Posts Tagged With: history

Christmas 2024: San Miguel de Allende

After mulling over an extended trip to Japan over Christmas during our New England and Canada road trip this past summer, we quickly concluded that the time and focus needed to plan the logistics of that trip would be misspent while actively engaged in another. And so we defaulted to an easier-to-plan, one-stop trip to a location closer by that’s been on our list for a few years: San Miguel de Allende in the center of Mexico.

The town had been on our radar for a few reasons:

  • Most notably, the town hosted the finale of Top Chef one season, and the gastronomic reputation of San Miguel appeals to us
  • The Boston Connells spent more than a month in San Miguel back in the day as part of the boys’ Spanish immersion education (which certainly paid off, considering that one of them ended up taking two semesters of college engineering courses in Spain – in Spanish – and the other spent a month in Ecuador last year)
  • There’s a Rosewood there

The choice turned out to be a wise one – really beautiful place, both from a distance during cocktail hour:

And up close and personal in town:

We took a walking tour our first morning there, and our guide stated that San Miguel now consists of 14% gringos, and that, although Americans began visiting the town in meaningful numbers after WW II due to a Spanish language school that was covered by the GI Bill, the big surge came much later. Due, according to our guide, to a proclamation a dozen years ago by Conde Nast Travel that San Miguel was the most beautiful town in the world.

Moneyed Americans (and Canadians) soon followed – first as visitors, then as residents.

UNESCO also designated the center of town as a World Heritage Site, which is a pretty meaningful statement about the place. As a result of these moneyed new residents and the UNESCO designation, San Miguel has been beautifully preserved. Or gentrified. It’s a fine line.

And in all of the town declared by Conde Nast to be the most beautiful in the world, the magazine declared this street to be the most beautiful in town (and in the world). While the specific rank is questionable to us, considering some of the places that we’ve visited, it was undeniably beautiful, and made more so by the Christmas decorations here and all around the center of town:

And cool street views weren’t limited to just that most famous lane:

Cool dia de los muertos mural by a local artist in a San Miguel bar:

And the dia de los muertos accessories didn’t stop there.

The rather picturesque Templo de Nuestra Señora de la Salud/Temple of Our Lady of Health:

First lunch in town at a fish taco place – pretty good!

San Miguel’s bull ring, which still hosts bull fighting events (none of which were held during our visit, though):

Great view from the rooftop bar at our place, with San Miguel’s landmark Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel (Parish Church of St. Michael, Archangel) as a centerpiece of the vista:

Although the town is actually named after a 16th-century friar, Juan de San Miguel (and Ignacio Allende, who we’ll get to), the San Miguel reference we most commonly encountered during our visit was the town’s patron saint and parish church personality – St. Michael the Archangel.

Pretty good view of the parish church from our room’s terrace, too!

Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel was, in fact, omnipresent during our visit. One simply could not escape its intrusion. Which was a good thing, from a town aesthetics point of view. . .

Both up close:

And from afar:

And during the day:

And at night:

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Christmas Eve:

Christmas Eve dinner at Aperi:

And the tradition of the traveling Christmas stockings continues!

Christmas day in the Rosewood’s courtyard (not sure this functions in email version of post):

Christmas Day lunch at Bovine, featuring outstanding suckling pork.

Christmas dinner at Rosewood’s gastronomic restaurant 1826 absolutely sucked balls, and so does not merit any photographic documentation.

Instead, let’s turn to a field trip we took to the birthplace of the Mexican revolution: Guanajuato, about a 1.5-hour drive from San Miguel.

Unlike San Miguel, which permits residents to paint house in whatever color they wish – as long as it’s some shade of ocher or red – Guanajuato really does allow any color paint. As evidenced in the kaleidoscope of house colors seen from the belle view over town:

So, here’s Guanajuato’s role in the overthrow of Mexico of Spanish rule. During the Spanish colonial period, the region around and including Guanajuato was home to incredibly productive silver mines, yielding great wealth. But only to some – namely, the Spanish-born aristocracy. A stark wealth gap developed between these aristocrats and the indigenous and mestizo inhabitants working the mines and haciendas, and the areas slaves. Moreover, the native-born Spanish also were denied wealth and agency, and so, in the late 18th century, multiple rebellions broke out. All of them brutally suppressed and unsuccessful.

In 1809, however, a group led by Ignacio Allende, Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, Juan Aldama, Miguel Domínguez planned an armed revolt against the colonial government. (The last part of San Miguel de Allende takes its moniker from the first guy, bringing closure to our San Miguel discussion earlier in the post).

In September 1810, the rebel forces arrived in Guanajuato and besieged Spanish loyalist forces holed up in the city’s heavily fortified grain exchange, below:

The rebels besieged the grain exchange, but there were only four doors and rifles on the roof. So this dude, Juan José Martínez – a silver miner – strapped a slap of stone on his back and charged one of the doors, setting it alight and gaining entry. All of the loyalists were killed.

But the Spanish forces caught up with the leaders. “The four main participants – Hidalgo, Ignacio Allende, Juan Aldama, and José Mariano Jiménez – were shot by Spanish firing squads, and their bodies decapitated. The four heads were hung from the corners of the Grain Exchange, to discourage other independence movements. The heads remained hanging for ten years, until Mexico achieved its independence. They were then taken to Mexico City and eventually put to rest under el Ángel de la Independencia in 1910.” (From here.)

On to more contemporary activities; namely, our second funicular of the year!

Pretty cool town.

Guanajuato Basilica, now that we’re down in the city:

The town’s opera house, Teatro Juárez:

And the Jesuit University of Guanajuato, which looks way more like a church, frankly.

Albeit with visually appealing green limestone facade elements – this limestone is unique to Guanajuato.

The tourist-trap Alley of the Kiss; with two balconies close enough to do so, the location spawned a local Romeo and Juliette-style legend.

Pretty cool main cultural area, with topiary-style park trees, a la San Miguel.

Juan José Martínez from down below:

And one more stop before our return – a bunch of mummies. There’s a story regarding the high cost of burial, a poor population, abandoned corpses, and naturally dry climate that accounts for all of this, but that’s for a later post. For now, just be a little grossed out. (As much, or perhaps more so, than by their counterparts in Sicily last year.)

Another great night in San Miguel (which we did prefer greatly over Guanajuato, for what it’s worth).

A normal creche in the city’s main park during the day:

And a rather more contemporary version encountered in town that night:

Pretty happening square!

The most prominent Spanish aristocratic families in San Miguel, btw, supported the rebellion against the Spanish crown in 1810. As a result, they retained their haciendas and their palaces in town. To this day, some of the most valuable properties in town are still owned by less than a dozen noble Spanish families. This includes several, huge private churches around town that are open to the public only on specific feast days. And even then only for, like, a 7:30 AM mass, then they’re back outta there and doors are closed.

Dinner with a view that night at Quince:

And some unexpected entertainment (not sure this functions in email version of post):

And then a ringside table to the main event, of which we were completely unaware prior to sitting down here:

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A walk one morning straight up hill to the Mirador neighborhood occupying the heights over San Miguel.

Great views all along the way of downtown San Miguel:

Pretty good combo: a sign with the archangel and the dude’s church right below:

Some downtime at Rosewood:

Final dinner of the trip:

Adios, San Miguel.

And adios to our 2024 travels!

Pretty good year:

  • February: Colombia
  • April: Uruguay, Argentina, Chile, Brazil, Peru
  • May: Texas
  • June: Georgia
  • July – September: Pennsylvania, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Maine, Vermont, New York, Quebec, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, Rhode Island
  • October: Delaware
  • November: St. Barts
  • December: Mexico

On to a new year and new adventures!

Categories: Caribbean, Mexico | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Turkey and Back to Greece: Paros Part 3 – The Final Reckoning (Or, Parikia, a Lighthouse Hike, and the Linguistically Exact Opposite of Paros)

The final post on the Turkey and Back to Greece trip (finally!). And just in the nick of time: we’re hitting the road (and the Adriatic Sea) tomorrow, and so won’t be posting any of the other backlogged trips for a while. These are all the long trips (versus week-long trips that we responsibly posted immediately after getting back from each), and include the following:

We’ll eventually post the detailed content on each of these trips here on WolfeStreetTravel.com; in the meantime, we’ll be posting pics in real time during two upcoming extended trips over the next 5 months @wolfestreettravel on Instagram, if you’re interested.

Back to our final post on Paros. . .

Although we chose not to stay in the largest town on the island (for reasons obvious here), we nonetheless headed to Parikia one day during our stay on Paros as a day trip.

Very cool, bustling burg. With equally cool, wooden-framed bikes to boot.

The absolute most intriguing site in town has to be the Frankish Castle.

Built by the Venetians in the 1200s on the site of the town’s ancient acropolis, the “castle” (actually the remains of a tower that was part of a castle wall) was constructed Jenga-style using the vestiges of classical temples from around the island.

Little remains of the original fortification, and nearby structures incorporate what remains into their own walls.

One of the three “Mavrogenus’ Fountains” found around town. ” Nicolaos Mavrogenus was one of the prodigal sons of Parikia, Paros Island main town in the Greek Cyclades. Missing his native Aegean and as Wallachia governor decided benefit his hometown providing a public drinking water supply [in 1777]: three beautiful marble fountains.” (From here.)

And another (we never came across the third):

Finally getting a gyro at a local place in Parikia’s port (the empty plate would soon be filled):

The Byzantine-era church complex of Panagia Ekatontapiliani (The Church with 100 Doors):

According to tradition, the church currently has 99 doors and a secret, 100th door will open when the church of Hagia Sofia in Constantinople become Orthodox Christian again.

The original church dates back to 326, during the reign of Roman Emperor Constantine, and purportedly was founded by his mother, Helene (whose sarcophagus we came across during the micronations road trip).

We think the church elders employed third graders to carve the church’s tombstones:

In the 6th century, Byzantine Emperor Justinian enhanced the church and added a dome.

Another view of the Frankish Castle as we head out of town.

The best hike we experienced on the island took us to the Korakas Cape Lighthouse at the northwest tip of the island.

Another field trip, this time a short ferry ride to the polar opposite of the island of Paros: Antiparos (it’s just a smaller island than Paros).

With a really picturesque main town:

Bye, Antiparos.

And bye, Paros, and Cappadocia, and Istanbul. Trip posts complete!

Categories: Greece | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Turkey and Back to Greece: Cappadocia Part 6 (the Final One) – Göreme Cave Monastery

As you may have discerned from the flurry of recent (but paradoxically still dated) posts on a trip back in September 2022, we’re trying to get our act together and get WolfeStreetTravel.com up to date. (@wolfestreetravel on Instagram is always current, for what it’s worth, inasmuch as we post there in real time during our travels.)

With that context, this post mercifully is our last one on the Cappadocia leg of the Turkey / Greece trip, before we pivot to the trip’s second leg in Greece. (We’re trying to address the entirety of the remainder of this trip before we take off soon for another long jaunt in Europe, when where posting will once again cease for a while. Upon our return we’ll get to the other four backlogged trips (which will have grown to five by then).)

Our flight departing Cappadocia for Athens took off in the afternoon, so we spent the morning of our last day wandering through the Göreme Cave Monastery complex down the road from our base town. Founded in the 4th century on the instruction of Saint Basil of Caesarea, this complex of monasteries, nunneries, churches, and chapels existed for a thousand years. It was far and away the coolest of the troglodyte settlements we visited in Cappadocia for reasons that will immediately become apparent.

There were so many structures here to appreciate – predominantly cave churches – that it became a little overwhelming to take everything in. One delineation of cave church decoration helped us contextualize things, though: did the cave feature rudimentary symbols and patterns (representative of the iconoclastic era) or were the walls and ceiling drenched in richly illustrated frescos of saints and other religious themes that characterized the post-iconoclastic era? The former represented an era in the 8th and 9th centuries, when while the Byzantine church found religious images to be idolatrous, and the latter were created later, when the iconophiles won out in arguing that these depictions were acceptable – and even desirable – for enlightening the illiterate (similar to western European medieval church frescos and, later, stained windows).

The first church we encountered (which we forgot to identify for later review) exemplified the iconoclastic style:

Just red ochre symbols and patterns:

But that was just the beginning.

St. Barbara

The iconoclastic style also adorned the raw rock walls of this much more ornately decorated cave church.

Decorated almost entirely in red ochre geometric designs and religious symbols, every soffit, cornice, and pendentive (triangles supporting the domes) are embellished.

These mostly are manifested as triangles, checks, lightning-bolt-looking things, and Maltese crosses.

Oh – and there’s a boxing pheasant on one end of a barrel vault in St. Barbara? Or something? Definitely the most amusing yet mysterious of the images.

Below the boxing pheasant, of course, is a very post-iconoclastic images of Saint George and Saint Theodore. Not sure what to say about this juxtaposition.

Whether iconoclastic symbols or lush paintings, we found these churches to be so compelling because of the incredible age of the art and the palpable presence of everything so present with you, where you could reach out and touch a symbol that a monk applied to an arch more than a millennium ago.

Our hometown is old and, with a founding date of 1749, we pass by centuries’ old buildings and artifacts every day. Hell, our house is 100 years old. But St. Barbara dates to ~1100 (don’t ask how to reconcile how this falls after the iconoclast era), and being so casually close to religious art that old and yet so accessible elicited a pretty palpably powerful feeling of awe.

Dark Church

At the opposite end of the spectrum is the foreboding-sounding “Dark Church” (so named not for serving as the unholy site of arcane acts and an upside down cross, but because the only illumination of the church results from a small window in the church’s narthex). As a result of this paucity of sunlight, the paintings inside have been remarkably preserved.

The Dark Church definitely had the most ornate exterior. While the other churches’ exteriors were simply the rocky hillside, the Dark Church exterior featured a carved façade, including a series of keyhole niches with Greek crosses.

The entrance:

Very different interior from the iconoclastic churches!

The central dome features the very Byzantine Christ Pantocrator image and the four archangels (Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, and Azrael) occupy the four small domes surrounding it.

These paintings all date from the latter half of the 11th century.

Amazing that this work from 1100 years ago still remains, unaltered, to appreciate:

Snake Church

Although the Snake Church clearly demonstrates full illustrations representative of the post-iconoclasm period, it nonetheless also represents something of a transition in its liberal use of simple drawings and symbols, including on the outside of the cave church:

“The mural painting on the left has five figures—St. Onesimus standing in a red robe, Saints George and Theodore on horseback, and Saints Constantine and Helen holding the True Cross.

The figure nearest the door is St. Onesimus, mentioned in the New Testament letter Philemon. He was a first-century slave who escaped from his master in Colossae (near modern Pamukale/Denizli). As Onesimus was hiding in Rome, he encountered the apostle Paul and became a Christian. To restore their relationship, Paul sent Onesimus back to his master Philemon (who happened to be Paul’s friend), requesting forgiveness. According to church tradition, Onesimus was later martyred, as symbolized by the white cross that he holds.” (From here.)

Inside, along one side of the nave, can be found the reason behind the name: an image of Saint George and Saint Theodore slaying a dragon, here depicted as a snake (you can make out the scaly body on the right bottom and the tail on the left, but there’s not a lot left to make out of the head):

More of the mix of iconoclastic and post-iconoclastic imagery on the barrel-vaulted ceiling of the nave.

At the far end, a rudimentary apse with Jebus on the lunette above:

And a cool checkerboard pattern above the entrance:

St. Basil’s Chapel

“The left wall has two panel icons. The tall image on the left is St. Basil the Great, the famed bishop of Caesarea (d. 379 AD) who defended Nicene Orthodoxy and pioneered Byzantine monasticism.

The larger square image is St. Theodore on a red horse, spearing a snake. His clothing mimics Roman military attire, but has subtle Persian designs. Theodore Stratelates (“The General”) was martyred in 319 AD in Pontus (northern Turkey).” (From here.)

“The large, square icon is St. George riding a white horse. He was a Roman officer from Cappadocia who died in the early 300’s, in Nicomedia (the first capital of the Eastern Roman Empire, modern Izmit).” (From here.)

The coolest aspects of St. Basil’s though had to be the tombs. In a cave. (Cave graves, if you will.) The acrosolium (arched recess with grave) below was part of the original church design:

However, twelve more were later carved into the stone floor of the church – adults in the middle and infants on the side:

The occupants of the cave graves are unknown. This one was reminiscent of the crystal skeleton in the ATM cave in Belize.

On our way out, a familiar sight over the valley:

Cappadocia complete! From here, we hightailed it back to our place in Göreme, grabbed our luggage, and headed to the airport – and thence to the Greek Cyclades island of Paros.

Categories: Turkey | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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