Living like locals — in their own homes
MY CHILDHOOD vacations relied on the same unvarnished elements: Fishing poles, campfi res and a cramped tent. Trout for dinner. Possibly for lunch as well.
Thus, perhaps, is explained my adult vacation penchant for ritzy resorts graced by swaying palm trees and strutting peacocks. To me, a vacation constituted a getaway from the familiar. An escape. Therefore, over the course of three decades, I stubbornly refused to consider spending precious vacation time renting anything as mundane as someone else’s home.
Admittedly, the home vacation rental landscape has lapped my expectations along the way, growing into a US$ 100 billion ( RM400 billion) industry. HomeAway, the market’s biggest player, lists more than 1.2 million homes among its various websites.
This spring, I decided to see what we had been missing. A year after visiting Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, we were eager to return. But this time, there would be no resorts. No swim-up bar.
In part, it was a decision of necessity: Our family of five can no longer slyly slip into a standard hotel room. In addition, some relatives wanted to join us for a few days at the week’s end.
If sharing a home would keep us together, save money and simultaneously satisfy my need for getaway adventure, I was all for it. Little did we guess that besides the realised savings, we were in store for adventures and personal connections that are all but impossible to fi nd within the boundaries of the hotel experience.
Relationships were cemented, and we dove more deeply into the country’s culture and its people. As I look back now, the memories seem more vivid, more genuine than usual - particularly those that surfaced from the most humble of the homes we rented.
I designed our home-rental vacation adventure in three segments: An elegant home in Puerto Vallarta’s city centre, a simple beachfront cottage in an isolated village and a fantasy villa overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
Some lingering trepidation haunted me, however, as we parked our rental van in front of the fi rst of the three dwellings.
What if the toilet got clogged? Who could take the place of the hotel staff? What about meals? How would the homes measure up against a hotel stay? Would reality match the promise of the website photos?
The answer to the last of these questions waited behind a pair of heavy, metal- studded wooden doors. A tower peeking above the rock-wall exterior hinted at the proof inside: This constituted more than a home - it was a castle.
Casa de la Torre, it is called, was constructed in 1970 and named for its distinctive threestorey tower. Via email, the property manager had agreed to welcome us - over margaritas, with guacamole and chips, as it turned out.
As we lugged our bags inside and turned a corner, I felt as if we had entered the pages of “The Secret Garden.” Around a rectangular pool in a courtyard, a riot of ferns and flowers in purples, whites and pinks escaped from pots and clambered along the walls. Sago palms stood at attention. Stone angels on the walls kept vigil over all.
More surprises revealed themselves as our exploration continued. A talavera fountain in blue and white. Even more tile in the kitchen, framing modern, stainless- steel appliances. The kitchen, living area and dining room were connected, the patios and garden visible through accordion doors.
Each of the five bedrooms and 5½ bathrooms carried personal touches, among them stainedglass windows, a shower head emerging from a vine-trailing Roman column and a stone face in the guest bathroom that sent a stream of water gushing into a stone basin with the turn of a brass knob.
The second-floor master bedroom provided a glimpse of the Pacific, but it was not until we climbed the tower’s spiral staircase to the third floor that we fully appreciated the castle’s vantage point. From the third- floor patio, we spied dozens of red-tiled roofs marching before us, halting only at the blue crescent of Banderas Bay.
Clearly, this home had architectural appeal. But we had also picked it for location. Situated a few blocks north of the Gringo Gulch area popularised by Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in the 1950s, Casa de la Torre put us right in El Centro (the center, or downtown) of Puerto Vallarta and its cobbled streets, just three blocks from the seaside promenade known as the Malecon. Revived by a major renovation in 2011 that closed it to vehicular traffic, the Malecon represents the city’s beating heart, especially on weekends after dark.
It was where we found ourselves near sundown on our fi rst day, swept along with the current of families, mostly locals, past the street vendors and musicians. Dinner was a quick bite along the boardwalk because we couldn’t wait to get home and into our pool.
Breakfast was part of the package at this dwelling, and the next morning we woke to the faint sounds of Monse, the housekeeper, stirring in the kitchen. She prepared fresh fruit and coffee for us daily, and also assisted a chef in an optional dinner at home one night that, while beautifully presented, was expensive by local standards at about US$ 29 a person, including tip.
The bulk of our meals during this stay in town were drawn from Puerto Vallarta’s vivid and varied street-food scene. I’m beyond fi nicky about street food, particularly in a foreign country, but on a previous trip we had sampled about a dozen spots through Vallarta Eats’ Signature Taco Tour.
We repeated the tour this trip because we liked it so much, but also revisited on our own several well-remembered stands, specialising in pipinghot carnitas, battered fi sh and stewlike beef birria.
At prices ranging from 70 cents to US$ 1 per taco, our family routinely consumed entire meals for less than US$ 20. — WPBloomberg
Admittedly, the home vacation rental landscape has lapped my expectations along the way, growing into a US$100 billion (RM400 billion) industry.