In San Miguel de Allende the man who sharpened knives peddled his bike up and down each street. To be sure you knew he was coming, he used a high pitched whistle.
So when I heard that same whistle here in San Pancho, I grabbed my biggest kitchen knives, hopped in the car, and went to find the knife sharpener.
Driving through our San Pancho neighborhood, I followed the whistle, rather like a steam whistle, and found him.
He wasn't busy so I thrust my biggest knives at him, using my poor Spanish to explain what I wanted. He looked rather startled! And I took the time to notice empty banana peels on the front of his cart.
He was not a knife sharper at all. He was selling steamed bananas.
Quite embarrased, I took my knives back and left quickly.
Curt said I, at the very least, could have bought a banana.
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