When walking in San Miguel de Allende you need your sea legs. Or better yet, your alligator legs. Because the ground leaps up like a scaly lumpy alligator’s back, undulating and swerving, stretching and yawning. Thanks to the locals that smile at you from their cars and patiently slow to a near idle in their green and whites or their everyday mobility taking their time weaving in and out. I don’t know how the motorcyclists do it – the serpentine, scaly street backs leap to and fro while wheels careen and kidneys shake. Looking up is a common pastime on the cobblestone streets which can be perilous as a quick stumble can blacken and blue precious cheeks and chins, thighs and ankles. All at once, as if the serpent decided to pull itself from under you like a juggling artist pulls a tablecloth out from underneath a well- appointed dining room table, china cups and all. Except this time you are the china cup that cracks. It doesn’t seem so bad at first, after all, you were looking up at the beautifully time-etched walls like layered carrot cake, icing and strawberry crème. Fascinating, enticing colors and textures. It was worth it. Until the next day when bruises blossom like wine bougainvillea flowers in El Jardin.