We walked through the storefronts on our last evening as they struggled to manually put away their coolers, heaters, food supplies, chairs, and tables. The same experience is with the tourist shops- full of thousands of items they set out daily, then hours later, they tear it all down, leaving for the night, every night. We heard the footsteps following the final lock on the door click like a shot, echoes bouncing off the walls and stone walkways. Nothing here is quiet when surrounded by all that stone.
We had our last sunset on the malecon/seaside walkway last night, and it was lovely. We had our last breakfast next door a couple of hours ago. I hope that Rosa’s little funeral home can succeed, as well as a couple of other small and thoughtful stores near.
Yesterday (3/31/26), we left for the airport, calling our Uber driver to pick us up. We would be home in another 6 hours from portal to portal.
We left just in time for the Airbnb owners, as construction has already begun on a new bathroom to be connected to the second bedroom. That, in its turn, will become the newer, smaller unit. They will turn this spot into three, possibly four units. Economically smart. The pounding and drilling have already begun, as the only time available for this particular construction guy was during Holy Week, which began the day we left.
They both have interesting stories. This place is already divided into three units from the original home in the 1960s that housed a family with 11 children; one of those 11 now owns one side, and a sister owns the other. Eleven children! Imagine that. But wait…
Moises, the husband of this side’s lucky inheritor, is one of fifteen. When I think of that, and a birthday party, or Christmas/Easter/Passover dinner, it transforms into 26 siblings, and with partners, not even trying to count children – partners – it is 52 immediate family siblings. Pass the chilaquiles, please.
When finished, I think they intend to have made seven units out of the one.
I’ve wrestled with how I feel about leaving. It isn’t as wrenching as Italy was last year, but I think Puerto Vallarta is lovely and worth a visit. I know that the state department suggests PV is at “Danger,” but it is nowhere to be seen, felt, or even suspected.
Safe at night seems to be the prevailing attitude among people walking comfortably around after dusk, and everything inside homes is guarded by strong doors or wrought-iron. The biggest danger for me was trying to walk without stumbling in the dark on the uneven streets and walks.
I will remember lots of music, day and night, everywhere. The small boom boxes are now round loudspeakers that are handheld or attached to the belt. I will remember the beautiful weather – remarkable for being beautiful all the time! I will savor the connection with Lew that comes from uninterrupted time together — we companion well, a surprising gift, given how different we are in so many ways. I will remember those amazing buses, so full of life, with handwritten signage and cracked windshields, their mops strewn about.
The mementos I would take are unnecessary, and the tchotchkes sold in all of the stores have become a multicolored ribbon of stuff, therefore I was unable to select one more than another, so I didn’t. I have a couple of hundred photos.
People work so hard here, and the beautiful children are taught early to show up and lend a hand. What a lesson in raising responsible children. Not much in the way of safety nets or other devices, so they learn early. Remarkable, if somewhat dangerous. I will remember this as one of the homes of our beloved Volkswagons — still alive and running everywhere here. I also have to say that everything blooms here – blooming is what happens all the time, all over. Riots of color.
All in all its been good. Thank you for reading along with me.
Colorado, and woolens, long sleeves, jackets, and pants, here we come!!!
