Nayarit, Please: Where Micro-Empires Run the Economy

This week, we’re diving deep into the coastal heart of Nayarit. Forget the tired tropes of all-inclusive resorts and traffic jams on Highway 200. The real story here is far more fascinating: a land where hieleros carve lotus blossoms from ice, where forgotten female boxing champions once ruled the ring, and where a new bridge is about to sever a decades-long traffic curse.

Welcome to Nayarit, the State That Just Got Cooler—Literally and Figuratively.

The Ice Age Has Returned (And It’s Happening in Tepic)

In a plaza where you’d expect mariachis and tacos, Tepic’s main square recently hosted a scene straight out of a Nordic festival: students from the Universidad Vizcaya de las Américas sculpting intricate lotuses, eagles, and even La Virgen de Guadalupe—out of ice.

Yes, in 90-degree heat.

These aren’t just party tricks. This is Mukimono, the Japanese art of fruit and vegetable carving, now being taught in a Mexican culinary program with the precision of a Michelin-star kitchen. The students spend months mastering the craft, starting with a carrot rose and graduating to a 40-pound ice swan.

“It’s not just about beauty,” says professor Ezequiel Olan. “It’s about control. One wrong cut and the whole thing collapses. Like life in a beach town during Semana Santa.”

We like to think of it as culinary performance art—served with a side of agua de jamaica.

The Forgotten Queen of the Ring: Anabel “La Avispa” Ortiz Morales

Before “La Chiquita” González became Nayarit’s boxing sweetheart, there was Anabel “La Avispa” Ortiz Morales—a Tepic-born, mini-flyweight world champion who held titles with both the WBC and WBA between 2009 and 2013.

And guess what? She might be the first world champion boxer born in Nayarit, not Asley González.

While “La Chiquita” is rightly celebrated (she’s held her WBC belt since 2022 and is aiming for unification), Anabel, born in 1986, was a pioneer in an era when women’s boxing was still a sideshow. She trained in Naucalpan but cut her teeth in local gyms in Tepic, fighting in venues like Salón de Eventos Los Fresnos—where the crowd wasn’t there for spectacle, but for blood, sweat, and local pride.

“La Avispa” didn’t just fight—she stung. And now, thanks to a deep dive by local journalist Yostal Ramírez, her legacy is getting the spotlight it deserves.

So next time you’re in Tepic, raise a cerveza to the woman who punched her way through the glass ceiling—before anyone even knew there was one.

The Bridge That Will Save Your Vacation (And Possibly Your Marriage)

If you’ve ever driven from Puerto Vallarta to Nuevo Vallarta during peak season, you know the agony: a 2-hour crawl on Highway 200, where every meter feels like a personal betrayal by the gods of mobility.

That ends in 2026.

Construction has officially begun on the Puente Amado Nervo, a $900 million, 800-meter-long bridge that will connect Ixtapa (Jalisco) to San Vicente (Nayarit), crossing the Ameca River. It’s six lanes wide, built to withstand a 1,000-year flood, and—most importantly—will save drivers 25 minutes per trip.

That’s 50 minutes saved on a round-trip. That’s an entire episode of “The Bear” you can now watch instead of screaming at traffic.

Governor Miguel Ángel Navarro called it “prosperity shared,” and while that sounds like political jargon, in this case, it’s literal: half a million people will benefit. The bridge also means better access to Bahía de Banderas, Platanitos, and San Blas—places that have long been “hidden gems” because they were, well, hidden.

So pack your bags. The Riviera Nayarit is about to get a lot less riviera, and a lot more accessible.

The Scorpion Serum Strategy: Public Health Meets Jungle Warfare

In the mountainous regions of Nayarit, scorpions aren’t just pests—they’re assassins. And children are their favorite targets.

So what’s the state doing? Arming community health workers with antivenom.

The state’s health secretary, Beatriz Adriana Ruiz Huerta, announced that 10,800 vials of antialacrán serum have been distributed—including directly to auxiliary nurses in remote villages. These are women (and a few men) who live in communities where the nearest hospital is a 4-hour donkey ride away.

Now, they carry the serum with them. If a child gets stung? Treatment in under 15 minutes. No ambulance. No bureaucracy. Just a calm nurse, a syringe, and a life saved.

It’s a brilliant, low-tech solution to a high-stakes problem. And it’s working: the state tracks every vial used, ensuring no community runs dry.

So if you’re hiking in the Sierra Madre Occidental, rest easy. The real heroes aren’t in scrubs—they’re in sandalias, with a backpack full of miracles.

The “Cobro de Piso” Conundrum: Extortion or Just Business as Usual?

In Tepic, a curious debate is unfolding: Is “cobro de piso” (protection money) just a normal cost of doing business?

Mario Alberto Ruvalcaba Manzo, head of the local CANACO (Chamber of Commerce), recently told reporters that “the cobro de piso that normally happens… is normal.” He added that security in the state “has worked in a certain way.”

Meanwhile, the municipal police chief, José de Jesús Ibarra García, said they’ve received zero reports of extortion—but four reports of scam calls where criminals pretend to be city officials demanding payments.

So what gives?

Is the business community quietly accepting protection payments as a de facto tax? Or are they too afraid to report?

The truth is likely somewhere in between. But the irony is rich: the man who says “it’s normal” is the head of the organization meant to protect small businesses. And the police say they’ve heard nothing—despite the fact that someone is clearly calling and threatening people.

It’s a Sicario-meets-The Office situation. And we’re watching closely.

The Micro-Economy of Nayarit: 96% of Businesses Are “Changarros”

Want to understand Nayarit’s economy? Look no further than the changarro—the tiny storefront, the family-run taco stand, the guy selling phone chargers from a folding table.

According to INEGI, 96.1% of businesses in Nayarit are microenterprises—firms with 10 or fewer employees. And get this: they employ 57% of the state’s workforce.

Meanwhile, the big corporations? There are only 65 of them. But they employ 15% of workers.

So yes, Nayarit runs on small. On local. On abuela’s empanadas and tío’s tire shop.

And that’s not a weakness—it’s a resilience. During the pandemic, when big chains shuttered, these microbusinesses adapted. They sold via WhatsApp. They delivered on motorcycles. They survived.

So next time you buy a garnachita from a street vendor in Sayulita, know this: you’re not just feeding your belly. You’re sustaining an entire economic ecosystem.

The Transportistas’ Monsoon Misery

It’s the quiet crisis of the rainy season: the transportistas (bus drivers) of Nayarit are broke.

Why? Because students are on vacation. Because the rains flood roads. Because fewer people are commuting.

Francisco Adolfo Avilés, head of Transpornay, says some routes are down 50% in income. So what do they do? They take half the buses off the road to do maintenance. They rotate drivers. They survive.

“It’s the hardest time of year,” he says.

But here’s the twist: they see it as a gift. The downtime allows them to fix vehicles, train drivers, and prepare for the post-vacation rush.

It’s a lesson in Mexican pragmatism: when life gives you monsoon, you don’t complain. You tune the engine.

The Museum of Forgotten Expeditions

In Tepic, the Museo Regional de Nayarit is running a summer exhibit on Alejandro Malaspina, an Italian-Spanish explorer who mapped the Pacific coast in the late 1700s.

Malaspina wasn’t just a cartographer—he was a scientist, philosopher, and spy. His expedition (1789–1794) documented flora, fauna, indigenous cultures, and even proposed reforms to the Spanish Empire.

Now, his journals and sketches are on display—alongside pre-Columbian artifacts from the Tomb of the Shaft culture, one of western Mexico’s most mysterious civilizations.

Go for the history. Stay for the chisme: Malaspina was later imprisoned for suggesting Spain needed democracy. Talk about punching above your weight.

The Anti-Trafficking Campaign That Starts at Home

Nayarit is launching a major push against human trafficking—with a twist: the campaign is focused on family dialogue.

Diputado Salvador Castañeda Rangel says the key isn’t just law enforcement—it’s parents talking to their kids about online predators, fake job offers, and dangerous relationships.

“We need to be present,” he says. “Not just dropping them off at school. Listening.”

It’s a refreshingly human approach in a world of raids and arrests. And it makes sense: many victims are young women seeking work or escape from violence.

So the message is clear: your kitchen table is the first line of defense.

The Great Office-to-Apartment Reconversions (CDMX’s Gift to Nayarit?)

While not in Nayarit, this trend is coming: empty offices in Mexico City are being turned into apartments.

With 20% of office space vacant and housing supply stagnant, developers are converting floors into lofts—faster, cheaper, and greener than new construction.

Could this happen in Tepic or Bahía de Banderas? Not yet. But as remote work grows, the idea of live-work-play communities in Nayarit isn’t far-fetched.

Imagine a former bank branch in downtown Tepic becoming a boutique hotel. Or a shuttered call center in Compostela turning into artist studios.

The future of real estate isn’t building more. It’s repurposing what’s already there.

Final Thought: Nayarit Isn’t “Next Puerto Vallarta”
It’s something better: a place where culture, cuisine, and community are still handmade.

Where a student carves a rose from ice.
Where a forgotten boxer once ruled the world.
Where a nurse in the mountains carries salvation in a syringe.

This isn’t just a destination.
It’s a state of mind.

Until next time,
— The Mexicanist Team
Observing, tasting, and occasionally dodging scorpions.

📩 Want this in your inbox? Subscribe at mexicanist.com