A Hundertwasser Mexico

This morning, sure enough, and as is usual in Mexican towns, rifles fired off shots (bright and early) to signify the celebration of Allende, for whom the town is named for.
I stepped outside, the day was absolutely beautiful with a perfect temperature to be wearing a light sweater, and only one cute puffy cloud in the sky. I began my walk through town, and it occured to me that it really makes a difference not being on asphalt all the time. The roads are cobblestone here in San Miguel, and un-even surfaces rule. You have to build up ankle strength over time, walking around this town.
True throughout Mexico, there are gaps and holes and poles to fall or run into, sometimes dangerous, but mostly appealing to me who has come from asphalt jungles and too many signs telling me where or where not to go, look out for this or that, construction ahead, do not enter, maximum speed, is: The appeal (in San Miguel de Allende, at least*,) that the German artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser saught: organic surfaces everywhere, where your body could sense where to step and use its own sensual intelligence in an organic world.
I am living on Cerrada de Manantial in the 'ecological apartments' (Built by Beatriz Orvañanos) at the moment, and I think it is so much like the HundertwasserHaus in Vienna (see: German Wikipedia articles on Hundertwasserhaus), each apartment ecologically produced, and the feng-shui is significantly mejor than other places, it is a safe, affordable housing for at least 12 (maybe more) families. It has been the best place to stay thusfar in Mexico, feeling perfect for the mind, (tasteful design and simple) heart, and budget.
In Oaxaca Journal (Oliver Sacks) a collegeue says something like, 'In the United States, we are told what to do; in Mexico you have to use your brains'. There is no sign that says, 'Watch out for that hole' Watch out for that pole'. As I walked on the wind kicked up as it has been so in January, and the dust started to blow. Everything is dry now and arid, there is a thick layer of dust on every car and surface, and even my laptop needs a daily bath, as does my face, and eyes, and throat full of dust. Still, beautiful and desolate, I wish this experience to never leave my heart.



*to be fair, much of Mexico is littered with unfinished and non-ecological construction: cement or brick walls, pinned of rusting rebar, standing roofless and naked in non-nourishished stretches of land that was ruthlessly depleted over the centuries; the lack of money leaves barren countrysides without this appeal that I mention!