Life at the Beach in Puerto Vallarta and San Pancho
by Doug Dosdall in North America , Mexico , Gay and Lesbian
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Playa de los Muertos, the gay beach at the South end of town. The palapa restaurants serving this crowd are always the most crowded in Puerto Vallarta.
The boys they like to drink and dance...
or just lounge. |
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I keep being flung between some very different worlds in Mexico. One day I'm in Tepic, staying at the threadbare Hotel California near the bus station, walking about a very working class city and eating tacos on the street. The next night I'm in San Pancho (40 km North of Puerto Vallarta), having a drink at Mar Plata, a restaurant which is one of the most beautifully designed places I've ever seenóevery bit a work of art, from the centuries old floors taken out of Guadalajara homes to the eclectic mix of art. Then on to a party in a multi-million dollar vacation home on the beach owned by a fellow from the Hamptons. There's a band playing under the stars and a release of hundreds of newly hatched baby turtles. Even here the mix continues: San Pancho being a small place, the guests are gringo, Mexican, European; are rich, middle class, working class; are boring, interesting, dedicated to a cause (turtles in this case) or dedicated to getting as wasted as possible. For some reason retirees from Issaquah, Washington seem over-represented and so we leave early. We hear stories of a rather different party which emerges at 3 or 4 a.m. when I've been in my bed for hours.
Puerto Vallarta has been an odd experience for me, this time much more than on previous visits. This is my fifth day. Every second day I'm ready to leave. But on alternate days I'm browsing apartments and real estate listings. There is less a feeling of desperation here than there was in Mazatlanóthe tourism here is very successful. And as such, it's easier to be at ease. There isn't the same feeling that I'm being worked for a buck all the time.
The gay beach (Playa de los Muertos) has its own rhythms. I'm glad to have visited it so early in the season. The city is already much busier than I would've expected (much more so than Mazatlan) but it isn't yet dominated by the package tourist who arrives on Saturday and leaves the following weekendóeach with their colored wrist band from their resort. The changing of the guard we used to call it (or less politelyófresh meat) as a whole new batch arrived on the beach or in the bars. Instead there are lots of locals (gringos and Mexicans) as well as tourists from Mexico City, Guadalajara, etc. Each day at the beach there's been a new crowd to liven things up a little. Sunday was mostly locals. Monday, Halloween, I skipped the beach and instead headed for a solitary beach south of town where I swam to the Los Arcos islets (the archesógiant natural rock arches created the waves). For company there I had tropical fish and manta rays. I've never seen so many manta rays in one place. As I swam under the dark cave-like arch, I was accompanied by 20 or 30 or themóresplendent in black with white polka dots, each 3 to 6 feet wide. Even though they're harmless, it was creepy knowing that a wave or a current could send me directly into them as they didn't seem shy of me and the water was thick with them.
Back at the gay beach, on Tuesday the lesbian cruise ship Olivia arrived and the usually primarily male beach was swimming, literally, with dykes. On Wednesday, a gay African-American cruise arrived (I had no idea this niche existed) and dropped off a very happy crowd. One giant black man, attired from head to toe in pareos (sarongs) including a head wrap stood out with a rather regal (read: big queen) presence. This group was also very appreciative of the 'Latina Turner' drag show later at the Blue Chairs bar.
I feel in with a group of friends on the beachóBrazil, Mexico and Guatemala were their beach names and so I became Canada. It turns out they had only met the day previously so this was easier than remembering their real names. Brazil's heritage turned out to be a fraudulentóhe had the look and the overt sexuality (or was it drunkenness) of a Brazilian (as well as a Brazil swimsuit and pareo) but after he left, Mexico told me that Brazil was also Mexican, like the rest of our crowd (excepting Canada of course). Mexico himself turned out to be a model, whose picture is now popping up everywhere in Mexico as a large campaign for an alcohol brand is launched. His story also represented well the contrasts of Mexicoóhaving gone from having just a couple of hundred bucks to his name a year ago to now living with one of the richest men in Mexico and traveling by private jet. Even in Spanish, gay beach conversations are not particularly substantive; a favorite topic was which clipper settings we each used on what parts of our bodies.
The beach does have it charms. Everyone's on vacation. But then again, everyone's on vacation. And that can get old fast. So I'm looking forward to a little city life next in Guadalajara, Guanajuato and Mexico City. But then again, tomorrow I may be looking at apartments again.
