A CLEAN, WELL-LIGHTED PLACE (Part II)

The official name is"Biblioteca Publica de San Miguel de Allende A.C.," and it is located in the center of town on bustling Insurgentes Street.  For many of us, it's the epicenter of expat life here. And you don't need to be a bookworm to fall in love with the place.

The building has had many guises over the centuries. Once a sanctuary for homeless women, it later served as a slaughterhouse and then a private home for one very wealthy lady. After the owner kindly donated her residence to the town, it assumed its current use as a lending library. It's gone through numerous renovations and upgrades, but a homey feeling still prevails.

Today, the Biblioteca has holdings of more than 60,000 volumes in Spanish, English, German, or French. It hosts lectures, films, and theater events, a scholarship program for young students, and numerous cultural activities. There's a computer room for kids, which is packed after the schools let out for the day.

One lady I knew took a pinata-making course upstairs, and you'll find yoga and music classes, too. Just off the central courtyard and up a ramp, there's a pleasant restaurant, named after a certain Mexican general, that is popular with foreign visitors. I don't mean the general.

Cafe Santa Ana

Of course, I didn't know any of that when I first stumbled into the open hacienda-style courtyard one especially miserable December morning last year.

A bubbling fountain with Christmas decorations stood in the center of this comfortable space, with passageways with high arches on all four side.  Metal tables and chairs were scattered about, occupied by Mexicans and a few gringos. Tentatively, I passed through the archway directly in front of me, went up another long ramp, and entered the pellucid air of the collections rooms.

I discovered an amazingly large selection of books in English (many donated by American and Canadian residents who no doubt have since passed into the great beyond): everything from philosophy to cat care, from biographies to detective fiction, from travel books to self-conscious studies of French cinema of the '60's. It's all on a grand-old scale.

There are numerous and varied reading rooms, some intimate. One sala is dedicated exclusively to South American writers, in Spanish and in translation. This place became my favorite hangout, but only when there aren't music lessons in progress there. The maestro at the piano and his pocket-sized pupils deserve a wide berth.

My entire life I've loved libraries (and bookstores, of course). Then the Amazon revolution in mail-order books and then ebooks transpired and these places lost their relevance to my life.  But all that changed after I discovered the Biblioteca. Here in the silence among the  heavy, slightly worn wooden tables and chairs and baroque stacks of hardbound books, I found a sanctuary. It's a great place to get away from it all and find yourself at the same time.

The Biblioteca also is a perfect setting for making friends among expats, visiting or permanent. Some have rather unique perpectives.  One particular lady has won my admiration. She gets around with the use of a metal walker that looks like it has seen more miles than a '63 Chevy. Lashed to the front of this contraption is a hand-lettered sign that reads: "I DON'T NEED ANY HELP; SO DON'T ASK ME!" She represents the spirit of scrappy independence I often find in people who choose to settle in these parts.

The Biblioteca celebrates its 50th anniversary this year. I know I'm not alone in wishing it many more.




© 2014 Tony DeCrosta 
Contact me at adecrosta@gmail.com