After a month in our funny little apartment on the roof, it was time to leave San Cristóbal de las Casas and begin the journey towards San Miguel de Allende.

Looking back, the rooftop apartment was one of those places that becomes part of the travel story. It was not luxurious, it was not particularly practical, and climbing up to our little rooftop hideaway every day felt a bit like accessing a secret treehouse — except without the trees and with more concrete. But it was ours for a month, and there was something wonderfully quirky about living above the town with the sounds of San Cristóbal drifting up around us.

We had really enjoyed our time there. The town itself is beautiful, incredibly historic and full of character. The colourful buildings, cobbled streets and old colonial architecture make it the kind of place where you can happily wander without any real plan, which is usually when the best discoveries happen.

And the food — well, the food was excellent. We ate our way through the town, from authentic Indian food to excellent Lebanese dishes and, of course, plenty of fantastic Mexican cuisine. It is always one of the great joys of travelling somewhere for a longer period of time. You move beyond the “what are the famous dishes?” stage and start finding the little places you would never discover on a short visit.

During the day we wandered the streets, explored the markets and soaked up the atmosphere. In the evenings, we retreated back to our little shack on the roof, usually tired, happy and wondering how we had somehow managed to eat another amazing meal when we were sure we could not possibly fit anything else in.

The downside — and there is always a downside — was that San Cristóbal never felt completely comfortable to me. There seemed to be a fair amount of gang activity in the region. Perhaps it is because of its proximity to the Guatemalan border, perhaps it is simply a reality of the area, I really do not know. Plenty of travellers visit and love the place, and we had no actual problems, but personally, I never felt entirely relaxed walking around.

And maybe that is just part of travel. Sometimes a place can be beautiful, fascinating and full of incredible experiences, but something in the background keeps you slightly alert. That little voice quietly saying, “perhaps don’t wander down that dark street at midnight.”

Anyway… it was time to move on.

We packed our bags, headed to the bus station and climbed aboard a local bus for what would become a 16-hour journey to Mexico City, where we would change buses for the final leg to San Miguel de Allende. Total travel time: around 24 hours.

Now, before you judge us too harshly, we had already done a night bus in Mexico. We had travelled from Mérida to San Cristóbal de las Casas on an overnight service and, quite frankly, it had been easy. Comfortable seats, air conditioning, plenty of other travellers and the general feeling that someone somewhere knew what they were doing.

Naturally, this gave us confidence.

Possibly too much confidence.

The problem was we had confused “we survived a night bus” with “we understand Mexican night buses.”

This was not the same thing.

The Mérida to San Cristóbal bus had been a VIP service — the sort of bus where Europeans and tourists travel, with reclining seats, movies, charging points and enough space to believe civilisation still existed.

This bus was different.

This was a cheap local bus. Not because we were trying to be adventurous or prove anything — it was simply the only one available. And there was a very noticeable difference.

We were the only Gringos on board.

The passengers were almost entirely locals, the seats were considerably less luxurious, and the whole experience had a very different feel. Looking back, perhaps the fact that we were about to spend 16 hours travelling overnight on a budget local bus through southern Mexico should have caused us to pause.

But we had travelled across countries on buses before. We had crossed borders, survived questionable roads and slept in some fairly interesting places.

How different could this be?

Right?

Oh, how wrong we were.

The first stop happened about an hour into the journey. Immigration police boarded the bus and selected a number of passengers who were then marched off. Looking out the window, we could see documents being produced, questions being asked and money changing hands.

Eventually, after what felt like a very long time, the passengers returned and we continued north.

Then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

As the journey continued, these stops became almost routine. Each time, passengers were removed from the bus, papers were examined and what appeared to be some form of payment was demanded before they were allowed to continue.

Eventually, we worked out that the people being targeted were mostly nationals from countries further south, travelling through Mexico. We assumed many were likely heading north with the hope of eventually reaching the United States, although we had no idea of their individual circumstances or where their journeys had started.

They were vulnerable, often carrying little more than a bag and their documents, and seemed to be easy targets for officials who knew they were unlikely to argue or challenge what was happening.

The immigration police mostly left the Mexican travellers and us alone.

Until they didn’t.

At one stop, around 2am, the police boarded and demanded that everyone open their hand luggage so they could inspect the contents. This time, we were included.

AP was ordered off the bus along with several others and was “asked” to pay a “fine” of around 200 euros.

Of course, he paid.

There are moments in travel where you decide that arguing is perhaps not the best life choice. Standing in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, surrounded by armed officials is probably one of those moments. Sometimes discretion really is the better part of valour — or at least the better part of keeping your passport.

The journey continued. The stops continued. And the poor passengers from further south continued to have money extracted from them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we rumbled into the main bus station in Mexico City and escaped the confines of the bus. We were tired, slightly rattled and had definitely learned some valuable lessons about night buses and Mexico.

Lesson one: not every travel adventure needs to be created.

Lesson two: sometimes people giving you advice are actually correct.

After finding some much-needed and surprisingly delicious food, we climbed onto our next bus. This time, however, we upgraded. We were on a VIP bus with lounge-style seats, charging points and enough space to remember what comfort felt like.

“You can tell the well-off and the Gringos travel this route,” I muttered to AP.

He just nodded.

Whether he agreed or was simply too exhausted to speak, I am still not sure.

Finally, after 24 hours of rather questionable travel decisions, we arrived at our house rental in San Miguel de Allende.

The house was lovely — a modern pile of sharp corners and concrete floors. It looked stylish, clean and very contemporary.

Unfortunately, it also turned out to have one small design flaw.

It flooded. Completely.

Apparently, somewhere between modern architecture and practical living, someone had forgotten that rain exists.

Still, we settled in and spent the month simply living in this pretty colonial town. We found a great local café, an excellent Italian restaurant and, naturally, another pretty good Lebanese place. Clearly, we had accidentally created a food tour rather than a travel itinerary.

We wandered the cobbled streets, explored the town and visited the main sights, including:

Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel – the stunning pink church that dominates the town square.

El Jardín – the central plaza where locals gather and life seems to revolve around a constant stream of activity.

Fábrica La Aurora – a former textile factory transformed into galleries, studios and creative spaces.

Mercado de Artesanías – packed with colourful crafts, textiles and souvenirs.

El Charco del Ingenio – a beautiful botanical garden and nature reserve on the edge of town.

We also discovered the local supermarket, which was located inside a shopping mall that could easily have been dropped into Arizona. It had the huge parking areas, familiar brands and polished shopping experience that made us briefly wonder if we had accidentally crossed the border.

And then there was the downside…

A Starbucks sitting proudly on the corner of the main square.

Now, there is nothing wrong with Starbucks. For many people, it represents comfort, familiarity and a reliable coffee when travelling. But for us, it summed up what San Miguel had become.

The whole place sometimes felt a little like a town in the southern United States wearing a beautifully restored Mexican colonial costume.

It is a place that works brilliantly for many people. It is comfortable, safe, beautiful and has a large expat community who love it — and I completely understand why.

But for us, it was not quite the Mexico we were looking for.

It was a lovely town.

It was an easy town.

It was a comfortable town.

But travel, for us, has never really been about comfort.

It is about discovering places that feel different, places that challenge you a little, places where you have to look around and think:

“Where on earth are we?”

And that is usually when the adventure begins.

After a month in San Miguel de Allende, a very pleasant month it was time to pack our bags once again and begin the journey back to Mexico City, then onwards to Spain and back to Europe.

San Miguel had been a good stop. We had enjoyed our time there, settled into a comfortable routine, discovered some great food, wandered the beautiful streets and experienced another side of Mexico. It had given us a chance to slow down after the chaos of buses, border stops and constant movement, and sometimes that is exactly what you need when travelling for a longer period.

Would I go back to San Miguel de Allende?

Probably not.

That may sound strange because it is undeniably a beautiful town. The architecture is stunning, the food is excellent, it is easy to navigate, incredibly comfortable and clearly loved by the many expats who have chosen to make it home.

But for us, it was missing something.

Perhaps it was too polished. Perhaps it was too familiar. Perhaps it was simply that feeling you get when somewhere is lovely, but it does not quite spark your curiosity in the way some places do.

Travel is a very personal thing. One person’s perfect destination can be another person’s “yes, it’s nice, but…”

And San Miguel was our “but”.

We were grateful for the experience, grateful for the time we spent there and happy we had seen it for ourselves. After all, that is one of the reasons we travel — not just to find places we love, but to understand the places that perhaps are not quite for us.

So, with our bags packed once again, we said goodbye to San Miguel, caught the bus back to Mexico City and prepared for the next chapter.

Mexico had given us four incredible months of adventure, frustration, laughter, amazing food, questionable transport decisions and plenty of stories to tell.

Now it was time to head back to Europe.