We left Guadalajara on a short TAR Aerolíneas hop to Santiago de Querétaro where we caught a ride to a Mexican town I’ve been avoiding for years.
“San Miguel de Allende is an overpriced, overhyped, playground for rich snowbirds” I’ve been told. And thus, not knowing any different, I’ve stayed away.
History
San Miguel de Allende (SMA) was founded in the early 1500’s by Juan de San Miguel. With the best of intentions, he built a small chapel with a humble plan to save the souls of the indigenous Chichimeca and Otomí. Unfortunately in the ensuing years, as the Spanish conscripted many of the locals for work in the silver mines, bloody conflicts erupted, and they battled fiercely for decades.
Today, SMA shines with a rich patina of history built by architectural visionaries, decorated with the colorful hues of eclectic artists, socially influenced by pack-toting hippies, and densely populated with a vivid spectrum of local and foreign retirees. It was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2008 for its historic colonial architecture and its pivotal role in the Mexican War of Independence.
This mile-high city attracts expatriates like horseflies on frijoles. It is a relatively short 10-hour drive from the US border, a pleasant mountain climate, great food and drink, and it overflows with authentic Mexican character — borne from its festival-filled atmosphere and its energetic residents.
Friends in high places
The driver left us standing beside our luggage on a narrow sidewalk adjacent to a neat and modestly decorated concrete wall topped with broken glass shards. Shiny numbers on the door matched the address on the AirBnB reservation. Nervous, and still sticky-hot from the ride, I tentatively tapped on the door. A moment later it swung open to reveal the beaming grin of a man I hadn’t seen for forty years.
He was the same — broad in countenance and in character. He stood tall and confident, with the air of a man who lived his life in pursuit of adventure and social engagement.
Rick and I went to high school together in the 70’s but we spun off on our own separate paths soon thereafter. Decades later, along came the rise of social media, and what do you know — my new Facebook friend had a place to rent in a village I never intended to visit.
A pretty blonde woman with a matching smile and the most regal cheekbones I’ve ever seen peeked over his shoulder and shook us from our stupor. Rick’s wife Caroline beckoned us in with open arms. We crossed the threshold into the lush courtyard — our first steps of an incredible journey of old and new friendships and experiences.
Wobblestones
The first thing we learned in SMA was to walk gingerly. The central area of town is almost completely paved with irregular and occasionally loose cobblestones. Turning an ankle was more of a concern than the threat of petty crimes, as it has a reputation as one of Mexico’s safest cities.
Legend says that the locals and retirees are younger and more vibrant than in other towns. The elderly move away from here when they can no longer navigate the cobblestones and steep hills.
The first day we hiked relentlessly up and down those hills. In and out of eclectic shops, cafes, and opulent churches. Late that afternoon, completely churched out, dizzy from the altitude and legs a-wobbling, we spied a holy icon of the American dream: Starbucks. We rewarded our aching bodies with piping-hot chocolate ambrosia in a familiar recyclable paper chalice.
Discovery
It didn’t take long to get used to the altitude and we learned to limit our hiking to more manageable distances. It’s nice to be in an area that doesn’t require cars for most day to day needs, and a lot of people in SMA don’t even own one.
Subconsciously I struggled against it, but my anti-SMA bias softened as we sampled the restaurants and nightlife and hobnobbed with the locals. The town is an international mix of residents and the diversity of food reflects that. There weren’t any restaurants that we wouldn’t return to, and we tested them at both ends of the pricing spectrum.
The town was awash in expatriates and we enjoyed conversations with many. One European man was a huge fan of bullfighting and regaled us with stories of trips to Plaza de Toros in Mexico City, the world’s largest ring. “They’ll never quit!” he snorted when I questioned the morality. “It’s in the culture” he declared with feigned authority.
One day we visited a lovely spa to massage away the muscle aches from hiking. Another day we took a side trip to sample the goods from a local winery and capture the exquisite scents from a nearby lavender farm. Other times we just explored hidden cafes, talked about retirement life and reminisced about high school days with our newfound friends.
Making memories
Mostly I recall the colors. SMA was a dusty painter’s palette, dominated by mustard, burgundy, and peach. It was everywhere, from simple monochrome concrete walls to dazzling frescoes in the square. Flags and banners announced festivities with waves of bright primary colors. Churches were adorned in gold and gray, with rainbow patches spilling on the floors from the stained-glass windows.
And the people. Those who we encountered in our slogs up and down the narrow sidewalks were gracious and happy, locals and foreigners alike. The shopkeepers were kind and attentive. Sure, we’re among the so-called rich consumers who help their economy, but that’s a given throughout Mexico. Here it didn’t seem so transactional.
It may be fair to consider San Miguel de Allende a playground for the affluent. You’ll see plenty of money and plenty of people willing to spend it. Prices tend to be higher than other towns but still far less costly than Mexico’s northern neighbors.
But people don’t retire here to show off their money. They don’t come for sandy beaches and beers. They come for the true inland-town Mexican experience. They come for culture, color, and camaraderie.
I came to learn.
And along the way I made new friends, remade old friendships, and packed away a trunk full of great memories to cherish until my next visit.