It was ironic though because we almost didn't get the room. It was that the plan in going here was just an abrupt decision and my friend had made plans to come up here because of its charming beauty and rugged hilly countryside. Our plan was totally the last minute decision and we had found out later that all the good hotels in the Old Center were fully occupied, including the Pozada Corazon Bed and Breakfast Hotel, which was initially our first choice.
We were very lucky to get accepted at La Casa Misha B&B which was not too far from the centro, and was just a few brisk walk from the zocalo. It's quite a feat since it was a very busy weekend that time and the place had only two rooms left among the eight rooms they've had. We were extremely lucky to have gotten a nice, spacious, and cozy room, which was also very affordable, and overlooking the belfry of the Baroque inspired coral-colored church of San Miguel de Archangel, near the Centroville.
I slipped out of the La Casa Misha B&B into the chilly morning light. I always wanted to find out why is it that so many people had greatly raved about this charming colonial hilly Northern town and as I wandered along the lonely rugged cobbled streets I've realized that San Miguel de Allende is one of those incessantly proverbial sleepy little Mexican town, which has its own distinct allure and was extremely tacit in this early bright morning, and it hadn't quite come awake yet. Soon, however, I will be wandering into the town square with its little manicured park, interesting shops, and beautiful parish church, which has long become the symbol of this frequently visited northern-hilly town. I love little town squares and as the changing light of the morning had played on the multi-colored walls of the tall buildings around it, I allowed it to slowly seduce me.
After being outside for a while, I returned to La Casa Misha B&B and had a breakfast with my friend. It was a great, huge refreshing breakfast, all homemade and organic. I left so magnificently full that I couldn't believe it. It was very satisfying indeed. Although breakfast was included in the price of the room (it was, after all, a bed and breakfast) but people can just walk in, off the street, and can pay only 150 pesos which is roughly 10 dollars. Our table on the terrace was surrounded with a beautiful lush garden, which was shaded with a large olive tree, and stippled by a three-layered fountain and tiny pieces of intricately carved miniature sculptures of varying sizes and lengths. Along one of the walls, the steeple or spindly spire of the church had perfectly peeked over a blaze of red and pink bougainvillas that had enormously cascaded downward a makeshift wooden arch.
After the breakfast, my friend and I then set outside, freely exploring, all over the town, with him as my able tour guide. He brought me everywhere and anywhere, poking into everything we had uninvitingly stumbled upon, and I enjoyed the raw and spontaneous nature of it, like a free-spirited stranger cheerfully loving every nooks and crannies of this rustic charming place. It was almost a touristic wantonness, just aimlessly wandering about wherever our eyes would immediately laid upon on something and our feet would accidentally take us somewhere - whether into old and vintage hotels to explore lobbies, courtyards, and rooms; or down the myriad little streets and alleys to see this or that, in which all of it always has a good interesting fodder for a traveler's mind and soul. It was a fantastic feeling!
Along one street we found a little scrawny kid running along on the lonely cobbled street, banging excitedly on a rusty iron triangle, signaling everyone to bring out their garbage since the trash truck was not far behind. As if on cue, everyone had stepped out of their doorways and waited patiently on the sidewalk bringing a bursting life to the otherwise deserted streets.
Further on, in Park Juarez near the Iglesia de San Francisco, we came across with five kids whom seemed to be diligently practicing for the local marching band, and not far beyond, a few beat-up artists selling their little colorful creations, most depicting one facet or another of this intriguing town to us. Not long after exiting the park we came upon a public wash area where three middle-aged women, all colorfully dressed, were patiently doing their early morning laundry. There were several of these wash areas which were still in use around the town, as what my dear friend had told me.
Early that Saturday afternoon, we wound up at an organic farmer's market, nestled between the Instituto de Allende and the new Rosewood Artesana Hotel, where you could buy everything from organic fruits, vegetables, breads, and foods (cooked and served on the spot), to organic face cremes, lotions, potholders, ceramic pots, and any number of other things made locally. Judging from the crowd, it was evident that the market is popular among the expat community.
Also popular with the expats was the San Miguel de Allende's art community. My friend knew several expat artists and had told me that many of them who have settled here temporarily and permanently had willingly donated the proceeds of their sales to the local charities. No doubt these artists regale in the almost magical quality of the atmosphere here, and as I looked out at the purple-lushed-crowned Jacaranda trees beautifully dotting the hillsides and the whole town, it seemed as if someone had purposely daubed an imaginary violet brush all over a magnificent urban canvas, just a thing to simply nurture anyone's inner Monet.
San Miguel de Allende had engraved a place in my heart with it's intoxicating quiet surroundings and colorful earthen hued buildings and rugged-durable cobbled streets, as well as it's violet colored Jacaranda trees sporadically spread all over the entire town. How I wish I could be back here again and continue exploring it's captivating innermost bowels for my acute stay here was just an interestingly unforgettable brief one, that I've even wished I could stay for a longer time. Who knows, only time can tell.....
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