Puerto Vallarta, Gently

There’s a question I get asked a lot.

“What should I do in Puerto Vallarta?”

Whether it’s friends visiting for the first time, or readers of my blog planning a long-overdue escape, the messages tend to start the same way: “We’re coming to PV next month. Any tips?”

And every time, I have the same instinct. I want to reply with a reminder for people to pause. I don’t want to send a checklist or a ranked list of attractions, but something slower and more thoughtful. Something more in tune with how life really moves here.

Puerto Vallarta isn’t the sort of place that gives itself away in an afternoon. You’ll see the beauty right away, of course, but the real magic? That shows up when you stop trying to chase it.

So here’s what I tell people who ask, and remember, these are suggestions, not prescriptions.

Let your trip unfold. Leave space between the plans. Say yes to small detours. Because Puerto Vallarta doesn’t respond to tight schedules. It responds to curiosity, to kindness, and to people who are willing to slow down and let it in.

Some of the best days I’ve had here have been the slowest ones. A morning walk to nowhere in particular. A morning walk with no destination. A laugh with someone I didn’t know five minutes before. A small neighbourhood celebration I found by accident, just because I took a wrong turn.

If you plan every hour, you leave no room for moments like that. And it’s those little surprises; the things you couldn’t have predicted, that stay with you.

Yes, you’ll want to catch sunsets and eat tacos and maybe hop on a boat or two. But resist the urge to treat the city like a list you need to tick off. Puerto Vallarta isn’t a place to conquer. It’s a place to drift through.

If you’re staying anywhere near the coast (and let’s be honest, most visitors are), try starting your day with the sea.

Walk the Malecón before the sun rises too high. Or wander one of the quieter beachside paths, coffee in hand. There’s something golden about the light here in the early morning; the way it slips through the palms, catches the tops of buildings, and turns the ocean into silver.

You might pass joggers, street sweepers, a couple sharing quiet laughter on a bench. You might hear a rooster or two crowing from somewhere up the hill. You might see a pelican dive for its breakfast.

Whatever the morning brings, it’ll feel like a secret shared just with you. It’s a moment of calm you’ll carry with you the rest of the day.

Puerto Vallarta’s weather has a sense of humour. Mornings often start clear and sunny, and by late afternoon, you might find yourself ducking into a doorway while a warm, dramatic rain sweeps through. So, dress for the day you ‘might’ have.

Bringing a lightweight umbrella or something waterproof, and shoes  that don’t mind a puddle or two, will serve you well. It likely won’t rain for long, but when it does, it can be sudden and serious.

Humidity is also a given, so dress in fabrics that breathe. And pack an extra top if you’re planning to go from beach to tacos to dinner without a break. You’ll thank yourself later.

Zona Romántica is lovely. It’s charming, lively, and full of colour and community. But if you never venture past it, you’re missing half the story.

I always encourage visitors to take a bus (they’re friendly and incredibly affordable) or head north by car for a day or two of exploring.

Each beach town along the coast has its own personality with a different rhythm and feel. And I’ve got a few favourites!

Lo de Marcos is quiet and grounded, which is great for a peaceful beach day. San Pancho has a bit of an artsy, bohemian vibe. Guayabitos feels warm and welcoming in a family-friendly way, full of weekend energy and fresh coconut stands.

You don’t need a tour guide to enjoy these, just time, sunscreen, and the willingness to explore.

One of the great joys of living here? The food. And not just the “Top 10” places on a list, but the hidden gems you find by following the scent of grilled fish or the sight of a small crowd gathered around a cart.

Eat with your eyes, with your nose, and with your instincts.

Some of my favourite meals have come from tiny places with handwritten menus and wobbly plastic chairs. Watch where the locals queue, and don’t be afraid to ask someone what they’re having and order the same.

Try tacos de pescado, tamales, ceviche, and elote. The food here is layered, flavourful, and often incredibly affordable.

And don’t skip the drinks from carts: fresh juices, icy micheladas, or coconuts with a straw poked through the top. They’re delicious, and deeply refreshing.

One of the simplest joys here is just being near the water. Even after all this time, it still catches me off guard. It’s the way the sun flickers across the bay, the rhythm of the waves brushing the shore, and the hush that settles over you when you’re close to the sea.

But if you want to experience the water more fully, there are plenty of ways to do that, too.

You can book a catamaran or a guided trip to one of the more tucked-away beaches like Yelapa or Quimixto. The ride itself is often half the fun. The wind’s in your hair, the pelicans are overhead, and life just feels wide-open.

If you’re feeling a little more spontaneous, just hop on a water taxi from Boca de Tomatlán. It’s easy, it’s affordable, and it gives you that same wide-open feeling as you bounce across the Bay with salt in the air.

Swimming in the sea is its own kind of medicine (though do watch for the occasional jellyfish in summer), but even just wading in up to your ankles as the sun sets is sometimes more than enough. Let the sea show you what you need that day. And react accordingly.

Puerto Vallarta after dark is its own kind of magic. The heat softens, the breeze comes back, and everything seems to glow just a little, from the lanterns strung across patios to candles flickering on tabletops to music curling through the streets like a whispered invitation.

Don’t feel like you have to do it all at night, though. You don’t need tickets or a big plan. Sometimes, a slow dinner under string lights followed by a quiet stroll along the pier is the perfect evening.

If music is what you’re after, you’ll hear it. You’ll hear guitar strings in courtyards, live bands tucked into alleyway bars, someone singing along to an old bolero on a nearby balcony. Let your ears lead the way.

If it’s quiet you want, that’s here too. Find a spot on the sand, take your shoes off, and let your toes sink in while the tide kisses your ankles.

You’re allowed to have soft evenings. In fact, Puerto Vallarta seems to invite them.

Locals here are some of the warmest people I’ve met anywhere, so talk to them. There’s a lightness, a humour, a sense of rhythm that seems stitched into daily life, and if you take a moment to say hola, it almost always leads somewhere lovely.

If you speak a bit of Spanish, use it. Even if it’s imperfect. Especially if it’s imperfect! People appreciate the effort, and you’ll often be met with a smile, a small laugh, or an invitation to keep trying. The more you open up, the more the city does too.

Ask the woman at the fruit stand what’s ripe today. Compliment someone’s dog. Say buenos días to your bus driver. These little exchanges are what anchor you here. They’re what shift you from visitor to something more like a neighbour.

Like anywhere, Puerto Vallarta asks for a bit of awareness. It’s a safe city, especially in the central neighbourhoods, but it’s still smart to be mindful.

Don’t flash your valuables, keep an eye on your drinks, and avoid wandering into unlit areas late at night. And be kind to the place itself.

Use reef-safe sunscreen if you’re swimming. Don’t leave anything behind on the beach that doesn’t belong there. Skip tours that involve animals in captivity or unnatural settings.

And above all, remember, you’re a guest. A very welcome one, I hope, but a guest all the same. Treat the city with care, and it’ll wrap you in warmth and invite you back, again and again and again.

If you remember anything from this post, I hope it’s this. Let Puerto Vallarta be slow.

Let it be gentle. Let it surprise you. Let it change your mind. Let it nudge your plans gently to the side.

Because in a city this full of life; full of colour and kindness and salt air and music. your best memories will almost always be the ones you didn’t plan for.

And if you ever find yourself unsure of what to do? Just walk. Follow the scent of grilled fish. Follow the sound of waves. Follow the shimmer of bougainvillaea climbing a whitewashed wall.

I promise you. It’ll be more than enough.