San Miguel delivers more than expected
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 All Along Destinations Get in gear Going Strong Outbound Real deals Sensible traveler Taking Off Where they went
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SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE, Mexico -- So hot. It was so hot under the midday Mexican sun that I needed to sit down. Dry heat, the kind that disappears in the shade or behind a cloud, saps energy, but pleasantly.
In February I discarded my pose of patience in the face of an ugly winter and took the first offer to leave town for someplace hot. San Miguel de Allende, in the high plains of central Mexico, was my parents' idea. They had rented a villa with friends. I joined them without my partner; no one else my age would be coming, either.
My hopes weren't high. San Miguel (www.infosma.com) has no beach, no club scene, and is not on "the circuit" of gay party destinations. But in five days of exploring its galleries, restaurants, and boutiques full of leather, linen, and silver jewelry, I found glimmers of a gay sensibility.
Our villa was an old carriage house on calle San Francisco, two blocks from El Jardin, the city's main plaza, a green square full of trees and park benches. We had a lush open-air courtyard in the middle and three floors of high-ceilinged rooms. A cook and maid employed by the villa's owners also worked for us during our stay, and our only meals out were at dinnertime. But there was no shortage of good restaurants with traditional Mexican, French, and Italian food. The best authentic Mexican we found was at Bugambilia on calle Hidalgo, about two blocks from the Jardin. Eating hot chile rellenos (stuffed chile peppers) and tamales with cold Corona and Negro Modello in a partially covered courtyard of an old colonial house was an ideal way to start a vacation.
I worked out across the street at a gym called Axis, one of several gyms in the city. The gym was hot too (un-air-conditioned) and full of fit-looking women and macho men of all persuasions. San Miguel is not the place to go looking for rainbow flags in the gym or in restaurants, but many of the villas, bed-and-breakfasts, and other places to stay are gay-friendly or gay-owned (look them up on line at www.purpleroofs.com and other websites).
San Miguel, a compact city of walls and churches, does not yield its charms right away. La Parroquia, the pink Gothic church in the town center, faces onto the Jardin. People spend long hours in the Jardin watching the world go by or reading the papers.
Walking is another pleasure in this antique city of cobblestone streets, narrow stone sidewalks, and ornate doors of carved wood, behind which one glimpses courtyards and gardens. There are no traffic lights, paved roads, parking lots, or neon signs; buildings have to conform to colonial style.
I was prepared to read, rest, and even get a little bored, but that was not how things worked out. The culture was a distraction. San Miguel is a famous artists' community, and a great deal of the social life involves attending gallery openings and rooftop cocktail parties at the homes of expatriates, a legion here. We attended three parties given by people my parents' age; they drew a cosmopolitan mix.
Artists started pouring into the city to attend the Instituto Allende, founded in 1938, a Spanish language and art school. The town's influx of Americans began with men who enrolled in the school on the GI Bill after World War II. The school, a large colonial fortress built of stone, has its own galleries, which show local artists' work and that of students and faculty.
At one of the many boutiques near the Jardin, I bought a coral necklace made by artist Bill Harris and got to meet him in the shop as I made the purchase. He and his partner, Howard Haynes, moved here from the Midwest in the late 1980s.
Expatriates or no, San Miguel beats with a Mexican heart. Every September the city celebrates the town's namesake and patron saint with dancing, parades, and a running of bulls through the streets.
Amy Graves can be reached at a--graves@globe.com. Outbound appears the fourth Sunday of each month.
