Bocelli And Beans With Sun

It's high noon and I'm about up to here with vampire weather.  We throw aside the morning paper and head for the door, eyes fixed on points east sure to be frying in hot sunshine.  I want to throw a shadow, not belong to the cast of Dark Shadows (ancient vampire soap opera from the 70s).

We aim the car at San Juan Bautista, a teensy town in San Benito County just this side of Hollister.  The itsiest of bitsy burgs (pop. 1500 or so) embraces a beautiful Spanish mission built in 1797, dedicated to St. John the Baptist.  It's well worth a special trip, a real gem.  We zoom along for miles under a gloomy sky.  But, we are hopeful.

An hour later, we roll to a halt in front of one of at least a dozen antique stores in the middle of town.  San Juan's charm immediately slows my pace.  Is there sun?  I am relieved to say yes, the sun is out.  I think to take a picture of the bakery across the street, which proves to be my last photograph.

The worst I can say about San Juan Bautista is that it's quiet - drowsy, actually -  but that's exactly why you come to it, so there's really no knock at all.  We realize our stomachs are growling and then fall into a deep sadness when we arrive at Poblanito's on the main street.  It's been closed.  Their mole' sauce was fit for royalty and had no comparison anywhere.  This is a blow, but it's not the end of the world.  We are fine with Jardines de San Juan, a rambling property with a casual and gracious garden dining area under spreading pepper trees, riots of scarlet geraniums and potted plants adorned with flowers.

I order ablondigas soup and tortillas and settle down to wait. We crunch our tortilla chips and savor the brilliant red chile salsa.  The garden begins to have its effect on me, as gardens do, and I notice this place is actually romantic and wonderful looking, especially with bolts of bright sunlight splashing all over the ground.  Red, gold, blue and green umbrellas are rich accents against dark shadows.  I think to myself:  I love shadows! and how peculiar that would sound out loud.

There has been music playing, and the romance factor is fairly undeniable.  We are smiling a lot and cannot button our jackets with all the love we are full of.  I am thinking it's largely the effect of seeing sunshine for the first time in two weeks.  Until...I hear Andrea Bocelli's song begin.  Exactly then, in an ironically perfect swoop and looking immensely pleased, the waiter sets a huge plate of beans down for me to eat with my soup.

Con te partiro, he sings.  I become a fool for love and imagine iconic moments with the music swelling in the background.

This is a song you reserve for hearty food served with loving flourishes, sweeping gestures, penetrating looks deep into each other's souls.  It's operatic, emotional and surely was sung with such intensity by the two singers that their buttons popped off and their hair stood straight up.  Drama is required, demanded, and I feel like obliging.  If I were in Italy, I would not hesitate. But, we are in a Mexican restaurant in a sleepy town just past the edge of a penetrating fog, so mild restraint of one's wild emotions fits better.

In a surge of joie de vivre and misty-eyed romanticism, I salute my friends wherever they find themselves, moments we've shared together or simply written words read across miles.  I take the small caresses of sunshine deeply to heart.  Life is where you feel it, and it was all heart today.  (A special salut to Sharon W., packing for Uganda.  Long may you sing, my friend!)