A Few Exits North

If you had asked me a few years ago whether I’d trade Puerto Vallarta’s vibrant energy for a quieter beach town, I’d have laughed. Puerto Vallarta had woven itself into our lives with its colourful festivals, late-night laughter, and the way the sunsets seemed to set the whole bay on fire.

But sometimes, love takes on a new shape. We found ourselves craving softer mornings and slower afternoons in a place where time feels less urgent and the ocean hums a gentler tune. Insert our recent move to Bucerías.

We didn’t leave because we stopped loving Vallarta. We left to love it differently, with more space, more quiet, and more room for Ollie and Luna to just be.

Ollie, our dignified older pup, has earned the right to stroll through soft grass instead of along concrete and cobblestones. His face is peppered with silver now, and while his spirit is still bright, his legs aren’t quite as fast as they used to be.

Luna, his younger sister and self-appointed mischief-maker, is the exact opposite. Our gal is full of zoomies and boundless energy, and she’s ready to chase every butterfly she sees.

For years, I imagined that if we ever left Puerto Vallarta, it would be for a city. Somewhere with more art galleries, live performances, bookstores, operas, stadiums, late-night jazz, and more ball games we can attend in person instead of catching updates online.

We’ve always loved Vallarta, and still do. But it does have its limitations, especially when it comes to cultural events or the kind of variety that larger cities offer.

So what surprised me wasn’t that we left. It was that we didn’t go toward more, or at least not toward more noise, more stimulation, or more bustle.

The pull was toward something softer. But also, strangely, toward more range, more access, and more freedom.

Bucerías gives us that rare middle ground. It gives us country living for our city hearts.

There’s a quieter rhythm of life here, yes, but with easier access to the things we still crave, like weekend escapes for art, music, and culture, or impromptu beach days in places that used to take hours to reach.

What we landed in wasn’t compromise, it was balance.

Moving is always an adventure (and, let’s be honest, a little chaos). But since we arrived, our days have felt like a slow exhale.

It’s only been a week, so we’re still unfolding into this new life, but we’re already we’re enjoying coffee on the porch in the mornings, while Luna darts after bugs and Ollie finds the sunniest patch of grass for a nap.

Bucerías is easy going and unhurried, but it’s not the sleepy town like people might assume. It just doesn’t shout.

You’ll find locals setting up their stands with fresh fruit slices sprinkled in chili, fishermen repairing their nets near the water, and the scent of tortillas drifting out of corner kitchens.

The beach stretches long and soft, inviting barefoot walks where the only agenda is to breathe in the salty air and let your thoughts wander.

We’re excited to get to know this place on foot rather than through errands or honking cars. That in itself feels like a sort of quiet embrace to hat you didn’t know you needed until you’re all wrapped up in it.

One of the best parts of moving here is how it’s opened up new possibilities.

Before, a trip to Guadalajara from Vallarta felt like a full-on expedition. You had to pack, plan, commit. Now? From Bucerías, Guadalajara is close enough for a day trip. We’re already dreaming of early morning drives where we leave before the city wakes, returning in time for dinner under our mango tree.

Imagine wandering markets, sipping coffee in quiet cafés, exploring plazas while street musicians play nearby, and then coming home to two happy dogs waiting just for you.

That proximity is just one part of why this move makes sense.

We’re adventurers at heart. We’re weekend explorers with a growing list of favourite beaches, backroads, and roadside coconut stands. Now, those places aren’t just trips, they’re neighbours.

We’re suddenly closer to Guayabitos with its colourful umbrellas and beach-town charm, and to Lo de Marcos, where the days feel longer and the sea quieter.

We’re a breezy drive from San Blas, where birds outnumber people and the mangroves feel like a hidden world all their own.

It’s like we’ve opened up a whole new side of the map with our favorite corners just a little closer; a little more reachable. The kinds of adventures that used to require planning now feel like simple decisions.

Ollie and Luna are settling in, too.

Ollie’s always been easy to please. He just needs a patch of sun, a soft place to nap, and a biscuit after dinner. But watching him explore his new backyard, sniffing carefully and easing into his senior dog routine? Well, that’s filling us with so much joy.

Luna has already claimed her zoomie zones and started a tentative truce with the neighbour’s cat who occasionally sneaks into the garden. Our sweet babies are thriving here, and that makes us feel like we made the right move for them, too.

We haven’t started planting the garden yet, but just imagining the possibilities is exciting. Maybe tomatoes. Maybe marigolds. Maybe just a handful of herbs we won’t accidentally kill.

There’s something hopeful about a new patch of earth and the chance to nurture life in a slow, intentional way.

We’re looking forward to afternoons with friends under the mango tree, sharing meals and laughter that stretch into the golden light.

We’re not giving up city life entirely. We’re just rewriting the script.

We want Vallarta and Guadalajara to be visits filled with joy and discovery, not daily routines tangled with stress.

We want to come home to peace. To a yard full of sunshine. To dogs dreaming in the grass. To evenings where the sky melts from blue to pink and we’re not rushing to catch it.

We still haven’t found our favourite tortilla stand or figured out which café makes the best café de olla, but those small quests have become part of the rhythm now.

Every day brings a new discovery, whether that be a quiet stretch of beach with powdered-sugar sand, friendly wave from a neighbour we haven’t met yet, or the perfect mango ripening just outside our bedroom window.

Puerto Vallarta gave us memories, magic, and more street tacos than any human should admit to. But Bucerías? Bucerías gives us something else.

It gives us space. It gives us time to breathe. It gives us slowness and stillness after very long work days.

It gives us the quiet reminder that peace isn’t something you earn, you have to go and find it. And sometimes, it’s just waiting a few exits north, where the mangoes are free and the stars burn a little brighter.