The Great Escape - to the beach!

I was prepared to spend Easter vacation in my house doing all the things I normally never have enough time to do. But when my boyfriend called me Monday morning to suggest we go to the beach because he had just gotten 2 days off work, I wasn’t difficult to convince. Our bags were packed by the time Manuel arrived at the house, and we were off!

Four hours later we arrive at Bucerìas, about 30 minutes north of Puerto Vallarta. From the roof of our cheap hotel I see the waves crashing in towards the shore and the palm trees waving in the wind. The air feels different. In Guadalajara, the heat is stifling and uncomfortable. Here, the balmy breeze wraps itself around me like a warm lover.

By the beach, street vendors sell ceviche, shrimp and souvenirs. We sit down at a plain restaurant a block away from the beach and order shrimp ceviche (shrimp “cooked” in lime) and aguachile (shrimp “cooked” in a spicy mix of lime, cilantro and cucumber). We watch American tourists and Mexican families, all eager soak up the sunshine. Bucerìas is definitely more low-key and relaxed than the crazy Puerto Vallarta. Although you can find plenty of restaurants that are geared towards Americans, like “Karen’s Beachfront Restaurant” and “Mark’s Bar and Grill”, there are no big resort developments here. The atmosphere is laid-back, and from the beach you have stunning views across Bahìa de Banderas, the seventh largest bay in the world. It might seem a little run down, but it definitely has more of a Mexican feel than the busy tourist centre that Puerto Vallarta has become.

At night, we head to Vallarta. The major highway is packed with traffic. Easter (or Semana Santa as it is called here) is probably the busiest time of the year here. The streets of downtown Vallarta are filled with tourists and cars, and it’s almost impossible to move on the boardwalk “Malecon”. Music is blasting from the clubs, and only in the faint background do you hear the waves crashing. Street vendors sell overpriced coconuts, fruit and handmade jewelry. Fancy boutiques offer traditional handicrafts, and international restaurant chains such as “Hard Rock Café” and “Bubba Gump Shrimp Company” make sure you don’t have to eat a single Mexican meal while you’re here. We walk along the Malecon and see Mayans performing their traditional dance where they “fly” around a tall pole while attached to the top with ropes. As we reach Old Vallarta, the town definitely gets a quieter feel. The cobblestone streets remind us that only a few decades ago, Vallarta was but a small fishing village. But as we turn a corner, we suddenly realize that this more traditional part of the town is also home to some very lively gay clubs. Rainbow flags abound, and inside one of the bars we can see tourists dancing on the bar. We head back to the newer part of town for some huge cheese and beef tacos, and call it a night.

The next day we get up early-ish and drive about 30 minutes north to Destiladeras, a long stretch of relatively undeveloped beach. It’s still pretty early in the morning, and Mexicans are setting up their tables and chairs to offer food and drinks to the tourists who will arrive later. We walk along the beach, passing families and campers, luxury homes and hotels. There’s hardly anybody out so early in the morning, and a feeling of peacefulness fills me. I feel the sand between my toes, and dream about having my own little house right here. On our way back to the car we are stopped by a salesman offering us a free breakfast cruise with open bar if only we come to check out the new resort that is being planned. Turns out that a huge piece of land around the beach has been bought, and apartments and condos will be set up in landscaped gardens. If we return in a couple of years, we probably won’t recognize this beach. The beach where my boyfriend used to play as a child will no longer be public, and will be taken over by American tourists. This is the sad part about coming to Vallarta; seeing that there’s hardly a public beach in the area as everything is owned by resorts, and that most of the resorts aren’t even owned by Mexicans. Americans are completely taking over this area; as tourists, and as restaurant and hotel owners. Mexicans are left working in construction, as hotel staff or

waiters. They are lucky because tourism offers them jobs, but they see little of the wealth that is being created in the area.

In the afternoon, we drive back to Bucerìas to have lunch at Manuel’s uncle’s house. The two little boys are playing with the water hose when we arrive, and the young mother is in the kitchen preparing food. There is some very basic furniture, and a dirty cement floor. They all sleep in a room in the back. In front of the turquoise house there is just a dirt patio. And a banana tree where they pick their own bananas. We climb up on the roof and get coconuts from a tree in the back. Manuel opens the coconuts and we all drink fresh coconut water. In the shade of the banana tree, Manuel’s aunt starts washing some clothes. When his uncle arrives home from work, we sit down to eat shrimp soup with homemade tortillas and fish ceviche. By the time we leave we are completely stuffed, and I have a new family.

We drive south again, and decide to stop in Nuevo Vallarta for a swim. But we soon realize that the beaches in this perfectly developed resort community are all private. We continue through Vallarta and out towards Mismaloya in search of a perfect little beach. But again, all the little coves belong to the hotels clinging to the green hillsides. We finally find a little path leading down to a small sandy stretch, but it’s packed with Mexican families. We jump in the waves, eat some oranges and enjoy the feeling of warm sand beneath our feet. Convinced that there must be more beaches further south, we continue. But we don’t have much luck. Before long, the road starts heading inland and we’re surrounded by jungle covered mountains. Finding a beach shouldn’t be so hard when you’re by the beach…

So we find ourselves back in downtown Vallarta, in a rundown hotel. We stroll along the cobbled streets and the Malecon, and find a busy Italian restaurant in the old part of town. We enjoy delicious pasta and pizza, and try not to think about having to head back to the city the next day.