Viewed from the towering hilltop statue of El Pipila - a former silver miner and early hero of Mexico's War of Independence - the city of Guanajuato looks like a village assembled from random Lego blocks.

Yet the haphazard palette somehow works, much like the chaotic variety in a wildflower-filled meadow. "Colors in nature," Douglas Coupland wrote, "never clash."

This seems true in Mexico as well.

Guanajuato is known as "Capital del Beso" - "Capital of the Kiss" - based on a local tale about a poor silver miner, a fair maiden and their doomed liaisons. This motto is taken seriously.

A misguided attempt (in 2009, by Guanajuato's mayor) to make public kissing illegal was utterly trounced. ("The outcry was swift. Protesters gathered in front of City Hall to kiss en masse," reported the Chicago Tribune.) So if encountering endless PDA (public displays of affection) bothers you, visit Ciudad Juarez instead.

It is equally impossible to avoid Don Quixote. The gaunt windmill-tilter is celebrated in the town's famous Cervantes Museum, with its exhausting array of paintings, statues, mosaics, books, etc.

It makes sense that such a museum exists - but one has to be a rabid La Mancha fan to make it as far as the second floor. I never figured out Guanajuato's obsession with Cervantes, but, like the kissing thing, one quickly grows fond of it.

The best way to absorb a new town is to spend some time exploring on foot. I strolled across Guanajuato's urban hills, in and out of the cool cathedrals with their grisly crucifixions, among the roasted corn and fruit carts, past paleta stands selling irresistible cucumber-chili popsicles, navigating cobbled streets filled with businessmen in loose suits, teenage girls in tight jeans, kids teasing cats and wandering troupes of beautifully costumed musicians.

The city's energy is infectious and brings out an adolescent glee in everybody. One evening, I found myself joining a small crowd and following a band of street musicians into the city's network of twisty subterranean tunnels. The acoustics were fabulous; the smell not so much.

Many well-known Mexican writers and artists (though not Cervantes) were born here, and a small museum on a rustic street honors the city's most famous son: Diego Rivera. Rivera was born in this sweet little casa on Dec. 8, 1886.

The selection of his works is eclectic, but if you love Rivera as much as I do, you'll find it worth a visit. "The stand-out images ... are the nude drawings of his wife," the website informs us. "Some of the nude drawings of the other women models could be considered very unflattering."

Sounds like Diego didn't get kissed enough.

Jeff Greenwald is the author of several travel books including "Snake Lake."