Life in troncones,
majahua & saladita

I wanted to get some insight on the Mexico Surf Film Festival beyond press releases, research, facts and “official” interviews. I sent Patricia Fernández Suárez, the festival’s managing director, nine short questions by email. She responded with nine short answers, full of emotion, emojis and exclamation points. Nice. She also sent me a schedule of events. Perfect. Here’s how the festival sets up: 11 short surf films go up on the screen this Thursday in Playa La Saladita. 11 more do it Friday in Troncones. The judges’ finalists go for prizes Saturday in Zihua. A full schedule of activities for each day can be found below, after the interview.

Mutual friends introduced me to Maggie Miles in October, a former New York Times reporter on her way to her next assignment. She seemed to be another young person passing through Troncones. I was wrong. Maggie stayed. I kept seeing her around and I kept hearing she’s doing her work from here. That intrigued me. How does she do it? How does she sustain her career remotely? From Troncones? As we got up from this interview, I noticed the words “GOOD TROUBLE” tattooed on her forearm. I asked her what that phrase referred to. Maggie explained it came from a series of speeches made by American congressman and civil rights activist John Lewis—a phrase born of his refusal to stay silent in the face of injustice—a reminder that making “good trouble” can encourage social change. Good trouble. After talking to Maggie, I can see how she’s doing that, through her writing work and with her choice to call Troncones “home”.

Ramón was working his fishing line when I found him one Sunday. He’s like that. He’s not someone who sits idle. We have a table at home Ramón cut from a tree that fell on his mountain property. He took a “bad” thing and made something good out of it. That’s the Ramón I know. When I first met him in 2012, I was told Ramón knew everything about Majahua. He’d been in The New York Times talking about sharks, fishing and tourism a few years before. That led some people to say he was an “expert”. Ramón’s not like that. I know him to be observant and curious, not someone who needs to share his opinion or be the center of attention. Even when I started to ask him questions about how Majahua developed, Ramón insisted he might not be the right person to talk to, that there were already 12 houses here before him. But living in the middle of the village for almost 46 years does give him some credibility and perspective. Meet Ramón Carranza Valdez.

I first met Kim Kovel at Indigo, two tables next to each other blending into one conversation. I knew she was a rare bird right away. From New York. Fast-talking. On her own in Troncones. Missing her college-age kid. Likes to surf. Fan of the Grateful Dead. Jewish. Community-minded. Curious about everything. And modest. It was months later I learned Kim’s a creative force, an innovator and a team-leader who helped a Portland, Oregon sneaker company build its product lines and expand its brand worldwide. What’s she doing here? Besides creating a way to capture rainwater at her house? And passionately doing at least six other things? Maybe changing how you think about medical care in Troncones? Meet Kim Kovel.

A surf triptych—a mermaid Reina de Mar, a happy cross-step nose-rider in a bikini, a beaming Guadalupe in front of her boards—a painting hanging on a fence in the old Café Pacifico. The name Pato Azulita was tiny in the right corner. “Who’s that?” There was no time to find out. I was on vacation. That was 2014. I heard the name Pato again in 2022 when someone described art classes being offered by Playa Limpia, Troncones’ grassroots environmental program. It turns out it was the same Pato. Another four years of seeing Playa Limpia signs around town—signs saying things like, “Compasion Ecologica”, “Ama Tu Playa” and “Cuida Tu Pueblo, No Tires Basura”—and I finally got to sit down with Pato. I finally got to know, “Who’s that?” Meet Pato Azulita.