By Sal Guarino
Photo by Lander Rodríguez
As a gringo, and now un mexicano en entrenamiento, as my guanajuatense wife enjoys playfully calling me, I was first enchanted by San Miguel de Allende in the same way that many del norte are – through a short trip “just to check it out” about three years ago. I was quickly intrigued, immediately appreciating its historic charm, vibrant streets, rich cuisine, and palpable buzz that clearly signaled its inviting, intimate, and spirited allure. My then fiancé and I needed only 24 hours to add San Miguel to our short list of options for our next shared dot on the map.
When we got engaged in 2021, I was living in Southern California, and my bride-to-be was in Querétaro, where her teenager was finishing up at a preferred high school. Once that chapter wrapped up — and since I worked remotely — we decided to shake things up and really live a little. We bought a very old, very charming house in Centro and immersed ourselves in the heart of this ancient treasure trove of beauty, history, tourism, art, culture, and safety. To top it off, there was even a healthy dose of expats, adding a dash of diversity to the mix.
We discovered several new favorite places within days, all just a short stroll from home, like Café Umaran, where we relaxed often over strong coffee, delectable postres, and welcoming conversation offered by its amiable hosts, Lalo and Jazmín, who still warmly and delightfully greet locals and visitors daily. With a strong New York City-honed intuition, I quickly sensed a refreshingly amiable air and genuine camaraderie throughout San Miguel that was consistently present in its ubiquitous eateries, myriad tiendas, colorful boutiques, the Mercado de Artesanías, and perhaps most unmistakably, up and down its hallowed streets and notoriously uneven sidewalks. The incomparably pleasant high-desert climate is yet another accommodating feature of SMA. We felt comfortable, welcomed, and deeply grateful for the opportunity to integrate into this rare and remarkable enclave — where the ancient and the cosmopolitan coexist, generating a uniquely collaborative energy and a tranquil sentido.
You may be wondering what we didn’t love about our grand transition three years ago… I suppose I could add some “balanced” perspective by pointing out the arguably imminent water supply issues, how some gringos overtip and thus “destabilize” the local economy (according to some anyway), that SMA is growing too quickly and isn’t “what it used to be” (Isn’t it funny how some folks say that about wherever they live no matter how long they’ve been there?), that the sidewalks are dangerous and there are too many perros callejeros roaming the streets. If I were inclined to drone on cynically, I might bemoan the frequent off-hours fireworks that scare pets, birds, and some of the same half-empty-glass-thinking transplants who complain about them ad nauseam, and I could even bark that the church bells ring too often, and there are too many parades, festivals, and inconvenient and ill-planned traffic diversions.
I think not… As quickly as my wife and I enjoyed learning the easy and invigorating process of connecting deeply with San Miguel, weaving almost effortlessly into its timeless, vibrant, and multicultural tapestry, we simultaneously learned to apply the very useful age-old skill of ignoring those who seemed addicted to pouring gas on their own fires of negativity. As my mother used to retort, “What is there to complain about?” I am optimistic by nature and realize that my habit of relishing experiences with gratitude vs. harping on their imperfections is not a practice employed by all. I also fully respect everyone’s natural right to feel as unhappy as they wish. I simply choose to focus on the more joyful end of the spectrum. So, even when my wife and I witness one of those less-than-tactful expats — or a visiting, oblivious estadounidense — speaking unnecessarily slowly and loudly to a Mexican waiter, pointing at their desired alimento and compounding the awkwardness by butchering the few Spanish words they know, all while seeming bewildered that the interaction isn’t warmly received, we may cringe a little out of secondhand embarrassment. Still, we’re consistently impressed by the typical poise, savvy, and polite patience locals show in response to such inconsideration. It’s one more reason we love life in San Miguel.
At the end of the day — often marked by a shimmering, glorious sunset viewed from our terraza or from the Puente de Besos (our affectionate nickname for the iconic overpass on Quebrada crossing Canal — ¡no puede cruzar sin besar!), living in San Miguel feels like a gift. And my Mexican wife and I have no intention of looking this gift horse in the mouth.
