Photo by Geoff Carter
By Geoff Carter
My wife and I recently spent a month living in the beautiful resort town of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. The city is a virtual paradise, flanked by gorgeous emerald-green mountains to the east and the beautiful Bay of Banderas, dotted with quaint sailboats and fishing craft, to the west. There are miles and miles of beautiful beaches, and, if you venture into the jungle, you’ll find awesome waterfalls and other natural wonders—and the sunsets are remarkable. But this is only a small part of the big picture.
We stayed at a condo in the neighborhood known as Old Vallarta—alias (in the travel brochures) the Romantic Zone. It is on the extreme south side of the city, and although there are a number of new hotels on the beaches there, the neighborhood retains an old-world flavor. Narrow and high sidewalks flank cobblestone streets that host a huge variety of small privately-owned shops and restaurants. Food stands sell delicious enchiladas, ceviche, pastries, and other sundries. The only franchises we saw in our immediate area was a Starbuck’s. There is a McDonalds on the north end of the Malecon, the boardwalk along the shore, and a Costco and a Walmart closer to the airport, but Old Vallarta seems mostly corporately unaffiliated.
Even though we spent a month there, shopping at the local open-air market, fish stores, butcher shops, bakeries, and tortillerias, and even a pulque shop, we felt we only scratched the surface of the local culture. My Spanish is functional, good enough for rudimentary conversations, but I wasn’t fluent enough to ask about the history of the neighborhood or to have in-depth conversations.
My impression was that many of the small businesses seemed to be family run. The mercado was helmed by an affable matron and her daughter. Eula’s, the tiny local bakery, had master bakers, and at least four young people—who bore a striking resemblance to each other—in the kitchen at all times. Another tiny independent candy store was family owned and operated.
One of our favorite curbside food stands was hosted by a wizened old lady who would approach us for our order, relay it to her son—or grandson—at the grill, and then take our money. Most of the shops were in older open-air buildings. The carcineria and pescderia posted prices on hand-printed wall posters or magic marker prices on tiled walls. And the food was incredibly fresh. We would see pick-up trucks loaded with fresh bananas or pineapples coming directly to market from farms only a few miles out of town. The fish was also freshly caught, never frozen, and delicious.
Another, although less pleasing, part of the milieu are the beach vendors. While sitting and drinking beer and enjoying the sight of families sunning and frolicking on the public beach, vendors approached us continually, hawking everything from jewelry to clothing to massages to cigars (weed) to food to art will constantly approach with the hope of making a sale. Although this can be annoying, it is a part of the daily Vallartan life. Like almost anything else, you get used to it.
Old Vallarta is only a tiny part of the city. As you go north into the Marina District and Nuevo Vallarta, monstrously tall new hotels start rising up from the shoreline. Many of the roads are asphalt, not cobblestone, and the smaller storefront establishments have begun to thin out, making way for the larger franchise stores. (Senor Frog’s is everywhere). The Malecon is a mixture of glitzy souvenir shops, bars, restaurants, and the ubiquitous—and tiny—farmacias.
This stretch is also lined with beautifully whimsical sculptures designed by a diverse array of international artists and features beautiful galleries and artisan shops. The iconic church, Parroquia de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe, or Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish, looms over the public square just off the Malecon. Tourists flock to see the beautiful building, and, indeed, a number of souvenir shops flank the mall approaching the entrance to the church. A few vendors sell on the sidewalk directly in front of the church, and one enterprising merchant has a stand next to the exit. Although my religious background is sketchy at best, I couldn’t help recalling the story of Jesus and the cleansing of the Temple. Granted, the merchants weren’t inside the church, but it was a close thing.
The city does seem to be balancing on a razor’s edge between past tradition and monetary survival. Its mainstay industry is tourism—mostly American tourism, which means the shiny sometimes all-inclusive hotels, familiar franchise names, and the overarching need to cater to American culture. Most hospitality workers necessarily speak English because not many Americans speak only English—and not very well at that.
The old traditions and cultural icons are hanging on. Weekly entertainment on the boardwalk includes traditional dances, including the Danza de Los Voladores (Dance of the Flyers), a bi-weekly dance festival at the church plaza, and other traditional entertainments. Yet progress is infringing on the historic heritage of old Mexico. New condominiums are sprouting up all over Old Vallarta, units that will be mostly sold to American and Canadian expatriates.
Our modern building sits on the corner of Constitucion and Venustiado Carranza, the intersection of old and new. To the east, new and ultra-modern condos fill the blocks all the way to the ocean. To the west of Constitucion, old shops and apartment buildings stretch all the way to the mountains.
One of the main streets in the neighborhood, the Basillo Badillo, was being torn up to replace the pipes underneath. As I walked by the piles of cobblestones that had been torn from their beds, I felt sure that the old stone road would be replaced by new and improved asphalt or concrete, and that another emblem of the past would soon disappear. Over the next couple weeks, the laborers worked at replacing the waterlines, and then, I was surprised to see workers fitting new cobblestones onto the new road. This tradition was being preserved.
I was heartened by this and hope that it is an indicator that the powers-that-be in this beautiful coastal city will continue to walk that fine line between the old cultural traditions and the needs of the cruise ship crowd. The souvenir shops selling under the shadow of Our Lady of Guadalupe are on the edge of that paradox, toeing the line between faith, reverence, culture, capitalism, and greed.
The tourists (myself included) come and take their selfies and buy their t-shirts and stay in their luxury hotels. The city accommodates them, feeds them, and entertains them, but still holds them at arms-length. Old Vallarta, at least, has preserved its lifestyle, sensibility, and cultural integrity from the onslaught of corporate interests.
I overheard some turistas complaining about how old and rundown the city seemed and how they would never shop at one of those mercados. Sure. They’re used to Winn-Dixies, Kroger’s, Walmart, and Starbucks. They don’t know what they’re missing.