After 8 months of life in California that included a life-threatening illness, spontaneous excursions in the snow-capped mountains to the crisp coast, and weeks of untimely scrambling to showcase our home for prospective buyers- I am writing to you from abroad once more! Guanajuato, Mexico is a colonial town dating back to the Spanish conquistadors of the 1500s. Twenty minutes from the airport in Leon and four hours out of Mexico City, Guanajuato lies 6,000 ft up at the heart of the country. Here winding cobblestone roadways are nestled between mountainous terrain: eclectic San Franciscan homes paint the rolling sky scape in chipped reds, oranges, and yellows, warm blues and greens, and sun kissed brick. On the breeze floats the cheerful tittering of pajaros and the faint rumbling of the road below. The atmosphere is one of urban serenity, a concept foreign to Americans. Here the people take long, slow strides and greet each other as they pass. The traffic moves at the infantile pace of the rickety buses, who get reprimanded with routes if they arrive at their set destination too quickly. In this oasis halfway between the heavens and the sprawling Mexican desert, it is evident that in Guanajuato there is an ethereal peace the permeates existence. Legend says the Mexican revolution was spurred on from inside these saloons. Larger-than-life muralist Diego Rivera grew up on these streets. It is a town rooted in a history richer and deeper than even that of the people whose ancestors walked under this Guanajuatan sky. Perhaps the tangible passage of time in this city contributes to the ease with which life moves. Maybe this ease simply stems from Mexican culture, which notoriously moves two hours slower than the rest of the world. Or still, perhaps it is something more ancient, more mysterious, hidden in the hills. For now, all I understand is that the world has a lesson to learn from Guanajuato: peace begins with the simple things.