With our stove in Puerto Vallarta still on the fritz we fled to check out San Miguel, our intended permanent home in Mexico. On our way, we stopped in Ajijic for the night.
Marge suggested we go to dinner at this little hole in the wall that features four expats singing old folk songs on Tuesday nights.
Lighted candles stuck in wine bottles on the tables. I haven't seen that since 1969! Coffee house in the basement of the Campus Ministry at WSU, as I recall. Called Konia House or something like that. Don't know why. It also had upended giant wooden cable spools as tables. This place didn't have those. Surprisingly, the whole candle-in-bottle thing fit perfectly. And the food was magnificent.
The embarrassing thing was, not only did I know all the choruses but I also knew all the verses to the songs. Marge knew most of them, too. Usually, the danger when Marge really gets into the music is that she ends up dancing on the table. This time I was more worried about her slipping into a peasant dress and becoming a guitar-strumming strolling waitress.
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