My move to San Miguel wasn’t about escaping. Mexico isn’t a postcard or an expat fantasy. It’s real life—and sometimes it’s hard. You pay bills in person. You save every receipt. Opening a bank account takes three appointments. Nothing is instant, and nothing is automated. It forces you to show up and participate in your own life.
I didn’t come for easy. I came to live differently. To wake up and walk somewhere beautiful. To shop at the Tuesday market. To be caught off guard by a fireworks display at 4 a.m. or a papier-mâché Judas exploding in the Jardín. Here, you stop asking “why” and just take it all in.
Life in San Miguel has rhythm. Meals last hours. Days stretch long. People walk instead of rush. The beauty isn’t curated—it just happens.
I moved my children here because I wanted them to grow up in a culture that values kids. In Mexico, children are welcome everywhere: at restaurants, in the plaza, on airplanes. They’re expected to take up space, to be part of life. That’s not considered disruptive—it’s essential.
In the States, childhood felt like something shrinking. Screens, schedules, competition for preschool spots before a child is even born. Here, my kids are outside. They’re climbing, swimming, running barefoot, chasing June bugs, making friends in two languages. They’re part of a village.
San Miguel has its own timing. Some people are called to stay, others just pass through. But nobody ends up here by accident.
If San Miguel calls you, listen. And if you need help making it happen, we’re here.
Grace in one hand, tequila in the other.
XOXO,
Madeleine Rose Bell
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