The Storm’s Past, but Their Struggle Hasn’t

When Hurricane Priscilla recently passed offshore, Puerto Vallarta was spared a direct hit. There were no widespread evacuations, but while the city was lucky in many ways, not everyone has escaped unscathed.

The ocean churned, the surf rose, and the waves pounded the shore with a force that closed beaches, flooded low-lying spots, and pushed daily life to a sudden halt. And among those most affected, but rarely mentioned, are the beach vendors. The men and women who spend their days walking the sands, calling out their offers, and hoping for one more sale to carry them through the day.

Their lives have been disrupted in ways that are serious.

For tourists, a storm surge might mean an unexpected day indoors, time for a movie, a book, or another cocktail under cover. For salaried workers, it might mean a brief inconvenience or an unscheduled day off. But for the vendors who walk the beaches of Puerto Vallarta selling jewelry, snacks, cold mangos, souvenirs, and handmade goods, a single day off means a day without income. There’s no sick pay, no storm leave, and no backup plan.

And for many of these individuals and families, that one day off makes a difference in groceries, rent, diapers, medicine, and all the necessities that come with providing for a family. When the surf rises for them, so does their cost of survival.

If you’ve spent any time on Puerto Vallarta’s shores, you’ve seen them. Maybe they offered you a silver bracelet, a beautiful sarape, grilled shrimp on a skewer, or a handmade clay sculpture. Maybe they made you smile. Maybe you waved them off.

What you may not have seen is that these vendors often wake before sunrise and spend hours walking the sand in the heat. Not for commission or salary, but to earn just enough to make it through the day.

Many are from small communities. Some are indigenous artisans bringing traditional crafts to a global audience. Others are parents trying to support a household in a city where tourism is both a gift and a gamble.

Their work is hard. It’s underappreciated. And it’s entirely dependent on one thing, people showing up. When a storm keeps the beaches empty, or when fear lingers even after the skies clear, that fragile system crumbles fast.

It’s easy to say Puerto Vallarta “got lucky” with Hurricane Priscilla. And in many ways, we did. But there has been loss. In the days following, our beaches have remained quiet. Foot traffic has slowed. Tourists have stayed closer to their hotels, and many locals and residents are understandably avoiding the coastline. That silence, though, means vendors have gone home with little or nothing to show for hours of effort.

And now, as Vallarta begins to bounce back, so do the vendors. They’ve got their smiles on, their shoulders squared, and they’re ready to keep going. Because they have to. But that doesn’t mean they’re not hurting.

One of the hardest things to witness after any disruption like this isn’t just the financial strain on vendors, but the online commentary that often follows. It’s such commentary that’s seen me writing his blog about this particular subject.

Too often, vendors are labeled as “aggravations” or “pests” in forums and social media posts. People complain that they’re “too pushy” or “everywhere.” I saw a comment last night from a woman stating how she’s “loving the no vendors on the beach, and all it took was a storm! Anyone got Mother Nature on sled dial so we can order another one?” I was repulsed by that. Anyone who dared comment negatively against her words was met with an inundation of, “learn how to take a joke,” or “get over it,” or one I genuinely couldn’t wrap my head around, “you know you hate them, too.”

But those vendors? They’re not bothering you. They’re not disrupting your day in paradise. They’re trying to feed their families.

They’re doing what they can with what they have. They have no office, no marketing team, no pay packet waiting at the end of the week. They just have a cooler of drinks, a bag of goods, and a hope that someone says yes.

If you’re not interested? A simple, polite “no gracias” goes a long way. It costs nothing to be kind, and that free kindness is priceless to someone whose entire day depends on it coming from strangers.

Instead of blasting them online for doing their job, perhaps take a moment to remember what they’re up against. Hurricane Priscilla may have moved on, but its effects are still rippling through this community, especially for the most vulnerable.

If you love Vallarta, if this city has ever welcomed you, healed you, wowed you, then this is the time to return the favour. Not with grand gestures, but with small, simple acts of kindness.

Show up. Go to the beach. Take that walk. Don’t let the storm scare you away. The vendors need your presence just as much as your pesos.

Buy something small. Even if you don’t need another bracelet or carving, that small purchase can make someone’s day or even week.

Tip a little more. If someone brings you joy, convenience, or cool refreshment, consider tipping extra. Right now, it matters more than ever.

Practice patience. Some vendors may seem more eager than usual. That’s not aggression, it’s anxiety. It’s the urgency of someone trying to catch up on lost income.

Support local. If you’re choosing between a beach vendor and a chain store, choose the vendor. Your money stays local and goes directly to someone who needs it. Even if you decide you’re not in the mood to buy anything, 20 or so pesos given to the guy selling lace rimmed hand-held fans, or the gal selling birria from a beach front cart, goes an incredibly long way.

And, please, think before you post. Instead of venting frustration online, offer understanding. Let’s stop using our platforms to shame people doing their best. Your words can lift up or tear down, so choose wisely.

For the beach vendors of Puerto Vallarta, recovery isn’t what many of us are used to seeing. There’s no equivalent to FEMA trucks. It’s hoping the weather stays clear. It’s buying enough product to sell tomorrow, even when you didn’t sell today. It’s showing up, again and again, even when the sand still holds the memory of a storm.

So yes, the storm surge is over. The surf has settled. The sun is shining again. But that doesn’t mean everything is back to normal. And the road to recovery for these hardworking vendors is still a long one. Let’s all do our part to make sure they’re not forgotten.