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 Travel & Outdoors | May 2006 
A Place in the Sun
 Carissa Wright — Summer Arg
The car was in long-term parking at Sea-Tac airport by 5:30 a.m., but the ungodliness of the hour paid off when, by 3 p.m. that same day, I was lying on a sandy beach in Puerto Vallarta, margarita firmly in hand. The towels were deep blue, the margarita was cold and the sun was hot. Paradise.
Two rock outcroppings reached out into the bay to enclose the stretch of sand in front of my hotel. On one, a white tent shielded four massage tables, two of which were occupied by blissfully relaxed hotel patrons. The clear blue sky and the slate-blue water met at the horizon, and the two green-brown ends of the Bay of Banderas curved around to the north and south.
The sun and humidity beat down, and when both became too much for my Pacific Northwest-adjusted body, I retreated to the shade of a palm-thatched hut. When lying around got boring, I jumped into the salty waters of the bay and let the waves pull me toward shore. Vendors on the beach sold wrap dresses, jewelry, hair braids, hammocks, carved wooden statues, ice cream, fresh fruit and anything else they could carry. Calls of “Braids, amiga?” and “Dresses? Necklace? Bracelet?” intruded on my peace, but with a simple “No, gracias” from me, they would move on.
I was in Mexico for one week with my parents and best friend. Though a good portion of the trip was spent in much the same way as that first afternoon, a few enticing adventures were able to pull me away from the equally tempting trashy book and beach towel.
Three days after our arrival, not sunburned yet but definitely wiped out by the constant heat, we bought tickets on a catamaran heading out to the Marietas Islands, about two hours from the Puerto Vallarta marina. The Marietas, the guide aboard the ship informed us, are one of only two places on earth the blue-footed booby can be found in the wild. The Galapagos Islands of Darwinian fame are the only other home to the gull-like bird.
Reaching our destination after two hours of cruising, we circled the islands in search of a place to drop anchor. It took careful examination of the bird-covered islands to spot the boobies’ distinctive powder-blue webbed feet, but spot them we did. Satisfying one objective of the excursion, we shifted our sights to the next.
I’ve been snorkeling before. The last time I was in Mexico some five or six years ago, I actually learned how to scuba dive in addition to sticking my face in the water and breathing through a tube. (Come to think of it, scuba’s not much more than that either.) But it had been a while, and when the time came to trust the little plastic pipe with my essential oxygen intake, my body took a little convincing. Breathing hard and fast, I couldn’t keep my face under for more than a minute or two before I had to surface. Diving was out of the question.
My dad noticed my plight, and the next time I surfaced he told me to stop trying to put my face in, and just breathe for a second. My head out of the water, I breathed through the (by then rather salty) mouthpiece. I felt my breathing slow back under my control, and gave my dad the OK.
Underwater again, but this time looking at the world in front of me, I started noticing things. The sound filling my ears was a constant clicking – thousands of tiny mouths chomping on tinier prey. The guide dove underneath me and surfaced with a blue spotted puffer fish held loosely in his hands. It inflated at the intrusion, and when the guide released it, the fish struggled to swim for the bottom: It couldn’t dive until the air in its body was released.
I swam in silence, away from the rest of the group. Snorkeling in a group, incidentally, is not much fun. Fins fly and hit those following too closely in the face, a single diving swimmer will invariably come up for air directly underneath another swimmer, and the bubbles from an over-enthusiastic kicker make it hard to see.
I came across a school of fish gathered around an outcropping of coral-covered rock. They were as long as my arm, and had bright yellow tails that contrasted sharply with their dark green or grey bodies. My dad had seen them too, and said they were probably yellow-tailed snappers. I followed the school on its aimless journey until I realized that the rest of the group had returned to the boat.
The day’s next adventure began as soon as I returned to the boat. The snorkeling adventure, imperatively a sober one, had ended, but the boat’s open bar on the two-hour cruise back had just begun.
Puerto Vallarta: Getting there
Airfare
Trip Advisor (www.tripadvisor.com) is an online agent that searches multiple flight options from other online sources like Orbitz, Hotwire and Expedia. Flights out of Seattle currently range from $700 to $900, while flights out of Boise and Spokane are slightly higher. Alaska Airlines is for the most part the most affordable and direct (often non-stop) flight out of Seattle or Spokane, though out of Boise, American Airlines currently has them beat. Bear in mind that airfare has a tendency to change without notice or apparent reason, but if the price goes down after you book your flight, you might be able to get a refund from the airline.
Lodging
Puerto Vallarta is divided into zones, with each offering a variety of choices for accommodation. My recommendation: Get a beachfront hotel in the north or south hotel zone. The slightly higher price will be well worth it when you don’t have to cross a four-lane highway to spread out your beach towel, and the location makes for a quick and easy trip into downtown. Hotels in Puerto Vallarta offer both European and all-inclusive plans – a European plan includes only the room, while an all-inclusive plan includes all food and beverages at the resort. Go for the European plan, then get yourself to Gigante (the grocery store) and buy some cereal and fruit for breakfast in the morning. That way, you’ll be able to explore the city without having to come all the way back to your hotel for lunch and dinner.
Transportation
Take the bus. It’s bumpy and crowded, and, all right, not all that glamorous, but it’s four pesos (about 40 cents) and it’ll take you from your hotel’s front door to any destination downtown in less than 15 minutes. Any blue bus that says “Centro” in the front window will get you there. Just be sure not to hop on one that says “Tunel,” lest you end up on the far south end of town, a good distance from where you’d like to be. Downtown is focused on the shorefront Malecon, a mile-long boardwalk, and the city extends back from the bay up the sides of the Sierra Madre mountains. If your destination is farther uphill than you’d like to walk (or you’re not entirely sure where it is), take a taxi. The drivers know the city, and can get you where you’re going (generally) without incident. Taxis are yellow with white roofs, and operate on a regulated charging system based on the city’s zones. Work out a deal with the driver before getting in because not all drivers follow the letter of that particular law.
Stuff to do
Vallarta’s eco-tourism is awesome. The Banderas Bay boat cruises, jungle canopy tours, horseback riding, snorkeling, kayaking and scuba diving are just the beginning. At least one of these diverse tours should be on your itinerary, even if the rest of your trip consists of lying on a beach drinking margaritas. The downtown Malecon with its abundant flea markets, galleries, souvenir shops and jewelry stores is the place for window-shopping or, for that matter, regular shopping. Just make sure any silver you buy is stamped with .925 – this means it’s sterling, and not of a lower quality. Also, don’t pay asking price for anything you buy from a beach or street vendor. Bargaining is expected, just be prepared for a refusal if you try it in an actual store. The restaurants in downtown are excellent, and nearly all offer spectacular views. If you are not a seafood lover, a few days of eating Puerto Vallarta’s astonishingly fresh spread will make you a believer. Lobster, shrimp, red snapper, tuna and crab that was alive and swimming earlier that day will find its tasty way to your plate. |
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