Twenty eight hours from Taffs Well, two planes, three buses, a taxi and a car ride later and we arrived to a full moon shining over Larry's palace in San Miguel de Allende. We were a bit phased at Mexico City Airport when in getting on the bus to Queratero we were frisked for weapons and then videoed by a policeman with a camcorder. Nobody else seemed phased.
Today is our first day home alone. Larry's trip to Equador got cancelled and he's gone house-sitting for a friend up the road. So we're in a chain of house-sitters. Steffan is house-sitting for us, us for Larry, Larry for a friend, Larry's friend for another friend and so on. Maybe one of us gets to own a house at the end. Who knows? He said he'll be back on Wednesdays to check how we're doing. Our duties are going to be quite taxing. We have to water the plants twice a week.
It's Holy Week and the local people like to celebrate with fireworks and drums. On the first night I awoke hearing a raptor thumping it's tail as it ascended the spiral staircase. I awoke in a bed like an upside down table looking up at a brick curved ceiling like being in a bread oven tightly packed with terracota loaves.
I don't know what Larry put in that nightcap.
Today we walked into town and spent three hours looking for a gambio to change money. All the banks are closed for the holiday. We had the Mexican equivalent of about six pounds to last us four days. We never found one, but eventually found a hotel that was prepared to change our dollars.
Lesson. Next time we come to Mexico bring a debit card for the ATM.
No, we still haven't worked out why Larry would need anybody to come 8,000 miles to water his plants twice a week. In time, perhaps we will.