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The Meaning of Vallarta
For gays and lesbians, this is more than a beautiful city, it’s a refuge.
Asking a gay man what Puerto Vallarta means to him is a bit like asking a dog to deconstruct its bark. I learned this the hard – which is to say the good – way, that if you’re gay and you want to live in this incredibly gorgeous, dirty, soulful and corrupt country, Puerto Vallarta is the place.
Nearly four years, ago I took a road-trip through Mexico scouting for a place to study Spanish and hopefully meet a husband. I started in Mexico City (too big and too scary) then drove to Queretaro (clean, quiet and isn’t that aqueduct fabulous?) I was smitten by Morelia (funky and friendly with exotic-looking natives) and loved turning up my gay nose at Leon (once you’ve bought a leather belt, then what?)
Next was Guanajuato. For a gringo looking for the authentic Mexico, this city was like an overflowing bowl of pork pozole: comfort food and I ate it up, moving into a home in a labyrinth of callejones, enrolling in Spanish classes, and learning to eat my tacos with lime and radishes.
But something was still missing: my gay and lesbian brothers and sisters. Guanajuato once had a gay bar, but it went belly-up because people were too frightened to be seen setting foot in the place. Though there was this one brave closeted soul downtown, who had a very discreet rainbow flag sticker in his restaurant window.
The ambience in the private realm was equally stifling. I was lucky to have a boyfriend but after six months of attending his family functions, his mother pulled me aside and asked when I was going to meet a nice woman and start a family. Enough! I needed a place with fewer shadows.
And then I arrived in Puerto Vallarta; where a man can hold his lover’s hand while walking down Olas Altas Street; a place where lesbians can set up house without raising any eyebrows. Three and half years later, my Spanish is still a work in progress and I haven’t found that husband, but whenever I hear visitors say how special Vallarta is, I think to myself, “They don’t know the half of it.”
Rick Martinez is a freelance writer and mortgage loan officer. He recently discovered Facebook and now rarely leaves the house. Reach him at holachi[at]hotmail.com
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