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.

La Parroquia of San Miguel de Allende