The Music Of San Miguel
Strolling Marichi band in front of the Parroquia de San Migule Arcangel
We’ve been back in the Pacific Northwest for just over a week now, and we’re slowly getting used to being home again.
We’ve actually been spoiled with much better April weather than usual. I checked the 10-day forecast—no rain in sight. Nice for us, but we do need the rain since our snowpack was below normal this year, in some places down as much as 55%. That will definitely affect our reservoirs heading into the dry summer season.
While the Seattle area isn’t anywhere near as warm as San Miguel de Allende (they’re already pushing into the 90s), we’re enjoying mostly sunny days here, with highs climbing into the upper 60s and low 70s later this week.
Still, it’s hard not to think about San Miguel.
One of the things we had no idea about when we arrived was that the city was preparing for its 200th anniversary celebration. We first noticed it on the local buses, all painted with the bicentennial logo, and then the street banners started going up in late February announcing the celebration.
San Miguel de Allende was celebrating 200 years of history, identity, and greatness.
From March 6 through March 30, the city was filled with music, dance, and both national and international performers, all commemorating two centuries of achievements (1826–2026).
Parades, tributes, ballet, tunas, mariachis, orchestras, and artistic performances from Mexico, Latin America, and around the world filled the heart of the city—especially the Jardín, where the main stage and celebrations brought people together night after night. It wasn’t just something to watch—it was something you felt.
And the best part? Every performance was free and open to everyone. It truly felt like the whole city was invited.
Most evenings, after an early dinner, we’d make our way down to the Jardín. The stage would already be set, and rows of chairs would be waiting to be filled. Unfortunately, we were usually just a little too late to grab a chair. But honestly, sitting on the low wall or finding a spot on one of the benches gave us what felt like an almost front-row seat anyway.
The music was always lively, and the crowds were made up mostly of locals and Mexican visitors from surrounding areas. Families, couples, older locals, kids running around—everyone gathered together.
People came ready to settle in for the evening, usually with their favorite food in hand.
One of the most popular was elotes—Mexican street corn.
Fresh sweet corn, sometimes grilled, covered with a generous layer of mayonnaise, Mexican crema, lime juice, chili powder, and topped with cotija cheese. You could get it on the cob or off the cob in a cup—small, medium, or large depending on how committed you were.
On the sweeter side, there was always ice cream from one of the local carts.
Yes, they had the usual flavors, but also ones we rarely see back home—soursop, tamarind, lime, mango, mamey sapote, and my personal favorite, garambullo.
Garambullo is a small red fruit, about the size of a blueberry, that grows on the tree-like cactus often called the Old Man Cactus. Sweet, slightly tart, and something I’ll definitely miss.
The city has an incredibly rich and varied music scene—jazz, blues, cumbia, gypsy jazz, and every kind of traditional Mexican music you can imagine.
Many restaurants, bars, and rooftops have live music most evenings, especially once Friday rolls around and the weekends begin.
More than once, we found ourselves changing plans simply because we heard music coming from down the street. The sound of a trumpet, a guitar, or a full mariachi group drifting through the air has a way of pulling you in.
Sometimes we planned where we were going. Other times, the music decided for us.
But more than the music or the food, what stood out most was the people. People sang along, they hey danced, they smiled. There was such a strong feeling of community, family, and simple happiness.
It’s hard to explain unless you’ve experienced it, but there was a sense that people were genuinely enjoying being together. Not rushed. Not distracted. Just present. That may be one of the biggest things San Miguel gave us. It gave us more than we expected.
And without question—we’ll be back.