Some writers would have you believe that American tourists and expatriates have taken over San Miguel de Allende, in central Mexico. Read their articles and you'd assume San Miguel has become an English-speaking enclave, a "gringo-landia," with no one but gringos owning every single piece of property, only expatriates sitting on the benches in the Jardín, only loud, arrogant, Mexican-bashing, non-Spanish-speaking Americans eating in the restaurants.

You'd be wrong.

Although it's true that San Miguel de Allende has a fair number of Americans, both tourists and full-time residents, it's still an authentically Mexican town.

Let's look at the numbers. The city government counts 80,000 people in the urban population. At any given time, 11-12,000 of them are foreign residents, approximately 70% American. Some 7,000 expatriates live in San Miguel on permanent resident visas; the rest come on temporary tourist visas.

So what do these numbers mean? If 15% of the people in San Miguel are foreigners (and only 10.5% are American), then 85% of the residents of San Miguel are Mexican. If Americans have "bought every piece of real estate in sight," to quote one prolific anti-San Miguel writer, where are those 68,000 Mexicans in the urban zone living?

The numbers tell the truth. Everywhere you go in San Miguel, the evidence of its "Mexicanness" jumps out and embraces you. It's what brings all those tourists here, after all. The very charms that have made it such a draw to visitors from all over the world--including thousands of Mexicans who come here every year to appreciate the town's unique ambience--are what keep it a Mexican town. It has maintained many long-standing traditions that have all but died out in other parts of the country.

When the conchero dancers come into town and dance for the Virgin of Guadalupe, they are not doing it for the tourists who are photographing them. They are doing it for their faith and their heritage. When the voladores de Papantla climb their high pole in the Jardín, tie themselves to ropes, then spiral slowly and gracefully to earth, they are keeping alive a centuries-old tradition of their fathers and grandfathers.

When thousands of Mexicans from all over the country pour into San Miguel for Semana Santa, one of the high-lights of the annual calendar, it's largely because the traditional processions and celebrations of this holy season have disappeared in the rest of the nation.

Come into the Jardín for the grito of Mexican independence on September 15th, and the square will be tight-packed with an enthusiastic and patriotic crowd--of Mexicans. Watch the sparks shooting from the castillos--traditional fireworks towers--and look around at all the Mexican faces grinning and glowing in the flickering light.

After reading one too many gringo-bashing, "overrun with Americans" articles about San Miguel lately, I grew curious. I decided to take a walk and see just how many foreigners I encountered on the street. I began my walk about six blocks from the Jardín, the heart and soul of San Miguel and the center of tourist activity. I started walking toward the center and began to count who I saw.

The result? On average, I saw 20-25 Mexicans on the street for every obvious foreigner. (If I couldn't be fairly certain if someone was Mexican or foreign--not always an easy guess--I didn't count them.) As I grew closer to the town square, the percentage of foreigners grew, but it never passed more than one in 10-12. I saw Mexican workers and drivers, secretaries and professional men, mothers with kids, elderly grandfathers, teen-agers on cell phones, students with backpacks. I saw deliverymen and shopgirls and business owners, politicians and cops, upper-class ladies doing lunch, maids heading home. And all of them Mexican, going about their lives in a very Mexican town. What I did not see was a single American who was being rude, pushy, arrogant, loud, inconsiderate, or insisting that the Mexicans they passed on the street speak to them in English.

While it's true some foreigners in San Miguel don't speak much Spanish, it's also true that even more do. The dozens of Spanish tutors and classrooms in town are usually full to bursting with gringos trying to wrap their aging expatriate minds around new concepts in language.

They're trying to learn because they must if they want to move comfortably around this Mexican town. The commonly misstated idea that "you will not have to utter one word of Spanish in this town" is not only untrue but unkind to those who come here believing it. It's a fallacy that all Mexicans in San Miguel speak English.

Certainly the smart ones are trying, because it's in their best interests, but most speak little if any English. I'm reminded of a favorite T-shirt I saw on the owner of a popular juice bar near the Jardín: "I don't speak English, but I promise not to laugh at your bad Spanish." From my years of living in San Miguel de Allende, that seems to be a common position and attitude.

The concept of "The Ugly American" tourist isn't new. They've always been with us and perhaps always will. But they've never been in the majority--particularly not in this charming and welcoming town.

My advice to anyone wondering about what San Miguel de Allende is really like is this: come see for yourself. But bring an open and curious mind with you. Because if you expect to find a town full of only Americans then the majority that is Mexican will be invisible to you. If you expect to find only rude, loud, impatient and arrogant Americans, then the one or two you might encounter will be all you'll see. The huge majority of thoughtful, curious, intelligent expatriates, who spend their days intermingling with their Mexican neighbors, who speak Spanish or are trying to learn, who are polite to strangers and helpful to visitors and proud of how they've adapted to their new home and culture, won't register on your field of vision.

But if you really look, with eyes and mind and heart open, you'll see a quintessentially Mexican town that welcomes you with a smile, opens the door to its culture, and beckons you to come and stay. And you may never want to go "home" again--because you'll discover, as I did, that you are home.