An Unexpected New Year’s… and a Takeaway for the Ages

Before we begin, don’t worry. This is a “New Year’s” story, but not the corny kind. It’s more: new year… same me… just in a different country, trying to emotionally regulate.
Also, full disclosure: this might be my longest article yet. But, again, not to worry. It unfolds like a picture book/Instagram carousel, so you won’t just read about it, you’ll actually get to see what happened, too (part of why it took me so long publish). Okay, are we ready?

Here’s how an unexpected New Year’s became a takeaway for the ages.

What do Rihanna, Adele, and Kelly Clarkson all have in common?

Besides being fabulous and talented, their songs are playing in the café where I’m currently sitting. Why is that significant, you ask?

Because I’m in Mexico.
CENTRAL MEXICO!
(as in, not the super touristy part)

But speaking of things I didn’t expect, like drafting a full article while enjoying my chilequiles con arrachera y café de olla, this trip was one of them.

Yes, if I’m honest, I was running away from a few things:

• An ex who inconveniently pops in and out, leaving let-downs in his wake — now for the third holiday season in a row.
• Medical test results that I wasn’t exactly shocked by… but still saddened me deeply
• And grief. Both my parents passed away right at the start of the holidays, and with them, the traditions that once anchored this season.

You combine all of that and… Deuces. I’m out. Hasta Luego.

So I flew to Mexico.

(Isn’t that where everyone goes when they’re running from something?)

On a whim – as in, the week before Christmas – I got serious about getting out of dodge. I simply wasn’t in the mood to pretend everything was fine because the calendar said so. But nothing was available before Christmas Day unless I wanted to pay an astronomical price or spend nineteen hours traveling, like they got me twisted or something.

So I pushed it to December 27th and decided I’d stay through New Year’s instead, marking my third New Year’s in a different country.

Guess if nothing else, I’m consistent.

My further justification for this wanna-get-away trip that I booked only days before flying out? Honestly… I earned it. And by a series of unexpected blessings from Uncle Sam and a generous Christmas gift (Won’t He do it?!), I didn’t have a reason not to.

A Proper Vacation Felt Appropriate

After a year of building websites, securing business licenses and contractors, setting up systems, working with my first clients under my new brand, and forcing creativity and courage out of myself at a frequency I didn’t even know I had… a proper vacation felt appropriate.

Even if it still took everything in me to fork up the dough I’d been reserving for all of the above… and, you know… basic human needs. Food. Water. Shelter. Cat. I’ve been in this “building and survival mode” where I convinced myself I wasn’t allowed to spend money on joy.

But it’s funny what unwanted emotions will push you to do…

So here I am — day three in San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato — drafting this article during my delightful breakfast at a locals’ spot someone I met yesterday suggested I try. Or rather, one of the locals’ spots she suggested, because my new friend sent me a whole list of her go-tos. Groceries. Coffee. A library. Which might be a good segue into why I feel more confident than ever that if I get my act together, this will be the part of my beloved Mexico that I finally call home. It is, afterall, the main reason I chose San Miguel in the first place. But that’s a story for another day.

Day 1 — Philly

My first day, I met Philly.
(As in a woman from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA.)

We met at breakfast on my first morning. And that’s when my cloudy-day feelings began turning into sunshine. Within minutes, we clicked, and she invited me to join her for a walk later that afternoon to the city square.

Philly helped me ease out of my new-to-San-Miguel shell in a way I’ll always be grateful for. She taught me how to get to and from our hotel using landmarks and hills (because San Miguel is cute, but she will humble you with her inclines and cobblestones). We spent at least an hour in one art gallery — two stories full of pieces I genuinely wanted to bring home… which is saying a lot, because I don’t usually jock art like that. But we also got to bond and share, like long-lost cousins catching up instead of two women who’d just met. Later, we found a spot to eat, rest, and talk even more before heading back toward the square, stopping in a boutique on the way and promising each other we had to come back.

Later, I joined her and her dog (our hotel was dog-friendly, btw) for a night stroll to a nearby park, and by the time I got back to my room, I realized:

I didn’t just “arrive” in San Miguel.
I landed.

Day 2 — Austin (and my Big Three)

The next day, I met Austin.
(As in a woman from Austin, Texas, USA.)

She’s been visiting San Miguel for years, and she finally bought a place here — literally last month — on a quaint and apparently ‘Insta-famous’ street.

We met at lunch in a restaurant my driver recommended, and the book I brought with me caught her attention. We started talking, which led to us sharing why we want to (or already) live in San Miguel, and next thing I knew, she was inviting me to meet her realtor (who she was about to see anyway) and, ultimately, to come by her place.

Y’all don’t understand. For me? This was everything.

A lot of people travel to sightsee and do excursions — and I respect it. But I’m more of an accidental community type of chick.

When I travel, my big three are:

• Eat mind-blowing food. Period.
• Sip incredible coffee while people watching in a perfectly eclectic locals’ café
• Read my book (I bring one every trip) near a warm ocean or a buzzing city center

…but my bonus dream?

Be invited into someone’s home.

This has been my thing forever. It’s the most intimate, authentic way to experience a place, and I’ve loved it for as long as I can remember, which is also why you can’t keep me out of open houses back home. To me, stepping into someone’s home isn’t just “seeing their space.” It’s seeing the rhythm. The real life. The truth, not tourism. That’s way more special for me than a picture in front of a monument or a trip to the museum.

So basically, Austin spoke my travel love language fluently.

She also treated me to my first Turkish coffee experience at a café owned by a couple who had literally opened a week ago. We had a tahini pastry, baklava as I’ve never tasted before (buttery, perfectly sweet, texture like whoa ), and then Turkish Delight. Which, until that moment, I truly thought was a fictional food, exclusive to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I had no idea it was an IRL thing. But, a delight it was indeed.

The Queretaros (and the night I almost skipped)

And then there were the Queretaros.
(As in a family from Querétaro, Guanajuato, MX.)

Moreso, a mother and her son, whom I connected with instantly… but let me set the stage, because this almost didn’t happen.

It was the night of New Year’s Eve, and I did not feel like going out. At all. I even made a video, lowkey talking myself out of it, trying to turn it into some kind of “life lesson” when really I was just tired and trying to stay in my climate-controlled hotel room.

I was pooped from another full day with Austin — hitting up a locals’ marketplace, then running all her errands with her like I lived there and had responsibilities.

So I took it to God. I didn’t have it in me, and I knew if I was going to leave this room, I would need His strength. I said simply, “If it’s in Your will, Father, give me just an ounce of motivation”, then went back to reading my book, cause for-real, for-real, I was not interested. But around 10:30 p.m., I felt the slightest change of heart. I got up. And I got dressed.

(When you plan to wear this…)

(…but you put on this…)

(…and you end up wearing THIS.)

I made my way to the city square, where an outdoor concert was scheduled, and there were already a ton of people…

…but nothing was really going on as the concert had not yet begun. That’s when I made the introduction that shifted the whole night.

The Part I Didn’t See Coming

I’ll spare you the full play-by-play because this night could be its own article. What matters is this:

After one small exchange, Señora Queretaro looked at me and said, gently, sincerely:
“I’ve never seen a girl like you here alone.”

And something about the way she said it landed deep.
Not prying. Not judgmental. Just… seeing me — in a way that both warmed my heart and caught me off guard.

I thanked her. We hugged. I thought that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t.

A few minutes later, she introduced me to her son — and suddenly I wasn’t “alone” anymore. The night unfolded from there in the best way. Easy conversation. Thoughtfulness. Chivalry. The kind of company that makes time move fast and the world feel small.

I was folded into their family for the night. Countdown. Fireworks. Music. Señora Queretaro dancing to every song — Banda, reggaeton, pop, all of it — and between stories and jokes, we joined her.

And around us, the crowd felt just as warm. No macho nonsense. Or too-cool-for-school vibe. No one trying to impress anyone. Just people being people, celebrating life together.

I stayed out with the Queretaros until 3 a.m., which, if you know me, is highly unusual, even for New Year’s Eve. Walking back to my hotel, smiling like a fool, all I could think was: I really almost stayed in my room tonight. Madre mía.

Follow The Nudge

I didn’t come to San Miguel with a plan. I came with feelings. A suitcase. And a quiet little hope that I could feel something besides heaviness… and actually have fun.

But the first night? I scared myself a little.

I checked into my hotel, sat down for dinner in this empty restaurant, and it hit me: My Spanish is rusty. I’m by myself — and I’ll be by myself on New Year’s. The loneliness was loud, fam. And when I realized I didn’t know how I’d turn this trip into joy, I thought I’d made the wrong call.

But I hadn’t. I just couldn’t see how yet.

So I prayed, texted my bestie for moral support, and followed the nudges—

“Book the ticket.”
“Stay at this hotel.”
“Go out tonight.”

—even when my body was like, girl, absolutely not.

And somehow, this week that started with me sitting alone in an empty restaurant ended up so dang full. Full of friends, beauty, laughter. Full of reminders that I can still be surprised. That I can still receive something good, even with grief in the background and my responsibilities staring at me like, “So we just traveling now?”

Here’s what I’m remembering as I step into 2026:
Faith isn’t only for the hard stuff. It’s not just for grief or “God, please get me through.”
Faith is for fun, too.
Not just for survival — but for adventure!

I don’t have to know the how.
I don’t need an itinerary.
I just need to trust that joy isn’t off-limits for me either way — and then follow the nudge.

God will show up. He’ll do what He does.
And yeah…He’ll help you party like it’s 1999.

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