Postcard from Guanajuato, Mexico: Makes no sense to start with a pair of French restaurants, except…

Above, a pistachio and berry chocolate tarte and a strawberry tarte from La Vie en Rose

I thought that love was just a word | They sang about in songs I heard | It took your kisses to reveal | That I was wrong, and love is real. | Hold me close and hold me fast | The magic spell you cast | This is la vie en rose.

English translation of Edith Piaf’s “La Vie en Rose”

Ah, finally rediscovering the boulevardier-type pleasure of entering a restaurant on a daily basis and ordering from a menu versus all that pent-up time of cooking at home during the past year or so. This blog will be taking you to numerous dining establishments in Guanajuato over the next week to help ignite your wanderlust. Two French ones come first because we are hoping to head to France in about ten days and don’t want you to tire of reading about French food.

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Postcard from Guanajuato, Mexico: Times call for pulling this holy card out of the deck

Having spent the past week a stone’s throw away from Templo de San Roque in the heart of Guanajuato, it seemed imperative to discover more about the saint. He definitely falls into my category of “saintly stories nuns never taught me.”

Hard for a boy born with his breast emblazoned with a red birthmark in the form of a cross to avoid his calling. Following the death of both of his wealthy parents by the time he was 20, San Roque (1295-1327) (although “San” was not what Saint Roch, or Rock, was named until more than a century later) sold his inherited worldly goods and distributed the proceeds amongst the poor in his native home of Montpelier, France. Joining the Third Order of Saint Francis (Does this mean he was married?), he headed out to Italy with an eye to visit the tombs of the apostles.

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Whoopee, biannual roundup: Favorite postcards from this blog

Above: Remnants of the South Austin Museum of Popular Culture are found at its former home on South Lamar Boulevard.

Yes, I know. This blog is suffering a bit of an identity crisis. First, 2020 abruptly cut short my boulevardier ways, and then in early 2021 we pulled up stakes and moved up the road to Austin.

This blogger entertained herself throughout much of the pandemic by posting her entire novel – An Ostrich-Plumed Hat, and, Yes She Shot Him Dead – online, slowly unfolding it chapter by chapter. A few of my readers actually followed Hedda Burgemeister all the way through her 19teens trial for murder; although, I had been hoping for a little more feedback and filming rights have yet to be sold. Others have embraced posts about our new neighborhood as we started boulevardier-ing north and south off Lamar Bouldevard.

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