On 6 acres of pristine Mexican coastline — and soaring 120 feet above the
ocean atop a sheer, vertical cliff — there stands a house that is not a
house. And while we, must grapple with words like “bedroom” and “living
space” to convey its essence in some kind of tangible way, only those who
have witnessed it first-hand can truly appreciate it — even if they,
themselves, can barely find the words to describe it. This “non-house” is
called Casa Tritón. What follows is a story about this non-house — and
about an equally surreal place called Careyes, which like the dwelling
couldn’t possibly exist. And yet, for the fortunate few who make the
journey, who experience the “palapa” lifestyle, and become enthralled with
the place and its people — it most certainly and thankfully does.
For almost 40 years, informed and enlightened travelers have ventured
to this not-so-distant part of the world. And along the way, Careyes has
quietly earned a reputation as the thinking man’s alternative to St.
Barth’s or St. Tropez — with every bit as much outdoor adventure, and a
healthy dose of Euro-style La Dolce Vita. Visitors rent villas or casitas
— often with extended families in tow. Once there, they snorkel, horseback
ride and snooze by day to the sounds of exotic birds and ocean waves — and
party at night to the beats of DJs imported from as far away as Paris. All
the while, they’re treated as locals — whether by the residents or by the
natural surroundings. And not coincidentally, part of that hospitality
comes from the house itself — because the essential difference between
Casa Tritón and other villas is in its mind- and mood-altering design.
The story of Casa Tritón — the crown jewel of the Careyes community —
begins with the development of Careyes itself. In the late 1960s and early
70s, resort developer Gian Franco Brignone commissioned a villa on an
otherwise uninhabited point just a few hours south of Puerto Vallarta. The
concept was an early form of eco-tourism — and the philosophy became the
foundation for an entire enclave of luxury villas. Careyes is surrounded
by the 30,000-acre Chamela-Cuixmala Biosphere Reserve. This protected,
area encircles and embraces the resort, creating an “eco-cocoon” that
gives the community its magically untouched, isolated feel — while at the
same time protecting puma, ocelot, green parrots, giant sea turtles and
other indigenous flora and fauna.
For Mi Ojo, the first villa to be built in Careyes, Brignone secured
the services of an architect by the name of Marco Aldaco. He had seen one
of Aldaco’s homes in Acapulco, where the architect was creating what would
become known simply as the “modernist palapa” style. Most easily
distinguished by the use of its namesake “palapas” — steeply sloping
thatched roofs supported only at the corners by thick posts made from tree
trunks — the broader palapa concept promoted a distinctive lack of
reliance on such man-made contrivances as windows, doors — and in some
cases even walls. Aldaco followed Mi Ojo with two more homes in Careyes,
including a palapa-style house called Maoritze. Then, some 25 later,
Maoritze’s owner hired Aldaco to design a new structure to be located
adjacent to his first. And while it’s still not entirely accurate to call
Casa Tritón a house, this amorphous, sinuous, organic non-house would
nonetheless come to be known as the archetypical expression of the palapa
philosophy.
If Frank Lloyd Wright surmised that a dwelling should respond to its
site and its surroundings, then Aldaco’s creation takes that hypothesis to
its logical and altogether brilliant conclusion. Casa Tritón not only
blends comfortably into its environment — it becomes the environment.
Here, there is no distinction between the house and the land or the house
and the air. Or even the house and the water, for that matter. An infinity
pool connects each section of the Casa Tritón to the next, so it’s
possible to wake up from an afternoon nap in the bedroom and swim all the
way to dinner. Aldaco also had lights aimed on an offshore rock formation
— making even the seascape itself part of his composition. But the one
thing that makes Casa Triton unique among all the villas in Careyes is
that Aldaco didn’t just carefully arrange a grouping of palapas on a
scenic overlook. Instead, he uses those forms together to create spaces
between structures — “negative spaces” without any walls — which by their
inter-relationship with the rest of the scheme become as integral to the
flow as any other element. Aldaco even used the gardens architecturally —
here, a room’s fourth wall might actually be a hedge. And incredibly, on
the rare occasion when it rains in Careyes, guests at the dining room
table are treated to a fabulous mist.
Even the site plan was developed of the earth, not in spite of it.
Aldaco naturally drew inspiration from the majestic bluff and its
incomparable vistas. But what’s truly noteworthy is the extent to which
the architect let the land determine the layout. Aldaco camped out on the
site for weeks to study and learn it — the views of the water and the
mountains, the direction of the rain, the wind patterns, and even the
light and shade. He identified the best sight lines, imagining everything
from the view through a window or passageway to an uninterrupted panorama.
Then, satisfied that he had achieved a perfect compromise between man and
nature, he sketched the plan for Casa Tritón in the dirt at full scale —
and had it photographed from a helicopter.
The result is a place that not only lets visitors gaze out over a
270-degree expanse of sea and mountains, but also forces them to
completely disavow their traditional views about indoors and outdoors in
the process. Each morning, as her guests push aside the simple shutters,
Casa Tritón opens up to the world. The living and dining areas — and even
the master bath — are each open on three sides. The breakfast room and
sunset lounge have no walls at all. Birds fly right through the media
room. And regardless of socioeconomic standing, Tritón’s human occupants
are required to share their temporary shelter with the resident frogs,
birds and butterflies. One could imagine a painting by Henri Rousseau
without the limitations of frame and canvas — or a five-star hotel with
turndown service provided by the breeze.
Being the non-house that it is (or isn’t), Casa Tritón, of course,
defies description in more ways than one. It obviously represents the
maturation of the “palapa” style — but at the same time, it also
epitomizes the Careyes lifestyle. Because everything about Casa Tritón has
been designed to help its guests commune with nature, and to indulge in
the unique way of life. Living is where Casa Tritón comes alive, and the
people of Careyes know how to live. Meals are taken outdoors as the space
dictates. Visitors host parties for friends, and family and Tritón plays
the perfect hostess — with some expert assistance from the full-time staff
of nine, which includes a butler, a gourmet chef, a houseboy, three maids
and three gardeners — where champagne flows outdoors to the sounds of
Beethoven mixed with the breakers, and where it’s not unusual to get lost
in the glow of several hundred lighted candles on the terraces beneath an
intensely starry sky.
In 1928, René Magritte made a painting of a pipe. Directly below that
image, he wrote, “This is not a pipe.” His statement helped to announce
the end of realism — of art bound by the laws of literalism. A few decades
later, Marco Aldaco’s palapa forms sprouted up from his carefully drawn
lines in the sand. In a much quieter way, his declaration exploded the
concept of architecture, and redefined the way we relate to our
surroundings — both indoors and out.
***NOTE***
There is the possibility to rent a fishing boat with fishing equipment
and an excellent fisherman for 2000 USD per week.
