The waiter comes over and asks me if I want another beer. I've sat here for hours now, on the roof of this hacienda, watching the revelry unfurl below me. After a wonderful display of skill and showmanship this afternoon, it seems as if the sun is refusing to get off the stage, and the dark clouds above the amber skyline are impatiently trying to hustle the day on towards its whirling and flaming conclusion. Men whistle slowly and gracefully through the air in front of this battle, their legs tied to ropes, slowly unwinding their way to the ground, to the sound of drums and pipes in the square below.

I'm in San Miguel de Allende, on the day the town celebrates its eponymous saint. It's a day for telling the town's history through an almost incomprehensible melange of costume, dance, horses, swordfights, flying voladores, music, and fireworks. I saw the men coming into the town earlier this morning, dragging their horses and children along with them. This is not just a fiesta to enjoy, it's a fiesta to create.

Two elderly and kind eyed ladies catch my eye - they're worried about me sitting there alone with my beer and my book and my view and my thoughts, one step away from pinching my cheeks and fattening me up. After a while, my resolve crumbles to their attention, and I move to their table to hear their story. Canadians, they have lived in Mexico for decades, following husbands who subsequently passed on and left them to it years ago. They tell me about their suppers, the artists that live here and tell their stories and ply their wares at these candlelit events, and the wonderful people that call this place their home. You simply must come back for one, they say. I smile and make the right noises. I will never make the journey back.



The drums and pipes play on in the square. The voladores, having reached the ground, have begun to climb back up their tower for another spin. The sun has admitted defeat, and the hills behind have disappeared into inky blackness. The children race around the square, killing time until they can shoot fireworks at each other in the street.

Karim Meggaro is the editor of Unmapped. He tweets at @KarimMeggaro.