If Puerto Vallarta Were a Person…

It all started years ago, as a silly conversation I used to have with a friend back in England. We’d be at the pub or out for dinner, and one of us would say something like, “If Paris were a person…” or “Madrid would absolutely be that guy who…”

It became our bit; our schtick. The rest of our mates used to egg us on, getting us to humanise places. It was our dumb but oddly accurate way of explaining cities without listing museums or restaurants.

Places just made more sense to us that way, because they were flawed, charming, inconsistent, and impossible to sum up in bullet points.

A lot like people, really.

So, it came as no surprise that I found myself having that exact conversation again last weekend, on the phone with that very same friend.

“If Puerto Vallarta were a person,” he said, “who would it be?”

The answer came easily. Almost too easily. Like I’d been collecting the details without realising it.

If Puerto Vallarta were a person…

…it wouldn’t introduce itself right away.

It would let you sit down first, offer you something cold to drink, and ask where you’re from. Not because it needs the information, but because it’s genuinely curious, even if it’s heard the same answer a thousand times already.

It understands that first impressions are overrated, and that people reveal more when they’re comfortable.

There’s no rush. It knows you’ll ask all about it eventually.

If Puerto Vallarta were a person…

…it’d be that person who’s been misjudged their entire life.

Most people think they know it because they’ve seen the Instagram version of beach clubs, sunsets, and tequila-lined tables. And sure, those things are real, but that’s not the whole personality. That’s just the outfit it puts on when company comes over.

The real Puerto Vallarta is layered and a little contradictory. It’s quiet when you don’t expect it, and loud when you think it won’t be.

It’s learned to let people believe the easy version first, trusting that the curious ones will stick around long enough to see more.

If Puerto Vallarta were a person…

…it would be someone who wakes up early without an alarm.

By 6 am, it’s already sweeping sidewalks in front of shops that won’t open for hours. Unlocking metal shutters with practised hands. Stretching awake as the sky turns pink behind the mountains.

It likes the mornings best, when the air is cooler and the city belongs to the people who live there, not the ones passing through.

It drinks its coffee standing up. Strong. No foam art required.

If Puerto Vallarta were a person…

…it would be someone who works with their hands.

It would have calloused palms and a sun-creased face, and it would carry its history in its posture. Slightly stooped, but sturdy.

Its hands would tell stories before its mouth ever did. Nicks from knives in small kitchens. Paint under fingernails from jobs that started as favours and turned into livelihoods. The quiet pride of someone who knows the value of showing up every day, whether anyone is watching or not.

It wouldn’t romanticise hard work, but it wouldn’t complain about it either. It knows this is just how things get done.

If Puerto Vallarta were a person…

…it would be adaptable.

It’s a fishing village turned resort town. It’s a jungle turned concrete. It’s tradition negotiating daily with tourism. And it’s learned how to move forward without leaving itself behind.

It knows which parts of itself are flexible, and which are non-negotiable. It repaints the façade, updates the menu, and learns new languages.

Adaptability, for Puerto Vallarta, isn’t about losing shape, because things that matter most don’t get translated or rebranded.

If Puerto Vallarta were a person…

…it would be good at reading the room.

It knows how to talk to tourists, digital nomads, cruise ship day-trippers, and lifelong locals, and it subtly shifts its voice for each one.

Not fake, just practised. Polite when needed, playful when allowed, and guarded when necessary.

It laughs easily, but doesn’t reveal everything at once. Puerto Vallarta has learned that being welcoming doesn’t mean being fully open.

If Puerto Vallarta were a person…

…it would be someone who, if you spent enough time together, would eventually soften.

It would take you somewhere it doesn’t usually take people. A tiny fonda with plastic chairs and a menu written on a whiteboard. A neighbourhood plaza where kids ride bikes in circles until sunset. A panadería that smells of sugar and warm bread and feels untouched by time.

“Don’t rush,” it says. “You’ll miss it.”

If Puerto Vallarta were a person…

…it would be deeply social, but protective of its alone time.

It loves crowds when it chooses them. The festivals, parades, and the fireworks echoing off the bay. The music spilling out of open doors, and the dancing that goes on longer than planned.

But it also knows when to disappear. It slips away up a side street, finds shade under a tree, and watches the ocean quietly instead of posing in front of it. It understands that constant attention can be exhausting, even if it benefits from it.

It doesn’t need to be the centre of the party every night. Sometimes it just wants to sit on the Malecón with a paleta, watching people pass by, quite happy to fade into the background.

If Puerto Vallarta were a person…

…it would be emotionally intuitive.

It knows when someone needs celebration and when they need comfort. It’s held space for joy, grief, reinvention, and escape.

People arrive here after break-ups, burnout, job losses, and identity shifts. Some come running toward something new; others are just trying to rest. So it doesn’t ask too many questions. It simply lets you be whoever you are in that moment.

It doesn’t promise to fix you. It just makes room. And somehow, that’s often enough.

If Puerto Vallarta were a person…

…it would have a complicated relationship with beauty.

It knows it’s attractive, as it’s been told its entire life. But it’s tired of being reduced to how it looks at sunset. It wishes people noticed its scars too. The cracked sidewalks, the flooding during rainy season, and the way growth sometimes hurts.

It would say, “I’m more interesting than my best angles.” And it would be right.

Because this is someone who’s survived change after change without losing their core. Someone who remembers what it was like before the crowds, but also understands why they came. Someone who’s still here, still smiling, and still pulling up a chair without a word.

If Puerto Vallarta were a person…

…it wouldn’t try to impress you.

It wouldn’t rush to show you its best views or list its accomplishments. It wouldn’t mind whether you stayed forever or only for a little while. It would just get on with its day by hanging laundry in the heat, greeting neighbours by name, and letting the sun rise and set as it always has.

And if you happened to walk alongside it for a while, really paying attention and listening more than speaking, you’d notice something.

That it makes people feel held, without ever holding on too tightly. That it gives without demanding. That it teaches you how to slow down, without ever telling you to.

If Puerto Vallarta were a person, it wouldn’t ask you to become someone else. It would just quietly remind you of who you already are. And somehow, without ever meaning to, it would become the kind of place you carry with you.

Long after the phone call ends.

Long after you’ve gone home.

Long after it becomes a cherished friend.