informal parades marched up side streets to the center of town. Virtually all the participants, from babes in arms to adults, were made up and dressed elaborately, many as either Catrina — the Lady of the Dead — or her male counterpart. It might sound gory, considering Catrina is a skeleton sporting a flamboyant hat, but the stylishly-dressed skeletons and other fanciful paraders were spectacular.

Some of the participants danced in puppet-costumes so tall we thought they were on stilts, but their faces sometimes peaked out of a window of fabric in the middle of their costumes.

Bands gathered in the colonnades of stores and cafes around El Jardín, playing lively music. A donkey or two, festooned in flower garlands, followed their masters. My eyes couldn’t get enough, as evidenced by the numerous photos I took.

Among our touring stops were the library, the Aurora Gallery, some churches, and many shops. A trolley ride around the sights also afforded magnificent views of the town.

And when indecision prevailed, everyone contributing their two cents, Betty reminded me of that old Polish saying: “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

At Patsy’s Cooking Class, we made our lunch of pork tamales and chicken with mole sauce, and we drank hot chocolate with water and cinnamon that we stirred with a hand-carved and decorated “molinillo” — a utensil so unusual that I had to buy some to take home for friends.

The Mercado de Artesanias held an answer for every souvenir desire. I bought a half-dozen molinillos and some attractive and inexpensive pewter trivets — a whimsical cow, pig and donkey—what son Mark called a “menagerie à trois.”

A treasure I couldn’t resist followed me home, a giraffe about 5 feet tall, constructed of brass, pewter and copper pieces of various sizes, depicting all sorts of motifs — angels, a catcher’s mitt with baseball, a slice of watermelon, an elephant, leaves, a lizard, a star, a heart. Each time I look at wonderful “Miguel,” I see new figures in his puzzle-like design.

I fully appreciated the combined efforts to help purchase and ship Miguel — Betty’s encouragement, Dolores’ and Rosalie’s translations, and Pat and Phyllis and Mila’s conversions from pesos to dollars and exchanges of dollars for pesos.

On our last day, Judy was faced with a lost passport, and again the women joined forces to make something happen. She would have gone to Mexico City — Ginny arranged for a driver — but Marlene thought to check on the San Miguel community website, and sure enough, someone had found the passport! We went with Judy to express our thanks to the little girl who found it and her mother, the lady who sold roses, who thought to post news of it on the website.

On our last night, all of us met at the rooftop bar of the historic Rosewood Hotel to toast our farewells. As the streetlights twinkled on, we were entertained by flashes of lightning in the distance, which had also greeted us upon our arrival at Leon Airport.

In addition to souvenirs, delightful memories and photos of the lovely town of San Miguel de Allende, I brought home the peaceful feeling of having been with friends. Most of us hadn’t even hung out together in school, yet we all got along as though we had been close forever.

I’ll always think of this reunion as the best one ever, except, of course, for the next one.

A resident of Corona del Mar, LIZ SWIERTZ NEWMAN is the author of “A Widow’s Business.”