One more sun

It is an unusual living situation, in many ways.

My husband, Peter, and I spend almost half the year down in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. We had a terrible experience in another town (an absentee American owner with a filthy rental) and we came running back to San Miguel, desperate to find a place to stay – any place that was clean and halfway affordable. And that is how Jorge found us.

“I have an apartment on Loreto that is available for the month,” he wrote, in response to my frantic post on the San Miguel Facebook page.

“That will be expensive,” I warned Peter.

Jorge told us the price. It was not expensive.

“That will be a dump!” I warned Peter.

It was not. It is a small apartment in a small hotel called “House of the Suns,” and has (according to Jorge) nearly 3,000 suns painted on various surfaces and hung from all the walls. Most of these were painted by Fabrizio, the artist Jorge keeps on more-or-less permanent retainer.

Our apartment is not fancy, and it is not large, but we are happy. All our friends either own their own homes here or rent something much larger and fancier. I sometimes admire their space (and their bathtubs!) but I cannot imagine leaving Jorge.

Every time we are down here, I buy another painting at an art gallery and hang it on the wall. Peter buys another cooking gadget. We buy more pillows, and the cupboards fill with our brightly colored dishes from the market and… we leave all of it, right where it is. Our apartment is rented out to other people while we are away, but Jorge does not mind.

Even so, I was reluctant to broach the subject of the table.

There is nothing wrong with our kitchen table. It’s heavy and round and built for the outdoors, so it did not start its life expecting to be a kitchen table. That is not a serious problem. But it occupies a large percentage of our small kitchen and has awkward legs. And so (because I have a far-too-busy brain), I had been agitating about this table.

“I think we need a new table,” I told Peter.

“You better ask Jorge.”

Peter’s No. 1 concern is keeping Jorge happy, and I share this concern. But I also wanted a new table. So I waited for the appropriate time, and I sprung.

“I have a very serious question for you,” I told Jorge – letting him know this might not be as serious as my words implied.

Jorge smiled. “Yes?” Jorge is always patient with my Spanish.

“I saw a table. It is square and painted, and I think it would be nice in the apartment. I wonder if I could buy it.” I did not think Jorge would need much convincing, but I wanted to seal the deal. “And perhaps I could pay Fabrizio to paint a sun on the table.”

Jorge smiled. Adding one more sun to our kitchen table certainly could not hurt.

“No problem,” Jorge said.

“For sure?” I asked.

“For sure,” he said.

So I went out the next day, and I bought the used blue and green painted table, and I carried it home. And the very next day, Fabrizio painted a magnificent sun on the top.

I don’t know if this is how hotels are supposed to operate – letting us put our art on the walls and swap out the furniture – but it seems to work for all concerned.

And now, I am looking at the chairs…

Till next time,

Carrie