Solo Por Uno

"Solo Por Uno" takes you on a small journey through how I embrace solo dining and actually seek it out.

If you met me, you’d quickly learn that I am based in Manhattan. Share an apartment with my big cousin Will. And have a zen corner filled with candles, incense sticks and small chotskis, like a buddha laying in child’s pose, a frog sitting cross-legged in meditation and a collection of yin-yang style pins in a repurposed mezcal glass.

You’d learn that I have been to nearly every coffee shop in the city, not for the coffee but for the wifi. That I’m an avid runner who plans my runs mostly during the sunrise or the sunset. And that I do solo dinners a minimum of once a month… on the 22nd… or as close to it as I can to my birthday number.

A few years back I’d be what you would consider as “nomadic”. Unsure of where I wanted to live and my name free from a lease, I enrolled in night classes at Instituto Allende and chose to move to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. Number one on my personal bucket list was to become fluent in another language, and my family ties to Mexico made Spanish the obvious answer.

On October 2nd, 2021 I ran my first official marathon. Two days prior I moved out of my East Village apartment and by October 18th I moved into my first airbnb in San Miguel de Allende (SMA). Between 6pm and 7pm on Tuesdays and Wednesdays in the University garden, I would sit with my teacher, Roman, who would become my built-in best friend. A 30+ difference in age didn’t affect a tremendous bond, centered around kindness and the art of listening. After class, which was in 95% Spanish and the other 5% google translate, he would most likely give me a restaurant recommendation.

We’d say adios (or “nos vemos”) and off I would go, ready to dine in one of the best food cities in the world. Seriously, San Miguel is aggressively underrated. Travel & Leisure voted it World’s Best City in 2021 and still most people don’t know it.

Slow, tranquil, enchanting, San Miguel is as easy a place to live as any. Upscale restaurants balanced out by tacos that cost only a few pesos (some nights, the cheaper the food, the better). Nearly every night for the first month I would go out and eat alone.

Feeling shy and potentially nervous about the language gap I was constantly working to shrink, it was a toss up on if i’d speak to someone at dinner. Sometimes it was the waiter or the bartender. On rare occasions I would peek my head up from my journal and a conversation would start up naturally with the table next to me. A group of friends, a couple or maybe a fellow solo diner.

Most nights though, it was just me. Me and my journal. My Journal and I. I’d walk into the restaurant and say to the hostess “solo por uno” … only for one.

At my table, I would neatly write away. Highlighting the day. Eager to hold on to the little details that didn’t feel so little. Like the alleyways with art painted on the walls making me feel like I was starring in the movie Coco.

(Photo above: The street of Stirling Dickinson far away from the main square and more so the edge of town. One of the more art-focused streets.)

There was one street near my favorite lunch spot, Tostevere, where each house was painted with a different vibrant color. In my first month of October and early November, ofrendas (bright orange flowers laid out in a ceremonial way to honor those on Dia de los Muertos or Day of the Dead) were everywhere.

(Photo above: Ofrendas lined the street in many shapes and sizes. The city with even more pop of color than usual)

These little details can be captured in photos like you’ll see throughout this very article you read, but my phone couldn’t possibly be out the whole time, nor would I want that. With my eyes up and observing what’s in front of me, I learned that these little details became way more impactful as memories that I can store in my head. Journaling about them engrained it all deeper and deeper so I can dream or have flashbacks about them when I need to be reminded of the peacefulness that San Miguel (and really all of my travels) can offer. Solo dining allowed me to SLOW DOWN and let the best of the best memories leave the brain and enter the physical world through my fingertips via writing/typing .

Once my journaling covered the previous day's events, it’d move off of the past, and more in the present. The food and mezcal hit differently here. The quote tattooed in my brain, “You’re doing this solo, you’re not alone,” repeated nearly evening, reminding me that I didn’t feel lonely in San Miguel. In fact, I felt like I gained a new best friend…me. I had learned more about myself in five months of San Miguel living than I had in 24 years of USA living.

My life had changed. I was less interested in the norm. The path society molds us to take. I wanted adventure. I wanted personal growth. I wanted chance encounters and adrenaline filled days sitting side by side with slow mornings in a coffee shop and evenings underneath the stars.

As we reached the holidays my initial stretch of solo time would end. Favorite moments include the Day of the Dead fireworks show in the main square. That day, I had my face painted and remember being approached during my solo dinner. Tourists were asking to take a photo of my half-painted face. Some wouldn’t even ask and would snap a flick as if I were that same wall-art I mentioned earlier. In a sense, it created a wave of calmness in me. I was truly on my own.

(Photo above: On Dia de Los Muertos there are hundreds of vendors offering face painting, mine was done at La Manuk Galeria where I met my best friends of the trip, Jon and Karen, who I still travel with to this day. Last time I saw them was in Auckland, New Zealand)

Thanksgiving was the first time I had visitors; my brother and his friend Phil. A combination of friends and family followed and the amount of solo dinners on my schedule was cut drastically. I realized I had fallen in love with that solo time. Feeling it taken away helped me to cherish it more than ever during the pockets of time where I didn’t have or at some point didn’t allow any more visitors.

(Photo above: My brother, Phil and I walking through SMA. Thanksgiving 2021)

As much as I loved my visitors, solo dinners brought a level of internal communication that greatly outperforms the wonderful thinking that occurs during shower time, going on a run or laying in bed. My writing and journaling took off, and so did my ability to slow down.

As a society, we eat so quick. It seems like we stay at restaurants only for as long as our food is there. There is minimal “mindful eating” and minimal time to get deep. Solo dinners can change that. Solo dinners have changed that.

I’d like to share a story of my last solo dinner of the trip.It was at a restaurant called San Mezcal. I had been there many times and at this point, Julio and I were close buddies. He pulled off a fancy corn mezcal off the shelf and poured us a glass. One final toast.

It was moments like these that I coined the term “San Miguel Speed”. Moments I sat in for as long as I could. Moments I did not want to end. Moments that I could SLOW DOWN and bring 100% of my presence.

Luckily, the proper way to drink a tequila or a mezcal is to sip, so we sat there for what felt like hours, talking about one of the crazier moments of the trip.

It was my first time at this restaurant, San Mezcal. I was eating alone of course. The table closest to the door, facing the kitchen/bar and my back towards the street. A beautiful stray all-white husky strolled into the open door that is the front entrance of San Mezcal. Relaxed in his temperament, he said hello to me and weaved through the four or five tables that make up the interior of the restaurant. Julio’s partner David, a chef from Canada noticed him and tried to shoo him out politely. Soon, the same thing I had just ordered for an appetizer, this chorizo and pickled veggie dish was being used to tease the dog out.

The dog was smart. It didn’t work and he got the whole appetizer for free. This became the calmest ordeal you’ve ever seen. The chef, now sitting on the floor next to the dog, in between tables of his sold out restaurant, stroking his neck. We could all see it. A sudden bond.

(Photo Above: The interior of San Mezcal with my table in the bottom left.

I kid you not, Chef David took the dog home in the back of his truck that night. A few days later, he got all the paperwork. It was a beautiful moment and the most beautiful stray dog I had ever seen.

All this to say, Julio and I had a lot to toast about. 5+ dinners. Him meeting my friends (shoutout Nislow for buying a bottle of Alipus Mezcal right off the wall), my dad, my sisters and this incredible solo dining experience where his business partner adopted a stray dog.

Fast forward three years and I no longer live in San Miguel. My nomad days are on a hard pause. I keep traveling, but wouldn’t say I “live” anywhere but New York City now. The times when I travel are often with groups of people, so naturally the solo dinners in foreign places occur less frequently. However and without being rude, sometimes when I travel I take a night off from the rest of the gang and do a solo dinner. I did so most recently in Kyoto, Japan back in September 2024.

A big smile crosses my face when I walk into a restaurant and get that question, “Just one?”.

In my mind I think, “Just one? Why are you saying it like it’s a bad thing?”.

I respond in whatever language (but for this example let’s use Spanish) with my pointer finger and say “Si, solo por uno.”

If you’re interested in reading more “Articles” by Samuel Elliot, please subscribe to my substack or find me on LinkedIn as Sam Levin. I’ll be posting frequently on the topics of mindfulness, travel, self-improvement and book reviews.

Written Nov 13th, 2024

Location: New York Public Library

P.S. I know you’re dying for some more photos from San Miguel (and at least one food picture) so here you go!

(Photo above: One of the better breakfast restaurants on the outskirts of the city, right near the street of Stirling Dickinson - Raices Restaurant SMA.)

(Photo above: My mom and step-dad kissing underneath the random firework show. Seriously, it wasn’t a holiday or a weekend night. It was like a random Tuesday. The city is magic.)

(Photo above Roman and I. A sweet soul that absolutely loved to make fun of me in fluent Spanish and shitty English.)

(Photo above: My spot! One of those tacos and a Mexican coca-cola that actually makes you cry from happiness. A foodie’s dream and probably cost 10 cents. I couldn’t tell you the name or even how to get there, you’d have to go to San Miguel with me to try!)

(Photo aboveMy favorite night of the whole trip - Day of the Dead amongst a crowd of thousands. Packed in the main square, we cheered, danced and celebrated those who passed. Alone on the surface, I was completely immersed in the community of San Miguel, my face painted and my eyes straight up at the sky to see the barrage of fireworks.)

If you’re interested in reading more “Articles” by Samuel Elliot, please subscribe to my substack or find me on LinkedIn as Sam Levin. I’ll be posting frequently on the topics of mindfulness, travel, self-improvement and book reviews.