The Sunday Traveler headed out one morning for a couple of hours with my cousin, tour guide, checking out a couple of little towns on the outskirts of Morelia where I was staying. San Miguel del Monte (last week was San Jesus) was really hitting the backroads as far as I was concerned (though more was still coming over the next week). My kind of fabulous.
The previous pueblito we had visited right before this had been founded in 1525, and San Miguel del Monte was possibly older, judging by the church, but it could be the church is smaller and simpler because this little town is even smaller and more out in the mountains than San Jesus.
Approaching the church’s door one can see how small the church is, and walking in one is not surprised by seeing that the interior is one small room, no ornate ceiling or chandeliers, no side aisles, no gilded statues. A woman, the “manager of the day” sat in front reading from her prayer book. The women of the village take turns staying at the church during the day she told me, feeling a need to be sure all was ok there.
I’m not sure why I was hesitant to ask the woman to take her photo, though I wanted to badly; I usually don’t hesitate to ask when I would like to take someone’s photo; but something held me back, maybe a feeling of invading her world that was so far removed from social media and blogs. The woman was open and authentic. I thought about missing her photo and wanting to remember her; that night as I went through my iPhone photos I found my photo of her
I unintentionally got a reflection of her as she stood behind me as I took a photo of a Virgin Mary in a glass case. There was something about this contrast of virgin and woman next to each other that makes me wonder about how the Universe works things out for me…or maybe plays little jokes on me. And then there’s the contrast of two women of different worlds, and then the one taking the photo, yes, I’m in there too.
Going back outside, the cousin and I strolled around the church courtyard and street in front of the church.
It was time to head back home. It had been a pretty darn good morning in my book