Puerto Vallarta: rising star on the Mexican Riviera

Cruise Travel, Sept-Oct, 2005 by Jim Kerr

Hollywood and politics put the Mexican Riviera resort town of Puerto Vallarta on the map, but it was Mother Nature who ultimately guaranteed the development of this west coast retreat into a major vacation destination and cruise-ship port.

A huge bay, Bahia de Banderas, brimming with palm-studded beaches and backed by the Sierra Cuale mountains, arcs from north to south along the Pacific coastline, from a once-isolated fishing village at Punta Mita to the jungly settings of resorts and small towns south of Puerto Vallarta. Nearly 20 miles across, and extending 15 miles west to the sea, the bay is one of the Pacific Ocean's deepest, making it ideal for cruise ships. In 2005, vessels from 18 cruise lines will make more than 250 calls at Puerto Vallarta, anchoring out or docking at one of the most modern, convenient and user-friendly terminals in Mexico.

Well over a million-and-a-half visitors now come to Puerto Vallarta every year seeking luxury hotels, small, secluded resorts, outdoor recreation and adventure, great shopping, fine dining, and an ambiance that, despite rapid growth over the past 30 years, still reflects the friendliness and character of a small Mexican town.

Today, Puerto Vallarta is split into two basic sections, very different from one another: the old town, with its low-rise brick and mortar buildings, colonial flavor, and Malecon waterfront; and the newer strip of high-rise hotels, marinas, modern shopping malls, and nightlife venues, which have sprung up to the north.

"In 1962, there might have been 10,000 people here," remembers Senor Carlos Munguia, an official cronista, or historian, of the city of Puerto Vallarta. "Today, there are about 300,000 people in the city, which did not even have 24-hour electricity until 1958. Then there were three small hotels in town, no paved road to the outside world, and no airline with scheduled service."

Sr. Munguia lives in a breezy, open-air house on Avenida Aquacate, behind a gated front garden in the old Rio Cuale neighborhood. The area, which encompasses roughly 50 square blocks south of the River Cuale, is jammed with cafes, restaurants, shops, hotels, and apartments--several of which front on Playa de los Muertos, the city's most popular beach. The rest of the old town is to the north, across a bridge over the tree-shaded Rio Cuale, anchored by a traditional town square and the Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe Church. When the town celebrated its centennial in 1951, the president of Mexico, Miguel Aleman, who was related to the mayor's wife, came for the festivities, accompanied by an entourage of Mexico City reporters who wrote flattering accounts of the area's blissful setting and tropical amenities. "That was the beginning," said Sr. Munguia. "Then, in 1963, came 'The Movie.'"

"The Movie," a black-and-white film version of Tennessee Williams's play Night of the Iguana, was filmed here over several months in mid 1963. And while the project itself held little interest, the cast of characters supplied plenty of material for the hordes of writers and photographers who followed them to this unlikely and isolated setting. A steamy, evolving romance between the leading man, Richard Burton, and his live-in girlfriend, Elizabeth Taylor, both of whom were then married to others, was the central subject, with award-winning director John Huston and actresses Sue Lyon, Ava Gardner, and Deborah Kerr filling in the blanks. While the film crew camped out on the set at Mismaloya several miles outside town, the cast took up residence in rented homes in the hills of town, and reporters, ultimately bored with the affair, began filing accounts of the area and its bucolic appeal. Sleepy Puerto Vallarta would never be the same.

From my modern digs at the Velas Vallarta resort in the marina district near the airport, the local bus rattles along Avenida Las Palmas, the main north-south thoroughfare, toward downtown. The marina district itself, not far from the cruise-ship terminal, is a phalanx of high-rise luxury hotels and timeshares. On girders hundreds of feet above the ground, welders are assembling even more buildings, which will fill in any remaining open spaces along the blue waterfront. We pass the port, where Carnival Cruise Lines' Carnival Pride occupies one dock, and the Zona Hotelera, where another dozen or more resort properties reside. A number of nightclubs and restaurants appear on the left, as well as a bull-fighting ring and some featureless strip malls, before we reach the narrow one-way streets of the old town. Here, city and tourism officials are trying to cope with traffic and parking, but despite the crowded conditions on some narrow streets, this is the place to be.

I stroll along the Malecon, the long and broad pedestrian waterfront with its inlaid stonework and intriguing metal sculptures: depictions of Neptune, a boy on a seahorse, and many more esoteric creatures. The other side of the street is lined with shops, cafes, ice-cream parlors, and cubical-sized offices where time-share hustlers, forbidden from soliciting on the sidewalk, offer free dinners and tours to any tourist making eye contact. In the evening, the Malecon is alive with local families, young couples, and tourists taking in he cool sea breezes. Street performers entertain audiences at an outdoor theater, and vendors, who have set up dozens of portable stands and bright-colored umbrellas, sell toys, balloons, souvenir trinkets, and street food. The faithful come and go from the Guadalupe Church on the east side of the plaza, while couples stroll or sit on benches around the perimeter. The church is relatively new by Mexican standards, built in 1951, and distinguished by its unusual crown.