Jennifer Grimwade finds herself mesmerised in Mexico.
This is my kinda place. No list of must-sees, just the chance to savour the enchanting Mexican town of San Miguel de Allende. Hours disappear quickly as you wander the narrow cobbled streets. Meandering up hill and down dale, you pass ancient villas painted sienna, ochre, orange, salmon pink, cream, and a brilliant blue.
Large windows are encased in wrought-iron grids, and huge, carved wooden doors are decorated with beautifully cast door-knockers. Splashes of bougainvillea and clusters of geraniums tumble over the edge of rooftop gardens.
No matter where you are in this 450-year-old town, you can see the pseudo Gothic turrets and spires crowning La Parroquia, the parish church. La Parroquia dominates the zocalo, the town square where Mexicans and visitors always congregate. It is fondly known as Le Jardin and many expats say it was their inspiration to move to San Miguel.
Writer Tony Cohan fell for this old colonial town in a big way. He sold his Los Angeles property, became a resident and wrote On Mexican Time, which critics have compared favourably with Peter Mayle's A Year in Provence.
Sitting on one of the numerous cast-iron benches in the zocalo, I watch a Mexican toddler nibbling a pile of pork crackling covered in chilli sauce.
The man taking a photo of the balloon-seller is oblivious to the couple of cowboys sporting spurs and lassoes riding past. A mariachi band plays alongside the horse and cart loaded with big wooden vats of ice, cooling barrels of home-made ice cream.
As I eavesdrop on Americans telling tales about their maids and the sexual habits of their neighbours, a couple of street kids pester me for a peso, but they have more luck with the Americans.
Just 3 per cent of the town's population of 100,000 are American. Although many are enjoying retirement or studying the arts, they are a lively bunch and well-liked. It's probably why they say Americans retire to Florida to die and to San Miguel to live.
The living is easy. San Miguel was declared a "national monument" in 1926 and it has hardly changed. There are no neon lights, no traffic lights and the traffic even stops to let you pass.
Mexicans with broad-brimmed, high-crowned sombreros have a penchant for driving huge, old yank tanks, invariably with a cracked windscreen and tatty T-shirts doubling as seat covers. These yank tanks dwarf the police squeezed into their VWs.
It's easy to pick the tourists as they drive expensive, imported European cars. Most are rich Mexicans drooling over the plethora of shops, selling goods from all over Mexico, as well as Panama hats from Ecuador and Pashmina shawls from Nepal. After congregating in Le Jardin in the evenings, they adjourn to bars and restaurants, then to clubs ringing with live music.
One of the delights of visiting San Miguel is that it is relatively easy to join the local bandwagon. Within days of our arrival, we were invited to the opening of an excellent exhibition of Salvador Dali lithographs at the Bellas Artes.
Many Mexicans and foreigners study music, dance and the arts at the Bellas Artes, housed in the beautiful old Convento de la Concepcion. Even if you are not a student, a light lunch in the cloistered courtyard listening to the pigeons cooing, and looking at contemporary sculpture is not to be missed.
Students also enrol at the Instituto Allende, housed in a gracious hacienda. Like the Bellas Artes, it offers courses in the arts, as well as Spanish. It also has large noticeboards for those wanting to rent a house or find out what's on in San Miguel.
On Sunday morning I gain a better appreciation of the city when I attend a talk on the street children of San Miguel.
After the talk I join a library fund-raising tour of the houses and gardens of San Miguel. A memorable morning of rags and riches.
The houses and gardens tour culminates at the Casa Harlander. This tiny but beautifully restored house reflects the fine eye of local potter Susanne Harlander. Besides the examples of her work it showcases Mexico's gorgeous tiles and rugs.
Equally exquisite is the hotel Casa de Sierra Nevada. Incorporated in several old houses, this is an interior decorator's dream. It is so close to Le Jardin you can hear the church bells pealing as you wallow in the courtyard swimming pool.
I particularly like staying at La Puertecita Boutique Hotel on the outskirts of town. John Kay, chairman of La Puertecita, says: "We're trying to be as non-hotelish as we can. Perhaps that's why we've been selected in the Times of London's top 100 hotels."
I find it extra special as we have our own kitchen. It is a great opportunity to shop at the local market. I'll never forget the big buckets of blue agapanthus alongside deep red lilies and the old ladies trimming prickles off cactus leaves. Walking back to La Puertecita with a bunch of leeks poking out of my balsa, my brightly coloured shopping bag, I too feel more than comfortable in San Miguel de Allende.
CHECKLIST
Getting there: Take a local bus from Mexico City or fly to Leon Airport. Mexicana Air Pass flights are cheap but must be booked in another country.
Best time to go: At 1900m, the climate is pleasant. The quietest month is May, when it is hot but before the June-to-September rain.
