Point South Mexico - Real Estate and Lifestyle Magazine

It was never clear to me as to whether I discovered San Miguel or San Miguel discovered me. That dilemma has played havoc with my mind over a period of 20 years. Each person who resides in San Miguel often has an original narrative as to how they discovered this colonial Mexican town. Twenty years ago, I had been invited to San Miguel by an artist friend of mine. My first impression of San Miguel was because of the mirador or lookout point on the Salida a Queretaro. From this vantage point, one can view the town from above which appeared to be like a misty landscape in a Breugal painting. Multicoloured houses, domed and minaretted cathedrals, twisted cobblestone street, lavender-blossomed jacaranda trees all seemed to melt into the diffused light of the landscape. Lakes, fields and mountains seemed to slip off the horizon. Then and now, it is an enchanted view. My host took me to the 18th century residence of José Mojica, which had been turned into a small luxurious hotel called the Villa Santa Monica. My friend and his wife believed that the Villa Santa Monica was the quintessential location to sip Mexican margaritas before going to the Sierra Nevada Hotel on Hospicio Street to check in for my two-week stay.

Within an hour, that reservation was cancelled as I convinced myself that no hotel could possibly be more charming or delightful than Villa Santa Monica. As luck would have it, a room was procured and t’was here that my San Miguel odyssey spanning two decades began. At breakfast the next morning, I asked my waiter if I could speak to the manager of the hotel about recommending a realtor. In less than what amounted to 24 hours, never having seen any of the town, I had decided to change my domicile from downtown Toronto Cabbage Town to becoming a full-time resident of San Miguel de Allende. This decision fuelled by the knowledge of an almost psychic realization that this town was to become the stage set of my future years. I mention this with a sense of amusement because of the numbers of times I have asked residents the question, “How did you come to San Miguel?” Over the years, I’ve discovered that my instant decision to live here was neither unusual nor surprising. Dozens of people that I subsequently met could lay claim to a similar motivation. The intangible qualities of the charm of San Miguel are profoundly understood by its residents. For any people, be they tourists or residents, the palpable enchantment and beauty of this 16th century colonial town becomes ingrained in their souls.

My San Miguel house-hunting adventure was not an easy task. Above and beyond the bumpy cobblestones and the steep grades of roads up and down the mountain, rarely more than three properties could be shown in one day. In 1990, there were few realtors in the town. Quite by accident, I had made the acquaintance of San Miguel’s oldest (an octogenarian, I believe) realtor, whose name was Martha Campbell. Although I sensed this aggressive old bird was hungry for a sale, she was both too old and infirm to show me any of the houses personally. What she did was wait in the car with her driver and hand me the keys of any of the properties she presumed I was going to buy. This was unorthodox by any standards, but the reality of discovering houses by myself was not unlike a child embarking on a magical mystery tour for one. I couldn’t have enjoyed it more. What transpired after my first day of viewing properties in San Miguel was seeing the genuine disappointment in the realtor’s eyes that I had not decided on the purchase of a house, having seen only three. I admit with a sense of shame, having seen a total of 73 houses shown by multifarious agents, that I still had not decided to buy. One realtor who had become quite exhausted by my inability to make a decision or commitment with soft tears in his eyes asked me the innocent question, “What is it you are looking for?” With a whiff of sarcasm, I responded by saying, “When I see it, I’ll know it.”

As luck would have it, the 74th house seen was shown by a personal friend and not by a realtor. When the door opened at 75 Recreo and my eyes alighted upon a tumbling and tangled 300-year-old garden and a 17th century colonial multi-arched residence, my mind was made up. I might add, and this is true, that the decision to buy this property was made with my feet firmly implanted on the sidewalk outside the house. There are those people who can attest to choosing lifelong companions in a matter of seconds. This is known to all as love at first sight. This instant recognition of seeing the physical showcase for my future destiny was indeed a case of love at first sight. I recall seeing the principal house and grounds that my decision to buy the property was clear and decisive. What I had no idea about at the time was that the property was a virtual compound of houses that stretched from street to street (Recreo to Sollano) over a total of two acres. I was virtually penniless at the time and so the down payment for this house did not exist in my bank account. My mind at this time worked in fast forward and so I was able to conceptually finance the purchase of this house by deciding to sell my Toronto property and virtually all of its contents.