We situated ourselves on a sunny Guanajuato plaza, hungry for a light lunch of carrot and potato enchiladas—called enchiladas mineras in Guanajuato, enchiladas queretanos in Querétaro, enchiladas del portal in San Miguel de Allende.

Restaurants put out umbrella-shaded tables. I sat at one, contemplating an old ore cart left over from the city’s mining days. Now it serves as a planter. What else are they good for?

Wandering musicians present themselves uninvited at our table. This man vigorously strummed his blue guitar—apparently last tuned in ‘98. A chicken-choking grip on the neck revealed an absence of classical training. No matter: his atonal music was vibrant, enthusiastic, and most entertaining.

Something about his appearance reminded me of the Simpsons character, Hans Moleman.

The itinerant guitarist-singers, playing as they were to groups of Mexicans, avoided gringo tourist favorites—Cielito Lindo, La Paloma. The tunes and chords were unmistakably Mexican; the lyrics were unique and playful.

Most street musicians are not very good, but we don’t expect them to be. A Guanajuato plaza ain’t La Scala.

But their tunes contribute to the lazy pace, the uncomplicated food, the quiet warmth of the afternoon.