San Miguel Revisited, 10, 15 and 20 years ago
Compiled by Atención staff, April 27, 2007

What was in the news, and what made news years ago? Atención staff bring to light some of the lead stories from the past and some stories on a lighter notes in this article on what was happening in San Miguel 10, 15 and 20 years ago



April 24, 1987

Twenty years ago on Atención San Miguel was 28 pages and sold for 200 pesos. Its lead story shed light on a new robbery scheme involving men dressed as if they were from the phone company before stealing everything you had. Inside stories included:

The beginnings of the bus terminal: In reply to an inquiry the mayor, Dr. Ernesto Villagomez Salazar, explained that the Herradura de Plata and Flecha Amarilla will finally begin the construction of the bus terminal on June 10. It will be located on the Calzada de la Estación on land donated by the city. The cost is estimated at 5,000,000 pesos.

Atención years ahead of Michael Moore: Moore, in his film Bowling for Columbine, brought viewers with him to a bank, where he received a gun in exchange for opening an account. In 1987, we reported: “For a bank to give away handguns seems slightly shortsighted. However, a Southern Illinois bank, using that gimmick, has gained more than US$2 million in deposits upon which it pays no interest.” 

The customer didn’t just get a gun though. They got a selection to choose from, “Depending on the amount and length of deposit, customers can choose a three-gun Smith & Wesson set that retails for about $1,300 containing a .44 magnum, a .357 magnum and a .22 caliber; a two-gun set, retailing at about $1,245, containing a .45 ACP and a 9mm, both semi-auomatic; or a choice of either the .45 or the 9mm.

Still caring for the children: April 30, 1987 was Día del Niño, and they celebrated in style at, “Pancho and Lefty’s for the children of San Miguel’s two orphanages; Don Bosco for girls and Mexiquito for the boys.”

Real Estate to die for: 3 blocks from Jardín US$99,000, 2 bedrooms/4 baths/guest house/garage/totally furnished/gorgeous view/garden/fireplaces & gas heaters.

April 24, 1992 

Fifteen years ago Atención San Miguel was a total of 40 pages and sold for 1500 pesos. The front page had lovely photos from the Easter celebrations, religious artwork and a story about a $500 peso cup of cognac available at El Campanario. Articles that peaked our interest included:

No need to worry: Bridge still remains incredibly popular here in San Miguel despite Cecil Smith’s fears in 1992: “As said as it may seem to Luisa Velte, North Johnson, Bob Wodin and others, we bridge players seem to be a dying breed. In fact, the way things are going, when we go, bridge may well go with us. …At least, this is the warning expressed in a survey on bridge reported by Beverly Beyette in the Los Angeles Times.”

Atención was the predecessor to JuARde: Anyone looking for Bill and Pat Tirkot will find them at Beneficencia 12. Telephone: 2-15-40. 

Only in San Miguel: If you happened down Calle Jesús the other day and saw a group of ladies lined up out in the sunshine in the middle of the street in various stages of hair rollers, towels, and other beauty salon paraphernalia, it was because of a power failure in the Evangee salon. Several passers-by threatened to rush home for their cameras. In fact, one car of confused DF’ers did lean out of the window to snap a photo of the strange gringas of San Miguel. Liz McClanahan, one of those drying al sol, reports that buddy Olivia Cole stopped by and, perched on a car fender, helped her to pass the time away. It might be noted that in the interim they managed to discuss and solve all of the problems of the universe.

You’re 15 years too late: What an incredible investment opportunity this would’ve been: The Casa de Janos is for sale. Large attractive building with impressive view. Perfect condition according to expert inspectors. Construction of 420 m2 on 1020 m2 lot. Twelve bedrooms, eight bathrooms, two large gathering rooms and two dining rooms, large garden, terraces (ready for restaurant, if you wish). Price US$175,000.



April 28, 1997

Ten years ago on Atención San Miguel was up to 44 pages and cost 5 pesos. The front page introduced stories on successful Martial Artists from San Miguel and the emigration crisis for local citizens. Articles included:

SMA development had hope: A big book, 2.5 inches thick, containing within its hard covers thousands of patiently accumulated files of information about the San Miguel municipality, was presented last week to the city council.

Officially, it is El Plan Municipal de Desarrollo—The Municipal Development Plan. From it will be drawn data that can guide city council and employees, and directors of the various municipal departments, in handling San Miguel’s development and future. It is a kind of bible and diagnosis of San Miguel as it is today….and even proposed solutions for those problems.

Celebrating life before death: “Here’s an invitation we found hard to refuse: A Last Hurrah! An Advance Wake. Una Fiesta Primavera. ‘It’s our sweet indulgence to invite you to commemorate Cecil Smith’s 80th birthday. Informality, good fellowship, music and wine, mariachis and barbecue are the order of the day.’” I think all people should have at least one commemoration like this…a living wake….before they die. What a great idea!

And yet, we all do die: Emilio Azcárraga, head of Televisa, the important and most powerful television production and broadcast facility in Mexico for the last 40 years, has died. his son will take over the company.

In 1997 Bill Tirkot Realty was selling a house in Centro for $72,000—2 bed, 2 bath, Furn., garage, roof terrace, view. Where have all the good deals gone?










You know you have been in San Miguel too long when…
By Jim Blakley, April 27, 2007

After an overwhelmingly positive response to my previous article titled “You Know You Are in San Miguel When…” (Atención, April 6), I have penned a follow-up (that is, if you define an overwhelming response as your three kids saying “way to go Dad.”).

I love Mexico and San Miguel so much. But still, there are a few little odd things that strike me as funny or interesting. So, here are a few thoughts about “you know you have been to in San Miguel too long when ….”

The “Happy Hour” (Hora de Feliz, dos por uno) at one San Miguel bar from 1pm to 10pm seems perfectly normal. You wonder why Harry’s only has a pitifully brief three hours of “two for one” booze from 5pm to 8pm. You have started using the plural Horas de Feliz, because the term Happy Hour (singular) seems unnecessarily restrictive.

The thought of being away from Oaxaca cheese, fresh corn tortillas and other Mexican delicacies causes you to hesitate planning a trip up north to see friends and family. You think, “Well, they can (37 friends and relatives) come and visit me.” Or, you go online and see if US Customs will allow you to bring in 25 pounds of Oaxaca cheese. “No officer, it is not fresh food, it breaks apart like thread and then I use it for weaving. Let me demonstrate.”

Eggs and chicken sitting around for hours at room temperature in a chicken shop seem perfectly normal.

There are a thousand packages of many types of pasta at the supermarket, but only one type is whole wheat and it is labeled as “diet,” there are only three of those packages left and they cost four times more than the others.

You are no longer surprised to be frisked before getting on a first class bus in Terminal Norte in Mexico City. In fact, you seem to be enjoying it from some of the younger and cuter female security officers.

In your entire life (before now) you have never met a woman in a bar and talked to her. Now you do it frequently (having three late-middle-aged women for every man doesn’t hurt). She finds you interesting, funny, and good-looking—a shocking reversal of your previous experience over the past 56 years.

You read recently that 1.2 billion tortillas are consumed in Mexico each day. That is 11.43 tortillas per person per day. You are aware that this statistic from 2005 is even higher now that you are living in Mexico.

Passing other walkers by stepping off the sidewalk onto narrow streets with buses and cars going by precariously close seems perfectly normal.

On a narrow sidewalk you are approaching a couple walking side by side. They show no sign of moving into single file so you can pass. At the very last instant (just when you believe a full body collision is imminent and you are bracing, but you have decided that it is not fair that you always have to step into the street to let others pass—see item just above), the woman moves just slightly closer to her male companion and turns her shoulder back (the “San Miguel Tango”). You intuitively turn your shoulder back as well at the absolute last instant and the three of you pass without any contact or catastrophe. If only now while you are reading this do you realize it is true, you have definitely been in San Miguel too long.

You give a good tip to a taxi driver who gives you the local price, but no tip at all if the driver only offers the gringo price.

The black tea available here starts to taste good. (There are English-speaking physicians in town, so please don’t hesitate to contact them about this potentially life-threatening health issue.)

A four-liter can of pickled jalapeno peppers seems appropriate—anything smaller is hardly worth picking up. And buying less than a kilogram of fresh tortillas seems like a wasted trip to the tortilleria. 

You have stopped noticing that some of the Mexican male waiters seem to give the same kind of service that a 14 year-old boy would give back home (a bit awkward, somewhat uncaring, and with no warmth or friendliness as he tosses your food or silverware at you). You recognize this style because you were once a male 14 year-old busboy yourself. Back then, when someone asked for a “doggy bag,” you actually assumed it was for their dog and you gathered random pieces of leftover meat from the kitchen garbage and put them in a bag for the customer. Only in recent years have you realized the cause of a rash of deaths related to food poisoning in your home community when you were 14. The deaths suddenly stopped when you got another job as a store clerk.

The only things that scare you in San Miguel are the holes and rough spots in the sidewalks and the cobblestones on the streets. Other than that, it feels as safe as a small mid-west town in 1957. Night is only dangerous because the “gringo traps” on the sidewalk are hidden under the cloak of darkness.

You feel that the level of nighttime street lighting in San Miguel is adequate.

For the first time in your life you feel tall because suddenly most people are shorter than you are. You have started calling yourself “Gigante.”

You stop wondering how most young Mexican kids can be so incredibly well-behaved (especially when you compare them to the kids that you raised when they were the same age).

The thought of going back home to el Norte and having to wash, dry and fold your own laundry is scary.

You wonder why American football commentators don’t scream out Touch-downnnnnnnnnnnnnnn (lasting a full 30 seconds, all without taking a breath) when one team scores. The US announcers’ performance seems calm, bland and boring.

Your friends back home are shocked when you suddenly hug and kiss them when greeting and you cry out “what a miracle.” They are already worried about your sanity, but this is the last straw.

At 3pm your hands are shaking, you feel a bit dizzy, and your mouth is watering. You suddenly realize that it is time for your daily paleta bar. You had promised yourself that you wouldn’t have your first one until 4pm, but you rationalize that it must be 4pm somewhere. You realize that an agua de fresa (strawberries in water) is much healthier than the coconut in milk that seems to draw you like the “Force” in Star Wars. “Luke, I am Coconut and I am your father!!!” You get the picture.

Even though you can cook a perfectly delicious lunch for about 7 pesos, you have somehow rationalized that going to Los Burritos on Mesones and having the 20-peso Burricharo meal (rice, salad, beans, and a huge burrito with your choice of two different fillings from among ten on offer along with salsa and pickled onions and peppers) will be cheaper. You think things like “maybe I won’t be as hungry at dinner if I eat a big lunch.” You ascribe the fact that all of the staff at Los Burritos know you by your first name to them just being overly friendly. You start wondering what time Los Burritos opens in the morning.

You feel uncomfortable getting on a bus where the driver does not have at least one Virgen de Guadalupe and one large crucifix, even if they are obstructing his view of the road. Three or four other religious items in front of the driver increases your comfort level as well as a cracked windshield. It just seems right.

When you are away from San Miguel you suddenly wake up at night because you haven’t heard any firecrackers, church bells, roosters, car alarms or dogs. You grumble to yourself, “How can anyone sleep in this damn town, it’s too quiet.”

You are no longer surprised that major development announcements are not made two years before things actually happen. In San Miguel the first time you hear about a major development is only after construction has already started.

You no longer think of Mexican long distance charges as too high.

You are shocked to see a cloudy day and apologize profusely to your visitors. “Well, it’s never like this. I’m sure tomorrow will be sunny.” Of course, by the afternoon it is already sunny.

You visit the Jardín at least three times per day.

You see a newcomer in town and mutter under your breath, “silly gringo, go back home where you belong” in response to something that they have done or said.

You realize that you haven’t seen a parade in over two weeks and you wonder what is wrong. You must have missed one.

Que Pasa from Atención is taped to your kitchen wall and you have circled several items. Lately you have started using the Spanish version.

You go to The Café on Correo (about half a block east of the corner with Recreo) every morning for a Grande Cappuccino for what appears to you to be not only the finest coffee in San Miguel, but in the world!!!! Could you possibly have lost your perspective? You think that a coffee shop named “The Café” has a good name and you wonder why Starbucks didn’t think of it first. However, you are very upset El Café is closed on Sundays. Who do they think they are? The recent closure on the Saturday before Easter was a crushing blow. You have considered retaining a lawyer to get an injunction to force them to open on Sundays.

You frantically run from the Jardín (where they have sold out of the Atención) to another vendor, fearing a week without the paper. You would sell a month’s worth of the Miami Herald (or your soul, for that matter) for this week’s Atención. When you go back north you read as much of the paper as you can online, but still feel unsatisfied. It’s like sex with your clothes on.

You have more fun circling things to do from Que Pasa on Friday and planning your week than you actually do when you go to the events.

Your daughter has visited recently and said that San Miguel is like the first month of first year university, only there are no classes and you are all 35 or 40 years older. “My dorm room is cool, how is yours? Do you want to meet in the Quad?” You don’t find this comparison at all funny.

You have stopped feeling guilty when you have a glass of wine at an art opening, even though the probability of you buying a US$6,000 painting is completely dependant on your chances of winning a major lottery (preferably one in US dollars, or maybe Canada because they don’t tax lottery winnings in Canada). You think to yourself, “Well, my presence here will increase the chances of someone else buying a painting. They may make look at me and think ‘I better buy it before that guy does,’ even though you dress in a decidedly shabby manner and you have been cutting your own hair for the past two years that you have lived in San Miguel. The average age of the items of clothing that you are wearing is greater than the age of the artist. Retro clothing is so in these days.

You are suddenly a popular person and your friends and children want to visit you in Mexico.

Eating a large chunk of pork skin fried in pork fat seems to be an appropriate and logical thing to do (yes, you have definitely been in San Miguel way too long).

You have thought about entering a George Bush Judas doll for the exploding Judas’s next year on Easter Day, even though you are a Canadian. You have already started construction and are wondering how many firecrackers you should put inside for the final blast. You have decided to just fill the entire body cavity with fire crackers, making your Judas the most memorable for next year.

You have developed the idea that each day in San Miguel provides all four seasons. The cool morning is the spring, the warm afternoon is summer, early evening is fall and later evening is winter. The delusion that a San Miguel evening (even in January) is real winter is, well, a delusion. But, you continue to believe it and tell others about your discovery.

During the Night of the Seven on the Thursday before Good Friday, you have gone to eight churches instead of seven with your visiting daughter just to make sure that it would be a good year.

Even though your friends and family think that you have absolutely no sense of humor (and have even created the term “Jim-jokes” to mean a supposed joke that is not even remotely funny, and I am not kidding here), in San Miguel you suddenly feel funny, like an ex-pat Dave Barry. Yes, it definitely must be time to go home to Canada for the summer. Take care and I’ll see you in the fall.



Jim Blakley lives half of the year in San Miguel and the other in beautiful Canada, except in Canada he is just not that funny.