On Monday, Oct. 15, 2007, I arrived in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. This is the first stop in what is planned to be a months-long tour of Latin America.
When I told people that I was starting in PuertoVallarta, several people were surprised that I was starting in a resort town. My reasons for starting in Puerto Vallarta are purely logistical--I won´t go into the details.
Before reading my description of Puerto Vallarta, let me just say that I am not a fan of beach resort towns. Convergent evolution tends to make them pretty much all the same. To bring in the most money, they tend to appeal to the lowest common denominator. The general theme is drink, drink, and go to the beach and have a drink. (Drinking is fine, I do my share, but I don't think of it as a lifestyle.) So, most of these towns have beautiful beaches--lined with beachbars blasting music. And the town center usually has an ocean-front promenade--with open air bars blasting music. I'm not a big fan of blasting music unless I am in a dance bar.
I know, I sound like some granola-eating independent travel snob, but that isn't true--I don't eat granola.
When I landed in Puerto Vallarta, I had some taxi difficulties. I will save that for another blog. I arrived in the evening, so that first day I just checked in to my hotel (Hotel Posada Lily) and got a bite to eat. The first thing I did the next day in Puerto Vallarta was walk around the Zona Romantica--the old part of town. It wasn't what I expected from PV--not a lot of cheesy shops and bars. There were some tourist oriented things by the beach, but these did not seem too cheesy.
While walking around, I found a hotel more to my liking (the Hotel Azteca), which was a few blocks further from the beach.
I walked along the beach because, well, I was in a beach resort town--I kinda had to. Playa Olas Atlas andPlaya Muerte are nice enough beaches, and they were not overlycrowded. (It seemed odd that the beach dropped right at the water's edge so that the waves slapped into the shore at times. One got me. Just a little splashed, not drenched.) Lots of beachfront bars with their lounge chairs. Since it was morning, it was pretty dead.Once I left the beach, I didn't feel like I would have the inclination to go back again--not that it was bad or anything. It is said that there are two kinds of people--beach people and mountain people. I've concluded that I'm definitely not a beach person. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy going to the beach now and again, but I am realizing more and more that usually I don't find it to be worth the bother--sand everywhere for days, having to keep an eye on your stuff if you go in the water, slathering on sunscreen, etc. Plus, in the mountains, you never run into swarms of people and bars blasting music so loud that Pete Townsend would ask them to turn it down. You run into very few drunken frat boys on mountain paths. Note that I did not run into any of these things on my morning walk on Olas Atlas beach.
My second day in Puerta Vallarta, I ventured north across the pleasant little river that separates Zona Romantica from Zona Centra. Now THAT was what I was expecting Puerto Vallarta to be like--a clone of every package tour paradise in the world. It came complete with Hard Rock Cafe, Hooters, and, on every other block, a Senor Frog's (Mexico's equivalent of Hard Rock Cafe). I didn't see a Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum.Along the ocean in Zona Centra is a very nice paved promenade dotted with sculptures and coconut palms. That promenade is probably my favorite thing about Puerto Vallarta. Just don't look across the street to the places that practically cry out "Hey, hey! Plastic fun for everyone!" But I have to say, on the several occasions that I walked down the promenade, only once do I recall hearing the bars blasting from across the street.
I spent just over a week in Puerta Vallarta and really did not do very much. During the day, I would go out, get somethingto eat, (sometimes a street stall, sometimes a restaurant) walk around a little, use the internet. What remainedof my time was spent in my hotel room studying Spanish, exercising, or napping. I had had the flu shortly before flying to Mexico, so the rest did me some good after all the hectic travel prep work.
I walked quite a bit through Puerto Vallarta. I wandered way north to where the high-rise mega resorts have sprouted. I wandered through the residencial neighborhoods far from the tourist crowds. I even managed to get lost--which is hard to do when you aren't actually going anywhere. I was lost in the sense that I realized that if I kept going I would end up with a mountain between me and my hotel. I headed back in what I knew to be the right general direction and was guided to the ocean-front by a parasailer rising in the sky above the city like a beacon.On another day, I took a local bus to find the long distance bus terminal. The long distance buses in Mexico are very nice. The local buses are another story, but they do the job. It was a good way to see the town.
I did hang out with a couple of locals in Puerto Vallarta. That was the highlight of the visit. The first was Aender. I met at a coffee shop on Friday night. At his suggestion, we got a couple of cheap local beers at a convenience store and drank them while walking down the promenade, talking. He just moved to PV a month ago. He had been living in Phoenix working in the mortgage industry. (Insert the sound of a bubble popping.) He is originally from near Chihuahua. After the first beer ran out, we got another and continued talking. Eventually, I convinced him to go to a bar--I don't like going to bars by myself, but I wanted to go to at least one while I was there. Both he and someone else that I had asked said that Manana was the best, so we went there.
Manana was a very nice bar. Most of the bar is a big courtyard with a fountain, a stage, and a dance floor. There is also an indoor part. The indoor part is air conditioned, but after a while was hotter than the outside part. It was between 2 and 3am when I got home. I didn't realize that the place stayed open until 8am.
On Sunday night I hung out with Mateo. Over coffee, he told me how he used to be a professional dancer. For 12 years (he is only 30) he danced professionally with a Mexican dance troupe. He did alot of folk dance and flamenco. (Or was it fandango--I always confuse those two.) His troupe went all over, including much of Europe and Canada. Apparently, Mateo got burned out on dancing and decided to take abreak. He is now a massage therapist. He hopes to get back into dance as a choreographer or teacher.
I left Puerto Vallarta on Wednesday. I packed my stuff and hopped on a local bus to the long distance bus station. The local bus was basically an old school bus. I could not put my legs straight in front of me because there was not enough room. I got off the bus a little too early and ended up walking for 10 minutes in the hot sun with my large backpack and my day pack. No big deal. I bought my ticket to Guadalajara and inhaled a hamburger before rushing to the bus. I needn't have bothered scarfing down the burger--I was handed a sandwich as I got on the bus.
The ride from Puerto Vallarta to Guadalahara was very scenic. We went up through the mountains--not the grandest mountains but very pleasant and green. I saw many mountains of the kind that just stick straight up out of flat ground.
When the bus got to Guadalajara I felt a sense of relief. Even from the bus I knew I would feel more comfortable here in a real city. I should have left Puerto Vallarta sooner.
