San Miguel con Mike

By Mike Stoltz 

If you read my last two columns, you would know that after a painstaking and thoughtful process of 10 months, I decided to leave the U.S. (California no less, which was difficult). The first story was about my anxiety of “the slow-moving coup,” and the second was in response to some 160 emails from readers who told me, largely, that they have had similar anxieties and concerns. So you finally decide you’re fed up, embarrassed, and not going to participate … where the hell do you go?

It has been exactly eight weeks since I moved to the World Heritage city of San Miguel de Allende. In 2021, Travel and Leisure named it «the most beautiful city in the world.» I confess, it has not been a cake walk by any means and is not for the faint of heart. On the other hand, I’m single, so a partner could greatly reduce the level of stress and workload. 

The three countries I chose when evaluating where to move were based on, but not limited to, (1) stability of its political institutions, (2) security of my assets that I brought, (3) a quality of life that is equal to or exceeds my lifestyle in Southern California, and (4) healthcare for my older family members, should they need it.

I interviewed expats and all consulates and looked at real estate—compound-type properties for my large and extended family—and did this over a 10-month period. My countries and cities, in order of visits, were:

1) Medellin, Colombia

I knew some U.S. expats there and was invited to Bogota, so I explored the capitol, which was one of the most gorgeous cities I’ve ever been to—a great vibe, fantastic weather, and culturally hip, cosmopolitan, and progressive. A broker told me, «The only decision I have to make when I wake up in the morning is whether to wear a long- or short-sleeve shirt.» Healthcare comments were outstanding, as reported by most expats with a mid-60 median age. For me personally, I was a little concerned more about the financial health of the country. It’s still young after a really tough period of autocracy and the Escobar cartel’s ravages. Moreover, it’s too far for my dogs.

2) So on to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, a World Heritage site with authentic colonial architecture and cobblestone streets, and with not a fast-food franchise for miles, nor a neon sign in sight. I would say that San Miguel is the closest we have to a European city on our continent except for Quebec, but San Miguel has much better weather, as did Medellin. On the other hand, San Miguel was more of an art-centric community of writers and artists, and I’m more of a left-brain guy and didn’t really see my «tribe» there. Moreover, I couldn’t find anything I wanted in my price range, and I sure wasn’t going to leave Southern California and my lifestyle there and settle for less. But something I can’t really explain kept me on my tack. What I’ve learned recently is that when you don’t have much in the way of expectations, there can be terrific spurts of glee from the unexpected positive aspects you did not even consider—and I am finding that every day in San Miguel.  

3) I explored my third and final destination about five weeks later. By this time, my house was in escrow in Southern California for over the asking price, and I really thought Manual Antonio, Costa Rica, would be my place to wait out the rough patch that was just an historical wart on the U.S. I’m a beach guy, had been to this «Hawaii meets Malibu 50 years ago” commune twice before. However, this time, for an authentic, core experience, I stayed in the Hyatt in the main downtown area of Quepos just a mile out of Manual Antonio National Park and woke up and looked around and thought, I’m not in my 30s any longer, slamming shots of tequila on a daily bar crawl. I didn’t think I would have the stimulation or culture that I would need. Again, it was too far for my dogs, and my mother would not be happy with the heat and no access to a slot machine. Funny, as I write this to you, I guess I did have «expectations» that Manual Antonio would save the day. I was feeling a little low and disappointed.  

BUT I have five days remaining on this leg. My house in Palm Springs closes in one week! Where am I gonna live?

So, I went back to San Miguel de Allende. I was only there for a week two months prior, and I did have COVID. This time, upon my return, Doug, my broker who is also a jazz musician (and I’m a fan), invited me to a cancer fund raiser in Los Senderos, a pristine, expansive gated community with breathtaking vistas, perfect microclimate, and a whole lot of American and Canadian expats groovin’ to the sounds of jazz and jazz standards with Prosecco flowing from plastic tumblers and a good deal of facial reconstruction. Coming from Palm Springs as a part-time resident there, I was very much at home, so I gave it another look. 

I ultimately bought in the gated community of Vista Antigua, which, because of an unusually large lot, allowed me to build a pool and a guest house which represents, in cost, approximately 25 percent of what I’d spend in Southern California. Doug referred me to Karenina, a 30 something single mother/architect. If this chica was unleashed, I’m convinced that with her razor-sharp design intuition, she’d be one of Mexico’s greatest architects. In eight weeks, I’ve met at least a dozen people from the Coachella Valley, where I had a second home, and half of them are familiar with my California restaurants. I took a picture of a Springer Spaniel in front of one of my restaurants four years ago in Palm Springs because she was the spitting image of my pup, Henry. That pup, Fiona, and her servant, Ron, now live in the villa six lots from me. I know I’m just at the tip of the iceberg, so stay tuned for more of my discoveries of six degrees of separation in San Miguel de Allende.