Atención: Interactions. How To Never Find Anything AgainIn San Miguel

By Lisa Babincsak

If you're walking around San Miguel and stumble on a shop you like, here's my advice:

Pin it. Write down the address. Take a photo of the front. Take a photo of the building next to it.

Take a photo of the entire block.

Because if you don't, you will never find it again.

San Miguel is a maze. A beautiful, cobblestoned, flower-covered maze. But still—a maze.

The streets twist and narrow. The alleys fork. Doorways could lead to a candle shop, an art gallery, or your neighbor's living room. Some are open Tuesday, closed Wednesday. Others appear to have no signage at all, just a mysterious wooden door you happened to notice was ajar when you walked by.

Before I moved here, I wandered into a tiny shop with handmade leather bags. Beautiful work. Exactly what I wanted. I told myself I'd come back later with cash. That was three years ago. I have not seen it since.

There's also a courtyard café I once found on a shortcut I took to avoid a parade. The cappuccino was perfect. The garden was magical. Little tables tucked between climbing vines. I have spent two years trying to find it again. I'm starting to wonder if I dreamed it.

Even Google Maps can't save you here. Addresses are more like suggestions. Número 15 might be between 42 and 7. Or there might be three different Número 15s on the same street. The map will tell you to turn left into a wall. And half the time, the shop you're looking for is actually on a parallel street you didn't even know existed.

I've asked locals for help. They nod sympathetically and give directions involving a blue door, a corner with a tree, and a turn at the house with the dog.

So I've learned: if you like something, lock it down. Drop a pin. Write a note. Get photographic evidence. Take witness statements.

Because San Miguel is full of treasures—shops, cafés, galleries—that you might only see once. And if you can't find them again, well… maybe that's part of the charm. Or maybe the city has its own sense of humor.

Regards,

Lisa

Lisa Babincsak is a San Miguel real estate agent, interior designer, and animal rescuer who also writes personal and soulful stories beyond this column