Life in troncones,
majahua & saladita

When you know, you know. Ana Aguilar discovered Saladita on a surf trip after the first year of the pandemic. She’s stayed. She found a quality of life that matched her heart. A marine biologist, a sustainable farmer, a surf-wear entrepreneur and a yoga teacher, she’s become someone people look to for her experience, her creativity and her gentle way. She’s been embraced throughout Saladita as Anitya [pronounced “Anita”].

Wherever you go, there he is. Winter Ramos. A man on the go in a place where it’s hard to get almost anything done. One day, I saw him on his motorcycle in La Boca in the morning, then, sitting with a group of people at Pacifico in Troncones mid-day and, later on, shopping with his kids in Zihuatanejo that same afternoon. Maybe we have the same interests? Maybe similar schedules? Maybe, but I don’t run a restaurant, a hotel and the largest real estate company in town. It’s no wonder he speaks in short sentences. He saves his energy for doing other things.

I’ve been friends with Victoria Ryan for quite a while. She has a house in Troncones called Casa Azul. The Blue House. It’s literally a blue house, on the hillside, near the clinic. Victoria is also the owner of Hotel Casa Encantada in Pátzcuaro [in Michoacán], a popular small-city destination for people curious about colonial Mexico. She also owns an apartment house in Pátzcuaro known as Casitas Pátzcuaro. I know her as an artist. She’s more than that. Like I said, she’s a friend and she’s a good person to meet.

When a small bridge between Majahua and La Boca collapsed last winter, local officials made an appeal to La Unión for assistance. With no bridge, there was no way to go between Troncones and Saladita without going to the highway, which is a time-suck and a safety risk, especially for people on motorcycles. One official took charge of making sure all the procedures were followed and that La Unión made good on its promises. Meet Caren Judith Díaz Rentería, the comisaria of Brisas del Mar, who at 30, already knows the ins and outs of getting things done.

I met Aikeke in the street in the Centro in Zihuatanejo almost five years ago. He was outside his music school, waiting for a student. He struck me as an interesting guy, and I thought it odd that I would meet him. I don’t play music, but I like talking to teachers. Especially good teachers. They see and hear the world differently than most of us do. It turns out Aikeke has quite a number of students who live in Troncones. When I heard his school was having a recital at La Mexicana (April 4) and that he was struggling to make a higher rent, I went to talk to him. Googling him before going led me into a world of calypso, soca and reggaeton drumming I know nothing about. He’s clearly a master of those beats. And he really does hear the world differently. Meet Aikeke [AH-kī-kī].

When the curvy wall for El Muro in La Pequeña was being built nine years ago, people wondered “What is that?”. The construction took a different approach, its crews using superadobe bags to create the wall’s framework. That legacy of “a different approach” persists today with El Muro becoming a popular place for retreats, particularly for women. That movement is being led by a young lifestyle and hospitality entrepreneur who has made La Pequeña and El Muro “home”. Meet Xochil Alvarez Saunier.