This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Branden James, a 47-year-old musician who has spent the last 10 winters in Puerto Vallarta. It has been edited for length and clarity.
Yesterday morning, my husband and I were sitting in bed, looking out the windows, when we suddenly saw what looked like a fast-moving cloud across the sky. At first, I thought it was a rainstorm coming, but when I opened the window properly, I could see it was smoke — tons of it.
With the window open, we could hear explosions erupting into plumes of smoke across the beautiful, historic district of Puerto Vallarta.
I was shocked. My husband and I have been to this city every year for 10 years during the winter months to perform as musicians. We’ve never experienced anything like this. This city has always felt safe.
We could see everything from our rooftop
I opened Facebook to try and see if anyone in the local community groups knew what was going on. Everyone was piecing together that this must be retaliation after Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes, Mexico’s leader of the Jalisco New Generation drug cartel, was killed during a security operation to arrest him on Sunday.
Realizing we didn’t have much food in the apartment, we went to a friend’s apartment on the eighth floor of our building to eat.
We all went to the rooftop of the building and could clearly see all kinds of activity unfolding below us. There were fires in shops. There were people being pulled from cars. We saw people going into buildings and throwing Molotov cocktails.
It was frightening to look outside and see so much burning in flames, but it was oddly comforting to see that civilians weren’t being harmed.
As the smoke rose up to where we were standing on the rooftop, it started to feel unsafe to breathe in all the flames, which smelled of gas. As late afternoon rolled in, the smoke dissipated, and by evening, it had disappeared.
At around 5:30 p.m., a giant military chopper circled around us, which felt alarming for everyone looking on. The night was quiet, and we slept through the night without any disturbance.
I’m sad for locals who rely on tourism
Today, we can see that people are starting to venture out to corner stores for food, but many shops are still shuttered. People here like to eat out daily, keeping only small amounts of food at home. I can see lines outside the open shops. We have eggs and smoothies, so we are trying to stay in for the most part.
I can sense that people are rolling with how things are going. Flights have been canceled, but I’ve heard Airbnbs and hotels have been great about letting people stay longer.
While I’m not fearful, I am sad. I’m sad for locals who survive on tourism. Americans have traditionally been scared about the safety of Mexico, and this justifies fears. But for so long, this has not been the case in Puerto Vallarta — it’s always been incredibly safe. I’m sad about the impact that this disruption will have on locals’ livelihoods and the impact on the reputation of the city I love so much.
I feel safer in Mexico
Despite these last two days, I still feel safer in Puerto Vallarta than I do in the United States, where I live for large parts of the year. In the US, there is so much more gun violence targeted at civilians.
As messed up as the drug cartel attack is, it is retaliation against the government, rather than against actual civilians here in the city. I haven’t felt unsafe these last two days, because never once did I feel like the cartels were coming for us.
We are scheduled to be here until March 6th. We have three performances left — they may or may not get canceled. We’ll most likely just stay here until our return date home, unless things get really dangerous.
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