February 13, 2003
By TIM WEINER

ZIHUATANEJO, Mexico, Feb. 8 - This was paradise.

But a sewer runs through it. Mexico's environmental protection agency sampled the water in Zihuatanejo's beautiful bay back in September. The results were not pretty: the agency said sewage from the city's wastewater plant had tainted one of the nation's loveliest harbors.

Winter currents are cleansing the bay, and hundreds of tourists are frolicking on the beach. The report has driven few people away. But it singled out Zihuatanejo among 16 of Mexico's most popular beaches that suffer from pollution. It found fecal coliform levels in the marina, near the plant, at 1,500 parts per 100 milliliters of water, far beyond health standards.

"People and tourists have a right to know this," said Victor Lichtinger, Mexico's environmental secretary.

But the right to know is a novel concept in Mexico. The local hoteliers reacted to the report's becoming public this week like a man with a hangover hearing an alarm clock. After years of living in denial, the businessmen who live by the tourist dollar here have been forced to admit they have a problem: they may be killing the thing they love.

"This one piece of data from five months ago could destroy this entire community," said Zihuatanejo's former mayor, Armando Federico Gonzalez. It could also change the way Mexico treats a treasure: the beaches that draw millions of tourists who sustain the country's economy.

For the local save-the-bay movement here, this is a moment like the day the Cuyahoga River caught fire outside Cleveland in June 1969, and the burning river compelled Congress to pass the Clean Water Act.

"This is a primordial place for us, and we don't want to lose it," said Oscar Gutierrez, an architect in Zihuatanejo (zee-wah-ta-NAY-ho), on the Pacific coast of Guerrero, one of Mexico's poorest states.

For three decades, the causes of clean water and environmental protection in Mexico have been swamped by the forces of development. The report has forced some members of the conservative business establishment here to the realization that "we've lost our balance," in the words of Javier de la Peoa, a hotel director. "The growth of Zihuatanejo exceeded our capacity to contain and control it."

The growth has battered the bay. "To our disgrace," said Zihuatanejo's new mayor, Amador Campos Aburto, "our municipal services did not grow along with the population."

Enrique Krebs, a restaurateur and leader of the three-year-old save-the-bay movement, moved to Zihuatanejo in 1965. No one then, he said, could conceive of its being polluted.

About 3,000 people lived here at the time. About 95,000 live here now.

What happened? In a word, Ixtapa.

In 1970, Mexico's federal government decided to build a tourist paradise next to Zihuatanejo. The federal tourism board made up the name of Ixtapa (ish-TA-pa). Then the tourism board made up Ixtapa, with 4,200 hotel rooms. It generally takes five workers to maintain one room. Almost all the workers and their families live in Zihuatanejo.

Lots of people got rich off Ixtapa. But little money went to provide basic services for the tens of thousands of people who clean its pools and mop its floors and rake its sand.

Many thousands of tourists come to Zihuatanejo, too. "We love the water and the sand and the people," said Robin Westerheim of Cypress Springs, Tex. "We did hear about the water, and we were taken aback. But we also know that Mexico knows that tourists are their livelihood. Their economy depends on us."

Zihuatanejo and Ixtapa, along with Acapulco, a three-hour drive down the Pacific coast, are the great tourist attractions in Guerrero. They represent 80 percent of the state's economy, said Guerrero's tourism director, Guadalupe Gumez Maganda. "This is our life," said Ms. Gumez Maganda. "It's crucial to our economic and social existence. This is our chance to make things better."

Save-the-bay crusaders, like Mr. Gutierrez and Mr. Krebs, say that federal, state and local officials responsible for the water in the bay now have a clear choice: lie, deny, or do something.

Some are still in denial. Enraged state politicians insist the pollution is caused by runoff from rainfall in faraway villages in the Sierras that lack plumbing. But the map suggests that the rivers that run through them do not flow into Zihuatanejo.

Other officials say they will do something. John McCarthy, the director of Fonatur, the federal tourism agency that built Ixtapa, said he would help create a $2 million government fund "to rectify what's going on in Zihuatanejo."

The citizens of Zihuatanejo already have done something. In an election three months ago they voted out the Institutional Revolutionary Party, the PRI, which ran Mexico for seven decades and still runs Guerrero's state government. The biggest issue was the water.

The winner was Mr. Campos, of the left-leaning Democratic Revolutionary Party. He pledged to work with the save-the-bay campaigners.

Now a test of the new Mexico promised by President Vicente Fox when he took power from the PRI two years ago is on tap.

In the city stands Mr. Campos, the leftist. In control of the state stands the old-guard PRI. In charge of the country and i environment stand Mr. Fox and his National Action Party. With national elections coming this summer, they collaborate on little.

"We are different colors," Mayor Campos said. "But we are going to work in harmony on this." ZIHUATANEJO, Mexico, Feb. 8 - This was paradise.

But a sewer runs through it. Mexico's environmental protection agency sampled the water in Zihuatanejo's beautiful bay back in September. The results were not pretty: the agency said sewage from the city's wastewater plant had tainted one of the nation's loveliest harbors.

Winter currents are cleansing the bay, and hundreds of tourists are frolicking on the beach. The report has driven few people away. But it singled out Zihuatanejo among 16 of Mexico's most popular beaches that suffer from pollution. It found fecal coliform levels in the marina, near the plant, at 1,500 parts per 100 milliliters of water, far beyond health standards.

"People and tourists have a right to know this," said Victor Lichtinger, Mexico's environmental secretary.

But the right to know is a novel concept in Mexico. The local hoteliers reacted to the report's becoming public this week like a man with a hangover hearing an alarm clock. After years of living in denial, the businessmen who live by the tourist dollar here have been forced to admit they have a problem: they may be killing the thing they love.

"This one piece of data from five months ago could destroy this entire community," said Zihuatanejo's former mayor, Armando Federico Gonzalez. It could also change the way Mexico treats a treasure: the beaches that draw millions of tourists who sustain the country's economy.

For the local save-the-bay movement here, this is a moment like the day the Cuyahoga River caught fire outside Cleveland in June 1969, and the burning river compelled Congress to pass the Clean Water Act.

"This is a primordial place for us, and we don't want to lose it," said Oscar Gutierrez, an architect in Zihuatanejo (zee-wah-ta-NAY-ho), on the Pacific coast of Guerrero, one of Mexico's poorest states.

For three decades, the causes of clean water and environmental protection in Mexico have been swamped by the forces of development. The report has forced some members of the conservative business establishment here to the realization that "we've lost our balance," in the words of Javier de la Peoa, a hotel director. "The growth of Zihuatanejo exceeded our capacity to contain and control it."

The growth has battered the bay. "To our disgrace," said Zihuatanejo's new mayor, Amador Campos Aburto, "our municipal services did not grow along with the population."

Enrique Krebs, a restaurateur and leader of the three-year-old save-the-bay movement, moved to Zihuatanejo in 1965. No one then, he said, could conceive of its being polluted.

About 3,000 people lived here at the time. About 95,000 live here now.

What happened? In a word, Ixtapa.

In 1970, Mexico's federal government decided to build a tourist paradise next to Zihuatanejo. The federal tourism board made up the name of Ixtapa (ish-TA-pa). Then the tourism board made up Ixtapa, with 4,200 hotel rooms. It generally takes five workers to maintain one room. Almost all the workers and their families live in Zihuatanejo.

Lots of people got rich off Ixtapa. But little money went to provide basic services for the tens of thousands of people who clean its pools and mop its floors and rake its sand.

Many thousands of tourists come to Zihuatanejo, too. "We love the water and the sand and the people," said Robin Westerheim of Cypress Springs, Tex. "We did hear about the water, and we were taken aback. But we also know that Mexico knows that tourists are their livelihood. Their economy depends on us."

Zihuatanejo and Ixtapa, along with Acapulco, a three-hour drive down the Pacific coast, are the great tourist attractions in Guerrero. They represent 80 percent of the state's economy, said Guerrero's tourism director, Guadalupe Gumez Maganda. "This is our life," said Ms. Gumez Maganda. "It's crucial to our economic and social existence. This is our chance to make things better."

Save-the-bay crusaders, like Mr. Gutierrez and Mr. Krebs, say that federal, state and local officials responsible for the water in the bay now have a clear choice: lie, deny, or do something.

Some are still in denial. Enraged state politicians insist the pollution is caused by runoff from rainfall in faraway villages in the Sierras that lack plumbing. But the map suggests that the rivers that run through them do not flow into Zihuatanejo.

Other officials say they will do something. John McCarthy, the director of Fonatur, the federal tourism agency that built Ixtapa, said he would help create a $2 million government fund "to rectify what's going on in Zihuatanejo."

The citizens of Zihuatanejo already have done something. In an election three months ago they voted out the Institutional Revolutionary Party, the PRI, which ran Mexico for seven decades and still runs Guerrero's state government. The biggest issue was the water.

The winner was Mr. Campos, of the left-leaning Democratic Revolutionary Party. He pledged to work with the save-the-bay campaigners.

Now a test of the new Mexico promised by President Vicente Fox when he took power from the PRI two years ago is on tap.

In the city stands Mr. Campos, the leftist. In control of the state stands the old-guard PRI. In charge of the country and i environment stand Mr. Fox and his National Action Party. With national elections coming this summer, they collaborate on little.

"We are different colors," Mayor Campos said. "But we are going to work in harmony on this."