Love in the Time of Economic Depression

Paris, the city of love? I think not. Every where I look in San Miguel love abounds. I come across this out pouring of affection daily in SMA. I see couples snuggling by the fountain, young lovers and stolen kisses on a darkened side street, The husband embracing his wife and tenderly caressing her swollen pregnant belly, mothers and fathers dancing in the twilight to the Mariachi music. Today I saw a mother's love, a baby suckling on the street.

YesterdayI recounted my sightings to Javier and Thelma, jokingly telling them it was difficult to be without Kevin with all the public display of affection. Do I need more proof than the engagement of my two new friends to prove that love is in the air?

As destiny would have it, I have not had to miss out. After seeing the mother breast feeding her baby, I was planning what to say in my blog while walking up Correo when I was approached by a boy who couldn't have been older than 15, if even that old. He asked if I was lost. That was a reasonable question since I had taken too long deciding which street had the better view. I told him I was not lost and just sight seeing. At this he introduced himself and stuck out his hand. I shook his extended hand, but didn't quite hear what he said (he was standing on my left, deaf, side). I turned to put my good ear to him and he tried to pull me close for a kiss. Aye Carrumba! I was a bit shocked; however, I assumed this was a cultural misunderstanding. How was he to know I was deaf in one ear?

Awkwardly, I walk on and Juan never flags. He is right there step for step telling me how beautiful the jardin and the churches are and I keep saying, "Yes, I know. I've been here for a while." Not knowing how to get rid of him ( I have not learned the Spanish words for - Thank you, but you are making me uncomfortable and wish you would leave me alone) I think: Maybe if I give him a tip he will go away. He says thank you and we part at the corner of San Francisco and Barranca.

It is here, my friends, that I wish I could end my story; however, there is more. Oh so much more. My friendly tour guide quickly comes back, and turns into the most enterprising Don Juan. He begins by asking what I thought was: "Will you be my girlfriend?" to which I smile and reply "I'm sorry I have a boyfriend." Juan continues:

"Would you like to give me a kiss?"
"No, gracias, mis besos son para mi novio solamente. No thanks my kisses are only for my boyfriend." I try to walk faster.

"You are so pretty, you have nice hair." To which I think:Did he just say I have nice hair, I'm not sure better ask. On clarifying himself, I learn that while yes my hair may be pretty it's my breasts of which he is particularly fond . He is in fact so enamoured with "the girls" he asks to play with them.

Those of you that know me can picture my face at this point. I look around searching for a store to duck into and up head I see la policia. Juan must take my silence as misunderstanding, he continues his quest and asks me point blank if I want to make love, "Querias hacer amor?" I've decided that this has gone way too far and so quickly too. I drop the good-natured, stupid tourist act and pointedly look at the approaching police officer and back at Juan. With a smack on the shoulder and a sharp look in the eye, I drop the smile and raise my voice and carefully enunciate: "ADIOS, JUAN!"

I'm not exactly sure what was the deterrent for my passionate little friend. Maybe it was my I'm- going-to-kick-you-in-the-huevos look or the prominence of an authority figure, but I was relieved to see him go. Quite fittingly our separation took place right outside a store that sold sexy lingerie. The name of the store: SEXY. Is that Irony or coincidence? I don't know, but it sure tops my list of "Most Outrageous Encounters", and I can now say I was almost loved in San Miguel.