| When dust gives way to cobblestones and a noisy, crazy festival startles the quiet of your afternoon; when you are swept into a song and learn the lyrics (and a language) of a Mexico you’ve just met; when, throat dry and feet numb you stop at the disconcerting beauty of Hacienda de los Santos: welcome.
A saint, says Leonard Cohen, is one who works in chaos, but balances with love. Hacienda de los Santos, or House of Saints, seems then a saintly wonder in this city of music and fiesta and we unravel at its entrance as if children roused from sleep.
Bougainvillea drips from the walls of a courtyard, which, like a secret now shared, opens out onto a pool that’s surface is almost too beautiful to break. Greeted with the tart and sweet Jamaica (hibiscus tea) we stand in the sudden open and look out out to Mount Alamos.
I’ve forgotten that accommodation can, itself, be the destination.
Hacienda de los Santos comprises 27 guestrooms, suites and villas each named for a saint. I think, then, this must be Heaven, for the saints live here – or at the very least visit when we sleep.
Each room has its own soul and is decorated accordingly, but comfort is not forsaken for looks: the bed too comfortable to leave, the bathroom kitted out with things I didn’t know I needed.
There is a theatre too, private dining rooms, and the sense that, even when full, here is always a pocket of peace.
Having been lured out by promises of opera and street music, we return to find the fireplaces in our rooms lit, the pool in our courtyard encircled by candles and sipping tequila (the Murmullo just one of the 400+ tequila collection available at the bar) awaiting us in the Presidential Villa.
“Do you need a gardener?” I ask owner Jim Swickard. He thinks I’m joking, but Alamos both within and without the walls of Hacienda de los Santos has the power to turn tourist into resident and I want to stay a little longer, in this, the House of Saints.
Images courtesy of Hacienda de los Santos.
For more information, contact: www.haciendadelossantos.com.