Under San Miguel's Spell

In Mexico's Storied Colonial Outpost, the Past Is Present

The church bells don't ring on the hour in San Miguel de Allende. At 4:45 a.m., the clock tower struck five loud peals. At 5:15, another five. At 7:15, when I finally roused myself once and for all, the bells rang 18 times. Dong. Dong. Dong.

A solid night's sleep doesn't come easily in San Miguel de Allende, four hours north of Mexico City. Along with the bells, there are the firecrackers that ring out at unscheduled intervals throughout the night.

No colorful displays, just short pops, like gunfire. And each weekday morning, at about 8, school marching bands prowl the streets blaring assorted attempts at the Mexican anthem.

But then, sleeping is a waste of time in San Miguel. The colonial town is filled with restaurants, irresistible shopping, cooking, drawing and yoga classes and, when you're finally worn out, delicious spa treatments -- all for half of what you pay north of the border. All this, plus year-round sunshine, make an idyllic holiday for the curious, adventurous or easily bored.

San Miguel's buzz of activity is due in part to the community's estimated 10,000 gringos -- mostly retired -- who have settled here. If you can call them settled. They're an adventurous, artistic, energetic bunch. Ingrid Wild, a German who led us on a Sunday House and Garden Tour, spent 20 years in Phoenix before settling here, but she still spends five or six months each year on the road.

Our tour was small, Wild informed us. It was May, the low season, so there were just 50 people on three buses. In February and March, when Americans pour into San Miguel for its springtime temperatures, sometimes 350 people show up. One peek behind the doors of San Miguel and you can understand why so many Americans never go home. The houses, painted shades of dusty rose, terra cotta and gold and festooned with stone carvings, are sights to behold. Casa Kempe, four blocks from the town center, dates to 1730 and was originally the parsonage for a nearby church, which blessed (and regulated) the town's water supply. Casa Feliz, 20 minutes from town, is brand new and straight out of House Beautiful.

We entered through a tiny door into a courtyard dotted with frangipani and lily ponds. The living room, with a palette of ivory and pale greens, opened to the courtyard through sliding glass doors and to the sun through several skylights. The house also sported a separate basement apartment and an enormous roof deck with views of the town and San Miguel valley. Cost: $160,000.

My friend Megan and I liked no house better than our own temporary abode, Casa Schuck, a former hacienda turned bed-and-breakfast run by Susan Cordelli and Charles "Chuck" Easter. Casa Schuck was originally the home of Susan's grandparents Gladys and Charles Schuck, who settled in San Miguel in the 1940s. The terra-cotta mansion has six rooms, each painted a vivid Mexican shade. Our favorite, the Jacaranda Room, had walls of brilliant vermilion, with a view of the pool and gardens and a small terrace overlooking San Miguel's skyline. Best of all was the enormous bathroom, which sported baroque gold fixtures and hand-painted blue and white tiles.

San Miguel is undoubtedly geared for tourists. Where else in Mexico can you drink the water in every restaurant? But colonial Mexico still thrives. No neon signs or modern architecture here. Today's San Miguel is much like it was 300 years ago, when the town served as a vibrant trading post on the main route from the (still-operating) silver mines of Zacatecas. The steep, cobbled streets are lined with brightly colored cantinas and grand villas decked with intricate stonework, wrought-iron balconies, hanging lanterns and elaborate door knockers.

Traditions are well preserved. Throughout the day, we heard loud clanging -- an angry xylophonist meets the Good Humor truck -- which turned out to be the garbagemen. Since trucks can't fit through the narrow streets, the city's sanitation workers ring a bell to alert people to come to a designated intersection.

Each evening, the Jardin, the town's main square, is filled with locals -- families, lovers and teenagers who spontaneously break into salsa or merengue. And almost no one speaks English. The economy may depend on the almighty dollar, but in everywhere but the best hotels, locals happily allowed us to put our phrasebook Spanish to use.

San Miguel is not so perfectly preserved by chance. In 1926, it was declared a national monument, thanks to its role in the Mexican War of Independence. Local son and revolutionary hero Ignacio Allende joined the rebel forces in 1810 and led the army to several victories against the Spanish before he was captured and beheaded in 1811. Fifteen years later, the town, then known as San Miguel el Grande, was renamed in his honor.