Onwards to San Miguel de Allende south on Hwy. 57. The road is totally forgettable if it weren’t for all the police. Once we turn off Hwy. 57 though the road travels through the local farmland and is much more pleasant.


It’s a quick morning and we are in bumper to bumper traffic in town down steep cobblestone roads. The last time I was here I wasn’t here. Instead I spent the day in a motel on the outskirts of town in bed with some kind of flu. I never did get to see the town, but the ceiling of the motel room was exceptional. Today I feel a lot better and just might see the town if we could find the motel.

We are looking for the Hotel Pasada de San Francisco which is on the main square, not that the police will let us stop and register. They do direct us to motorcycle only parking down the street. That seems to be the only spot left in town. I stay with the bikes as Mike walks to the motel to check on a room.


San Miguel de Allende is a retreat for ex-patriots from the USA. We ran into a couple at the motel in Matehuala and I haven’t been impressed with their attitude so far. The only non-Mexicans I see is town with dogs have Chihuahuas and I almost have to laugh at the cliché. There are as many gringos as natives. This is a little weird and the town is crowded, but beautiful.

Mike comes back to the bike and asks what I think is a reasonable rate for the room. This is an immediate indication that the room is expensive, but he got it anyway. At first the price seemed high, but I was thankful Mike went to the hotel. If I had gone I would have walked away and missed a glorious location for the evening. We are right across the square from the main church, but in the back of the hotel on the top floor. Everything is nearby except for parking.

 

After we unload the bikes we take the bikes to a parking lot that is about 1 mile away, all downhill. Instead of trudging back up the hill to the hotel we hop a local bus for a few cents. Afterwards we take a walk around the town. There are several churches in various state of repair, a market full of produce and flowers whose wonderful aroma knocks us over. I’m at the stage with Mexico where I only worry about the water and will eat produce, salads or whatever. At the market several fruits look interesting and I buy a couple. Don’t ask me what they were, but they were very tasty.


There are small squares throughout every town we visit and San Miguel is no exception. They are a pleasant oasis where you can sit and people watch and just slow down our American ways. Walking down the cobblestone streets the signs are as interesting as the city itself. We also visit the local library where many books are on shelves in open courtyards.

On the way back to the main square we climb onto a small overpass and are stunned by the sunset. Every minute brings deepening hues of red and orange. We are mesmerized and like deer caught in headlights, can’t move. If the sun froze in the sky we would be standing there to this day.

Back at the square I talk Mike into eating dinner at a little restaurant right on the square with open windows where we can eat and watch the town go by. A local musician walks by and we pay him to sing and play guitar. Next door the local police are changing shifts. Most of them are on motorcycles I don’t recognize. On the square are a Nuevo Mariachi Band and several local girls singing holiday music. The lead singer of the Mariachi Band freaks me out and I'm sure I'll have nightmares on the order of a child being scared by clowns. After sitting in the square people watching we walk a few feet back to the motel and end the best day of the trip.