04/26/2026
Landing in Amsterdam, I pressed my face to the window.
Below us, tulip fields stretched in wide stripes of magenta, yellow, and red— cutting across the flat Dutch landscape. A painting you couldn’t fully understand if you were standing inside it.
I’ve been thinking about that image ever since.
A month in Spain. Granada first, then Barcelona. One full of centuries of history, gray stone, and solemn processions, the other electric and alive in every direction.
Both beautiful. Both full.
And still, somewhere in the middle of it all, something came into focus.
How much I love the Idaho mountains. The wide-open sky. The stillness. The rush of the river. The trail underfoot with Mila beside me.
I’ve always known it, but distance has a way of making things unmistakably clear.
But here's the other thing that came into focus, unexpectedly:
My love for San Miguel.
Our family lived there for two years, and I've returned many times since with family and groups. But being away — in Spain, of all places — I kept thinking about it again and again. The color. The culture. The warmth of the people.
Some places don't leave you. They stay tucked inside your heart.
Distance is funny that way. Sometimes it shows you what's broken. But sometimes it shows you, with sudden clarity, what you love.
This October, I'm going backto San Miguel de Allende for Día de Mu***os with a small group of women.
A boutique hacienda. Rooftop yoga, breakfasts together, a home base. From there: markets, hot springs, face painting, processions, altars, the kind of evenings that are hard to explain and impossible to forget.
I know Mexico has been in the news. My friends & colleagues in San Miguel assure me things are the same — still welcoming, walkable, filled with artists & families, and with a spirit that is genuinely hard to find anywhere else.
Just four rooms remain. Early bird pricing closes May 1st.
If something in you has been craving a little distance...this may be for you.