I remember the first time I landed in Puerto Vallarta. It was one of those picture-perfect afternoons — the kind that travel brochures dream of. The plane banked left and the Pacific shimmered below, kissed by the golden light of late afternoon. The green Sierra Madre mountains cradled the coastline, and the town unfolded like a watercolor painting: terra cotta rooftops, winding cobblestone streets, palms swaying in a salt-tinged breeze.
I didn’t know then that I’d spend the next decade and a half calling this place home. But life has a funny way of unfolding when you follow your gut — and Puerto Vallarta? It got under my skin in the best possible way.
If you’re thinking of moving here, or just curious what day-to-day life really looks like for an expat in this Mexican coastal city, let me pull back the curtain and share the good, the beautiful, the strange, and the not-so-sunny side of living in Vallarta.
When you first arrive, everything feels like magic.
You’re barefoot in the sand by day and sipping margaritas under a palapa by night. The tacos taste better than anything you’ve had in your life. You marvel at how affordable everything feels — a gorgeous two-bedroom apartment for half of what you paid back home, and a plate of freshly grilled fish for a few bucks? Yes, please.
For the first year or two, life is a blur of beach days, jungle hikes, street food discoveries, and spontaneous friendships. You’re wide-eyed and open-hearted. Even doing laundry feels charming when you’re chatting with abuelitas at the lavandería.
And truthfully, Puerto Vallarta is charming. With its rainbow sunsets, cobblestone streets, and old-school buses that still rattle their way through town, it has an authenticity that a lot of coastal resort towns lost long ago.
After a while, the novelty wears off — in the best way. You settle in. You find your favorite tortilla shop. You know which Oxxo has the coldest beer. You make friends with your neighborhood tamale vendor. Life begins to feel more real, less like a vacation.
You stop converting pesos to dollars in your head. You start speaking a little more Spanish (and learning what not to say — trust me, “embarazada” does not mean embarrassed). You get a water delivery guy, a regular barber, maybe even a vet you trust.
For me, the mornings became sacred: walking my dogs along the Río Cuale, sipping coffee from my favorite corner café, catching the early breeze before the sun got too fierce. I worked from home, usually from my little balcony, with parrots squawking in the background and the occasional iguana plopping down onto the tin roof next door.
One of the best things about Vallarta — and something that surprised me — was just how socially open and friendly the place is. It’s hard to feel lonely here. Strangers talk to you in line at the bank. Neighbors bring over plates of tamales at Christmas. Expats form tight-knit bubbles, but they’re often welcoming to newcomers, especially if you show a genuine interest in the culture and the language.
And if you’re part of the LGBTQ+ community? Puerto Vallarta is, hands down, the most inclusive and openly queer-friendly city in Mexico. The Zona Romántica is full of rainbow flags, gay-owned businesses, and nightlife that’s every bit as vibrant as anything you’d find in West Hollywood or Berlin.
But it’s not all party vibes — the queer community here is diverse and multi-generational. You’ll meet retired couples, young digital nomads, artists, HIV activists, and everything in between.
Living in Vallarta is beautiful. But it’s not always easy. Mexico will test your patience — and you either learn to go with the flow, or you’ll end up miserable.
You’ll wait in line at the bank for two hours only to be told you need a copy of your passport and a proof of address. Your Wi-Fi might go out for three days because a truck hit a power line. The gas man might not come. The city might randomly tear up your street for “repairs” and leave it like that for two months.
You learn to live on “Mexican time,” which isn’t so much about being late as it is about surrendering control. At first, it’s maddening. Eventually, it’s liberating.
You also learn to love the small things: mango season, the silence of the city during a big rain, the guy who sharpens knives on his bike riding past every Thursday shouting “afilaaaador!”
When I first moved here, you could live very comfortably on $1,000 USD a month. That’s changed.
Puerto Vallarta’s popularity — especially among remote workers, retirees, and digital nomads — has pushed up prices across the board. Rent has doubled (sometimes tripled) in the past five years. Local families are being priced out of their own neighborhoods. And while it might still be affordable compared to New York or Toronto, the gap between local wages and the cost of living is stark and growing.
If you’re moving here because “it’s cheap,” you might be disappointed. But if you’re moving here because you love the culture, want to learn the language, and are willing to adapt — there’s still a lot of beauty to be had.
This might be the most underrated part of living in Mexico — the healthcare is good. Really good.
I’ve had dental work, minor surgery, and regular checkups done here, all at a fraction of what it would cost back home. You can walk into a pharmacy and get a consultation for 50 pesos. You can see a specialist without waiting months. Many doctors speak English, and there’s a growing network of private hospitals that cater to expats.
That said, it’s wise to have local health insurance, or a plan that covers you internationally. Emergencies can still be expensive, and public hospitals are under-resourced.
People always ask, “But is it safe?”
The short answer: yes, mostly. I’ve never felt unsafe walking home at night in Puerto Vallarta. Petty crime happens — cell phone theft, the occasional pickpocket — but violent crime is rare, especially in tourist and expat zones.
The longer answer: Mexico is a complex country. There are real issues — corruption, organized crime, inequality. But the daily lived experience for most expats in Puerto Vallarta is peaceful, even idyllic. The locals are friendly, the police presence is strong (sometimes overly so), and the vibe is generally tranquilo.
That said, respect the community, don’t act entitled, and stay informed about local happenings. Safety also comes from how you show up in a place, not just where you are.
Living in Puerto Vallarta long-term isn’t just about finding the right apartment or figuring out how to pay your CFE bill. It’s about integration. And that’s where a lot of expats struggle.
If you live in a gringo bubble, only eat at expat-run restaurants, and never learn Spanish — you’ll miss out on the very heart of this city. Vallarta is still, at its core, a Mexican town. And the more you participate in it — the more you learn about its history, celebrate its traditions, shop local, and build relationships — the richer your experience will be.
Some of my closest friends here are locals. Others are expats who’ve been here 20+ years. They all have one thing in common: they love Mexico not just for what it gives them, but for who it allows them to become.
After 15 years, I left Puerto Vallarta.
Not because I stopped loving it, but because it changed — and I changed, too. Overdevelopment crept in. Street vendors gave way to luxury condos. The sleepy beach town I moved to had become something louder, shinier, and harder to recognize.
But that’s the nature of living anywhere long enough: you witness its evolution, and sometimes you realize your chapter there has ended.
Still, Puerto Vallarta gave me more than I could have imagined. It taught me patience. It gave me friendships I’ll cherish forever. It was the backdrop for love stories, heartbreaks, creative bursts, and quiet, ordinary moments that will stay with me for life.
If you’re dreaming of Puerto Vallarta — of sunsets and surf, street tacos and slow mornings — ask yourself why. If it’s for adventure, for connection, for a simpler, sunnier life — you’ll probably love it.
But come with open eyes and an open heart. This place isn’t perfect. It will challenge you. But it might also heal you. It might wake something up in you that you didn’t know was asleep.
Living in Puerto Vallarta as an expat isn’t like being on permanent vacation — it’s real life, with all its quirks and complications. But it’s a beautiful life, if you’re ready to embrace it.
I remember the first time I landed in Puerto Vallarta. It was one of those picture-perfect afternoons — the kind that travel brochures dream of. The plane banked left and the Pacific shimmered below, kissed by the golden light of late afternoon. The green Sierra Madre mountains cradled the coastline, and the town unfolded like a watercolor painting: terra cotta rooftops, winding cobblestone streets, palms swaying in a salt-tinged breeze.
