Ray and I went swimming with a sea lion in Puerto Vallarta in 2024. We were the only two people in the water for our session with Vallarta Adventures, and I loved it.
I thought I was sharing one of my favorite travel memories. Then the comments started.
We’re planning to return to Puerto Vallarta, and I’d been thinking about doing it again. We’d booked independently the first time, so I emailed the company to ask how that experience compared with booking through the cruise line. Would a larger group feel rushed? Would we have the same time with the animal?
Their reply recommended cruise-line booking because of scheduling and transportation. It didn’t answer the question about group size, so I still had more to find out.
Meanwhile, I started sharing our pictures.
I’d heard objections to swimming with dolphins. When I first posted, I briefly wondered whether people felt the same way about swimming with sea lions. I mentioned that question to Meta, but our first exchange didn’t give me much to go on.
Then somebody left a crying-face reaction. Just a reaction, without a comment. I wondered whether it was accidental or whether they were trying to tell me something. I started looking for information.
That search led me to changes in Mexico’s marine-mammal laws. I was already researching when the comments started.
One man called me inhumane and said I should be embarrassed to share the pictures. Another called me selfish.
A woman approached it differently. She offered her perspective without insulting me. I thanked her and told her I was learning more. She acknowledged her own past animal experiences, including riding an elephant, and mentioned going to zoos.
I appreciated being able to have that conversation.
That last part made me stop. Zoos, too? Now I wanted to understand how broadly people draw this line.
Here is what I’ve found so far.
American Humane announced in July 2019 that Dolphin Adventure in Puerto Vallarta had earned certification covering the dolphins and sea lions in its care. Vallarta Adventures continues to advertise that certification. I haven’t yet verified its latest renewal or seen its audit findings. 1 2
The certification program evaluates things such as veterinary care, housing, social behavior, enrichment, and animals’ choices about participating in interactions. 3
Mexico’s law adds another layer. The reform published July 16, 2025 restricts the possession and use of marine mammals and prohibits breeding apart from specified conservation purposes. It also includes transition provisions for existing animals and previously approved activities. Some additional requirements concern cetaceans, such as dolphins, specifically. 4
I want to understand what those changes mean for the sea lions I encountered.
These are some of the questions I want to ask:
- Where do the sea lions live between encounters, and what do they do throughout the day?
- Where did they come from? Were they born under human care, rescued, or obtained another way?
- Can an animal decline or leave a session, and what happens afterward?
- How do staff distinguish play, interest, stress, and reluctance?
- What independent evidence is available about the animals’ welfare and this particular encounter?
I’m preparing questions for Vallarta Adventures and American Humane. I’d like to hear from people who work with the animals and examine the evidence behind their answers.
I was also disappointed. This was one of my favorite excursions, and I’d been excited to share it. Having that experience called into question was more complicated than changing a caption.
I took the post out of those groups and stepped away from recommending the activity while I learned more.
I’m still going to share these pictures and the experience Ray and I enjoyed. I can do that without apologizing for having enjoyed it, and I can be honest about the questions I haven’t answered.
Where do I stand right now? I’m pretty close to 50/50. I may lean slightly, and I can admit that. I’m sharing an experience I enjoyed and questions I’m still exploring. I’m not recommending for or against the encounter. I want more information before reaching a firm conclusion.
I don’t support cruelty. I didn’t see horrible conditions during my visit. At the time, the sea lion seemed to be enjoying the encounter, too. I know what I saw, and I know there are parts of the animals’ lives I didn’t see. I’m no marine biologist. If there is evidence of harm at this facility, or research explaining harm a visitor might miss, I want to read it.
I remembered two experiences in the Bahamas. Once, an encounter I’d booked was canceled because, as I remember being told, the sea lions were “acting up.” I never learned what that meant.
On another visit, we did an encounter where we stood on a platform and the sea lions came to us. It was fun, although I preferred being in the water with the sea lion in Puerto Vallarta.
Now even that canceled excursion has me asking questions. What were the animals doing? What did the staff recognize? Was canceling a way of respecting their unwillingness to participate, a safety decision, or something else? I don’t know.
My questions reach beyond one company. Where do we draw the line with animals in tourism? With zoos? With the animals in our food system? How much of what feels acceptable comes from what we grew up around, and how much comes from information we’ve examined?
I can recognize differences between swimming with a sea lion and killing an animal for a trophy while still asking whether an encounter can cause harm. I need more information about that harm, how it is measured, and whether good practices can prevent it.
Research saved my life.
There’s another question running through this story, too: what are we trying to accomplish when we speak to somebody?
It connects with some very different encounters Ray and I had on our way home from a recent trip.
Ray fell as we were leaving our cruise in Seattle. There was an ambulance, a hospital visit, changed travel plans, and then the job of getting both of us and all our luggage home.
The Southwest staff in Seattle helped with our bags and arranged wheelchair assistance. We needed that help, and I appreciated it.
In Phoenix, a wheelchair attendant made a sarcastic remark about our luggage. At a moment when we were dealing with a lot, it was hurtful.
He later apologized. I told him I didn’t want to get him fired, but he shouldn’t do that to people. It was mean. I could accept his apology and still tell him plainly what his words had done.
Then there was Sean Valentine, the airport cart driver. He helped with the bags, made sure Ray was seated safely, and made me laugh.
While we were waiting for our plane, I used ChatGPT to help write an email to Phoenix Sky Harbor’s customer-service team. I wanted somebody to know how much his kindness had meant.
Sandra, from the airport’s Guest and Employee Experience team, replied that Sean deserved a FLY Award. They would share my email with him and his leadership. I was delighted.
He was already kind. I bet hearing that a passenger had taken the time to write would encourage more of what he was already doing.
I remember Sean’s name because I wanted his kindness recognized.
The rides home gave me another comparison. One driver wanted assurance of a good tip before the trip. I would have tipped him, but demanding it in advance didn’t go over well with me.
Later, an AI tried to describe that experience as the driver making me feel small. I corrected it. He didn’t make me feel small. He made me think he was an asshole. There is a difference, and I want my stories to retain my meaning.
Then there was Muhammad, another Lyft driver, whose kindness stayed with me. I tipped him 25 percent because I thought he was a remarkable human being.
These encounters have me thinking about how we speak to people, particularly people we don’t know.
The woman commenting on my sea lion pictures made room for a conversation. The airport attendant’s apology made room for another one. Sean and Muhammad showed how much a little care can mean when somebody is having a difficult day.
An animal-welfare concern can be valid even when someone expresses it rudely. I still need to examine the concern. But calling me inhumane doesn’t explain what the animal experiences or help me evaluate the evidence.
I want to remember that when I’m the one who thinks someone else is missing something.
I have opinions. I get irritated. I’m perfectly capable of wanting to tell somebody exactly what I think of them.
Before I do, I want to ask myself what I hope will happen afterward. Do I want them to understand something? Am I trying to help? Am I angry and looking for a fight? Is the way I’m speaking likely to get me where I want to go?
When I complain, I want change or understanding. I don’t want to dehumanize the person I’m complaining about. I hope the wheelchair attendant thinks twice before making that kind of joke again. And I like to think that recognizing Sean’s kindness encourages him to keep sharing it.
I’m still learning. Cancer made me feel like Scrooge looking at his Christmases past. I wanted to change my current life. I’ve been given more time, and I want to use it to leave more kindness, more love, and more joy behind.
The more goodness I look for, the more I notice.
As for Resilient Roads, this is the beginning I’m working toward: sharing experiences I loved, things I’ve learned, questions I’m investigating, and the life Ray and I are living along the way.
There will be travel stories and cruise ports. There will be cancer, weight loss, dancing, and ordinary days that give me something to think about. Sometimes a story will change as I learn more.
I stopped saving my life for later. I’m living my bonus days, and I’m still curious.
I thought I’d begin by telling you about a sea lion.
Now I want to tell you what I find out.
Welcome to Resilient Roads.
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