Like visiting Paris three times before I toured the Louvre, I am finally reading Tony Cohan's book, On Mexican Time, for the first time. For those few Mexicophiles who haven't read it, it's about the author and his artist wife's escape from Los Angeles (and all L.A. stands for) in the 80's to San Miguel de Allende high in the mountains of colonial Mexico. Cohan's bright and spicy storytelling takes me right back to the Mexico I recently visited and the Mexico that swims around in my dreams of ex-patriate life.
I constantly feel torn between staying in this country where life is too complex and expensive but all my family resides, to pulling up stakes, cashing out, and discovering the other; becoming the other. In many ways, I will always feel like an outsider regardless of where I am. So why not be an outsider in a place where the colors, flavors, arts, and traditions are so rich?
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