I should get out more

That’s a poached egg in the middle. Who knew?

My child bride had to attend to some legal matters in the nearby capital city on Thursday with members of her family. I was not needed. I was superfluous. I was unwanted perhaps. No matter.

After dropping her off at the appointed place and time, 10:30 a.m., quite early for us, I headed straight downtown to hunt Eggs Benedict in a restaurant we visited years ago.

I do love Eggs Benedict. I passed the restaurant, which sits just behind the cathedral, and parked in a multifloor garage for a pittance, the peso equivalent of 75 cents an hour.

I was on the third floor. I looked over an accessible edge and thought to myself: Great place to commit suicide.

Tragically, Eggs Benedict had been erased from the menu, so I ordered what you see above. It wasn’t Eggs Benedict, but it was quite tasty. I accompanied it with a fruit smoothie.

A shot from my table in the restaurant.

Departing the restaurant and mounting the Honda again, I motored to a shopping mall a few miles away and rambled around. I sat in a coffee shop with a double espresso. There were so many Kung Flu precautions that the experience was tainted.

I departed that shopping mall and drove to another — still killing time, mind you — a few miles farther and up a mountainside. I sat at a nicer coffee shop, a sidewalk table. I watched the passing crowd, such as it was on a Thursday afternoon. I exchanged text messages with Ms. Shoes, who was some miles away in a restaurant eating pasta because the pulled pork she prefers was unavailable.

After downing another espresso, a single this time, I walked to the Daily Pick nearby and ordered a teriyaki bowl. See below.

A bowl full of teriyaki stuff. Tasty. Note my knee.

I bought a shirt in a department store, first time in years. Normally, I purchase them in second-hand stores in my mountaintop town. I don’t do that often either.

At this point, I had been roaming around town, playboy style, five hours. I had one double espresso and one single, one mystery breakfast with a surprise poached egg and then a teriyaki bowl. It was a good day, but I was ready to return to my mountaintop home. Luckily, my child bride phoned, time to scoop her up.

Half an hour later, she was in the Honda.

The capital city is a great place to visit. I should do it more often, with or without her. With her is better, but flying solo is an interesting experience I rarely have anymore. Very different.

Down the mountain

I OFTEN refer to the capital city that sits down the mountain, about 40 minutes from here on a smooth four-laner.

We drive there at least once a week, almost exclusively for shopping. My mountaintop’s shopping is restricted mostly to tacos, tires and rebozos.

My first eight months in Mexico were spent in the capital city where I studied Spanish at a language school while living two months over a garage. I then spent another six months just walking around and living in a rented house.

I didn’t much like the town. Before moving there I read online that it was similar to the American Midwest, sorta dull. It was to Mexico what Topeka or Omaha are to America.

One day I took at bus up the mountain to visit the ancient and very different town where I’ve been a long time now. I liked it. I moved here. Been here ever since. Gonna die here.

However, in the past 17 years, the capital city has improved immensely. I would not mind living there now. I might even prefer it, but I’m not going to move.

Recently, an online piece from two years ago was brought to my attention by the inimitable Jennifer Rose. It describes our capital city in an admirable and accurate way.

Take a look. There are also great photos. The author, Stephenie Harris, claims it’s the most beautiful city in Mexico that nobody visits. And she says why she thinks that is the case.