Yucatan, Mexico

April/May 2025

Yucatan, Mexico

Some places linger with you long after you’ve gone, whispering back to you in quiet moments, pulling at the edges of your mind. For me, Tulum is one of those places. I was there in December and early January with my wife and daughter, staying at our villa for the first time. When we left, I felt a pang, not the contented closure of a trip well spent, but the restless urge to return.

I’ve always been drawn to the Maya, their architecture, their cosmology, their genius. Corn. Zero. The calendar. Innovations so fundamental they still shape the world today. I’ve wandered through their ancient cities across the Yucatán, Guatemala, and Belize, but on this trip I planned to push further, to see a few more places where stone still holds the memory of their world.

My journey began at the new Tulum airport, nicknamed the Jungle Airport, and for good reason. It sits cradled in dense green, the architecture modern yet rooted in its surroundings with warm stone and wood touches that hint at the jungle just beyond. Driving out, the road cuts through the thick jungle and ancient ceiba trees, a living corridor into Tulum’s unique rhythm.

Tulum isn’t Cancun. It isn’t Playa del Carmen either. Where those cities stretch upward and outward with high-rises and wide resorts, Tulum keeps its skyline low. By regulation, no building rises more than three stories, and most stop at two. That alone changes the whole feel, less concrete, more jungle and blue sky. The style is boho chic, weathered wood, bamboo woven into the most elegant structures and a sense of balance with nature. Even as growth surges, there’s an effort to preserve the laid-back aesthetic and natural soul of the place.

But Tulum isn’t for everyone. Spend a little time in the Facebook groups and you’ll see the complaints, prices too high, beach access blocked by clubs, talk of cartel activity, stories of corrupt police. There’s truth in some of it. Yes, you can spend a fortune here, but you can also live on the cheap if you know how. I shop at the local grocery stores, stock up for breakfasts and lunches, and eat at taco stands where the food is fresh, flavorful, and a fraction of tourist prices. Still, I’ll splurge now and then, a candlelit dinner in a palm-thatched restaurant, the air rich with ocean breeze and mezcal. For me, the atmosphere and people make it worth it.

Beach access is another point of contention. Technically, all beaches in Mexico are public. But in Tulum’s beach zone, the shore is lined with clubs and restaurants, their cabanas, pools, and DJs create a barrier between the road and the sea. If you don’t want to pay for a daybed or drinks, there’s a trick: head to Raw Love (the one in the beach zone), a small shack serving smoothie bowls and avocado toast right on the sand. Tell the guard at the entrance you’re eating there and they’ll wave you through. After that, you can eat, swim, walk the shoreline, even kitesurf if the wind’s right, all without paying the beach club prices.

As for safety, cartel activity exists, but it’s not something I’ve ever seen in plain sight. I don’t do drugs, I’m not looking for trouble, and in all my visits to Quintana Roo I’ve never once felt unsafe. The police are a mixed bag. Many are helpful, I’ve had them guide me when I was lost. Others have pulled me over on the highway between Tulum and Playa del Carmen, fishing for bribes. It’s happened to me three times across the Yucatán, but now I know how to handle it. The last time, I was back on the road in under five minutes without paying a cent.

For all its quirks, I love Tulum with an almost unreasonable devotion. It’s a place where jungle meets sea, where yoga mats and surfboards lean against the same wall, where music and the breeze flow into the night. Cenotes glint like hidden jewels in the limestone, lagoons shimmer in the sun, and ruins stand silent under the stars. 

Day 1: Tulum > Suytun > Saamal > Ek Balam > X’Canché > Merida

The first leg of my journey was a road trip across the western Yucatán, an unfolding ribbon of jungle roads, sunlit villages and ancient stones waiting in the heat. My first night’s destination was Mérida, but I had to make some fun stops along the way.

The morning began in Valladolid, where I descended into the limestone heart of Cenote Suytun. The timing was perfect and I was the first one there. For forty-five minutes the world belonged only to me and the water. A single beam of sunlight spilled through the opening above, illuminating the round pool like a spotlight from the gods. I swam in the cool, impossibly clear water, took photos, and took in the stillness. I knew it could get crowded later, but this morning it felt like my own private temple.

From there, I headed to Cenote Saamal, a completely different, yet incredible spectacle. Huge, open to the sky, with a broad platform for leaping into the depths. But what really took my breath away was the waterfall,a white curtain crashing straight into the cenote from high above, filling the air with the roar and mist of falling water. Swimming there, I felt small in the best possible way, as if I’d stepped into the center of a living painting. To date, this is my all time favorite cenote that I’ve been to.

The road then carried me to my first Mayan ruins of the trip: Ek’ Balam. This city is a treasure, one of the few remaining sites where you can still climb its pyramids. The Acropolis loomed before me, a wall so well preserved that you can still see the traces of its stucco skin and sculpted figures! Thousands of years old, yet still whispering the shapes of the gods and kings who once walked here. Standing at the top, the jungle stretched endlessly in every direction, a green ocean rippling to the horizon. I explored the grounds for a good two hours before heading out.

Just beyond Ek’ Balam, I found Cenote X’Canché. I climbed down steep wooden stairs into a hidden world. Cool shadows wrapped around me as I stepped onto the wooden deck suspended above turquoise water. A rope swing hung from above, and nearby a rope bridge swayed gently over the pool. I dove in, the shock of the cold sending a shiver up my spine, then swung into the air laughing like a kid. For an hour, I swam, floated, and watched the sunlight dance across the water’s surface.

Eventually, the road called me onward. By late afternoon, I rolled into Mérida, a city where colonial facades and modern streets weave together into a warm, colorful rhythm. I made a beeline for the Mayan World Museum of Mérida, arriving just an hour before closing. It was worth every minute. Inside, artifacts glowed under careful lighting: jade masks, carved stelae, pottery worn smooth by centuries. My favorite by far was the Mayan Codex, folded like an accordion, its pages covered in ancient glyphs and illustrations, almost like a cosmic comic book. They even had a replica of the Acropolis from Ek’ Balam, strange and thrilling to see it recreated here and knowing that I had just climbed the real, ancient one earlier that day.

By the time I checked into Hotel Zamná Boutique, the day had caught up to me. The simple room was perfect, air conditioning, a shower, and a bed that looked like the promise of deep sleep. I grabbed a quick bite from a nearby taquería, then strolled to the Plaza Grande, where locals gathered in the warm evening air, music and conversation spilling across the square.

Later, back in my room, I called my family on video, sharing my stories while their faces lit up on the screen and hearing about their adventures back home lit mine up, too. Tomorrow would be another big adventure, the legendary Puuc Route (or “white road” in Maya), a road that connected a chain of ancient cities strung through the lush jungle. I’d read about it, dreamed of it for years. Now, for the first time, I was about to be there in person.

Day 2: Merida > Puuc Route = Uxmal >Kabah > Sayil > Labna > Hacienda Mucuyché > Hotel de Chichen Itza

Dawn cracked over Mérida in a wash of rose and gold as I slipped out of the city, chasing the first light toward Uxmal. The name means “Thrice Built,” a nod to the belief that its great pyramid was rebuilt three times. But Uxmal carries more than history, it carries legend.

They say a dwarf, born from an egg and raised by a sorceress, once challenged the king here. Through trickery, magic and fate, he won, becoming the Dwarf Witch King of Uxmal.

I arrived early, one of the first through the gates. The air was cool, the jungle still whispering from the night. Massive facades rose before me, every inch carved with divine geometry, jaguars and gods. Later additions from the cult of Kukulcán, the Feathered Serpent, still coil across the walls, their stone scales startlingly crisp despite a thousand years of rain and sunshine. From a high terrace, I could see temple peaks jutting through the jungle canopy. It was pure Indiana Jones territory, and for a while, I had it entirely to myself.

By mid-morning, I was rolling down the Puuc Route to Kabah, a quieter site tucked just off the road. The detail here was astonishing, more intact than in many of the ruins I’d seen. I lingered over a doorway flanked by twin kings, thought to depict the same ruler at different points in life, a power story told in stone. Across the road stood an arch, easy to miss, but once the ceremonial gateway to Kabah from Uxmal. Standing beneath it, I could almost hear the shuffle of traders’ feet, smell the cacao and see obsidian blades flashing in the sun as they moved between cities.

Sayil came next, its grand palace half-hidden among trees. Its most famous relief remains a mystery: a figure upside down, legs in the air, head and arms in the ground. Some say it’s the Diving God plunging for honey, others the Maize God diving into fertile soil. I found it after winding through the ruins, its lines still sharp, its meaning still alluringly out of reach. The site also revealed “flying walls”, architectural illusions meant to make buildings seem taller, a little Mayan stagecraft frozen in time.

Labná was the day’s last official stop, crowned by one of the most exquisite arches in the Maya world. For years it was mistakenly thought to show Indian influence, even sketched and published abroad as such. Scholars later confirmed its details were entirely Mayan. In 2013, a Mexican businessman had a replica installed in the Garden of Five Senses in New Delhi, India, not as proof of influence, but as a gesture of cultural sharing.

By now, I had planned to end my day and head toward a hotel near Chichén Itzá. But I was ahead of schedule, and temptation won. I drove to Hacienda Mucuyché, a restored 18th-century estate transformed by the creators of the Xcaret parks.

The grounds were stunning, elegant gardens, a shimmering lounge pool and restaurant, and the weathered beauty of the old hacienda. After swimming in the pool I decided to join a tour of the hacienda. The tour was in Spanish and I was happy that I could understand most of it. The hacienda is fantastic, but the real magic lies in its cenotes. The first cenote was beautiful enough, with cool turquoise water surrounded by limestone walls covered with lush green plants crawling down. The second cenote, hidden within a vast cave, was absolutely breathtaking. Sunlight streamed through an opening above, and the added lighting created dazzling reflections that danced like diamonds across the walls. Swimming through narrow tunnels, I felt as though I’d slipped into another world entirely.

Unfortunately, my awe was cut short when I discovered my phone, which had cracked some time back, had taken in water and died completely. No maps. No cell service. Just me, my memory, and the open road to Chichén Itzá.

The drive was uncertain at times, but with help from locals and a few lucky guesses, I made it to town. Finding the actual hotel in the dark was another adventure, circling the streets until at last I spotted the entrance to Hotel Villas Arqueológicas Chichén Itzá.

Stepping inside was like traveling back in time, not just to the ancient Maya, but to my own past. I had stayed here 25 years ago, back when it was a Club Med. So wild that this just happened to be the same place I stayed last time I was here! Tomorrow, I will walk among the stones of Chichén Itzá again. I’d have no camera to capture it this time, but I decided that might be a gift, forcing me to take in each moment, each detail, and carry it home in memory rather than through photos.

Day 3: Chichen Itza > Cenote Ik Kil > Playa del Carmen > Tulum

The sun had barely lifted above the horizon when I found myself at the entrance to Chichen Itza, the ancient city still cloaked in the hush of morning. I was first in line, savoring the quiet anticipation, the faint scent of jungle air carrying the promise of mystery. But as the gates prepared to open, the rumble of tour buses broke the stillness. Their passengers, armed with priority tickets, streamed ahead while I waited for the main gate to open. No matter, within minutes I was still among the first to step inside.

The path to the heart of Chichen Itza unfolded like a green tunnel, tall jungle walls closing in, the air warm and heavy with the scent of earth and leaves. At the end, the trees parted to reveal El Castillo, the great pyramid, its perfect geometry defying the centuries. Morning light spilled across its stone steps, each shadow a reminder of the Maya’s mastery of the sun and stars.

The grounds stretched far beyond the pyramid. The Sacred Cenote lay like a deep emerald eye in the jungle, a sheer-sided sinkhole once used for offerings to the gods. On the other side of the grounds stood the rounded temple known as El Caracol, “The Snail.” Its spiral staircase, unusual among Mayan structures, hinted at its role as an astronomical observatory, mapping the heavens for study and survival.

The Pok-ta-Pok court was unlike any I had seen before. Towering walls framed a vast playing field, each side crowned with a massive throne-like platform. I asked a passing guide about their purpose, were these the seats of kings, overseeing the sacred game? He smiled and shrugged; no one knew for certain. The stone hoops soared impossibly high above the court, far beyond the reach of a ball struck by hip or forearm as tradition dictated. Perhaps, he suggested, this was a different version of the game, one played with paddles or some other unknown accessory. The walls were less sloped here, the layout strange and singular, as if this place had its own set of rules lost to time.

I wandered slowly, drinking in the weight of the place. The air felt charged, as if the echoes of voices and drums still lingered. I had no camera, an ache in my gut, but I mustered the courage to ask a stranger if they might take a few photos of me in front of El Castillo. They agreed, and later that day, true to their word, sent them to me. That small act of kindness meant more than I could say.

After hours of exploration, I left just as throngs of midday visitors poured in. My next stop was the famed Cenote Ik Kil, only minutes away. When I arrived, I found it utterly empty, an impossible stroke of luck. Vines cascaded down its circular walls into the clear, cool water below. I climbed down the winding cave steps to the platform and leapt in, the splash echoing up into the open sky. The water was clear, blue and cold against my skin, the space around me hushed except for the distant drip of falling water and the occasional song from the birds above.

Inspired by my earlier good fortune, I asked the guard at the top of the stairs if I could borrow her phone for five minutes, offering 200 pesos for the favor. She agreed, and I managed to capture a handful of photos. 

I had planned to visit Coba next, but practicality called: I needed a phone of my own to navigate, contact family, and record the trip. On the drive, a wrong turn sent me north instead of west, and I wound up in Playa del Carmen. I had been here with my family just months before, and though it had once been a small coastal town, it has transformed into a bustling city, its malls lined with every global brand imaginable. Much of the charm is lost, but still a fun place to explore. The detour to Playa del Carmen worked in my favor, Best Buy had exactly what I needed: a cheap Android phone, perfect for the remainder of my trip.

Before leaving, I walked to the shore to see the Portal Maya sculpture, its twin arching figures framing the sea. Oddly, I’d never visited it in all my previous trips to PDC. Seeing it in person, with the salt wind on my face, gave me a quiet sense of connection.

The unplanned detour cost me three hours, but it was worth it. With a phone in hand and Google Maps at my side, I wound my way back to Tulum. The evening was soft and warm, the pool glinting in the fading light. I sank into the comfort of my home there, the hum of the jungle wrapping around me. Tomorrow, I’d resume the journey, this time, to Coba, to continue my pilgrimage through the remnants of the ancient Maya world.

Day 4: Atik > Coba > Azulik Uh May > Kaan Luum

After the disorienting detour of yesterday and the relief of replacing my lost phone, I woke this morning with a renewed sense of confidence. Navigation was no longer a worry, and with excitement in my chest, I set out to reclaim the day and dive into some of Yucatán's most remarkable treasures.

My first stop was Atik Cenote Park. I arrived just as the gates opened and found myself the very first visitor, as if the entire place was waiting in silence for me alone. The air was cool, damp with jungle mist, and as I stepped into the sculpture garden it felt like entering another world. The trail twists through thick foliage, and every turn reveals a new marvel: towering stone faces, surreal forms that seemed half-born from the earth itself, and one colossal head so massive it demanded reverence. I lingered there, circling it, photographing it, trying to absorb the presence it cast. At the far end of a reflective pool, another Mayan head waited, serene and eternal. A narrow walkway led across the water, raised just enough so that, from the right angle, you appear to be walking on water itself. Alone in that enchanted garden, it was as if I had stumbled into a dream sculpted from stone and jungle.

The cenote here was unlike any I had ever seen. Likely manmade, but no less awe-inspiring. Its water glowed emerald, a color so vivid it almost looked impossible, like the earth had conjured its own jewel. At one end, a ladder descended into the crystalline depths. A lone rock rose in the center, perfect for resting, while a small waterfall spilled gently at the far side, drawing me in with its quiet rhythm. I swam, floated, and let time dissolve in this magical pool, before finally pulling myself away to continue the journey.

Next came Cobá, an ancient city I had visited years ago but which felt entirely new today. The ruins here are scattered across the forest, far more spread out than most sites, and the best way to experience them is by bicycle. Just past the first great ruin inside the park, I rented one and pedaled along shaded jungle paths where roots cut across the dirt and cicadas hummed in the trees. Every few minutes, another ruin emerged: steep stone steps, fragments of temples, silent witnesses of a lost civilization. Few people were here, and the quiet lent the place a rare intimacy. A light sprinkle of rain drifted down, cool drops speckling my skin, and I welcomed it, riding slowly through the soft shower.

The great pyramid, once climbable, now closed after the pandemic, rose ahead, commanding the forest. I remembered the view from its summit from my last visit: the endless jungle stretching in every direction, other ruins poking above the canopy like forgotten islands. Today I could only gaze from below, but even so, its sheer presence was humbling, a reminder of the vast world hidden beneath the trees.

From there, I drove back toward Tulum, making a stop at the extraordinary Azulik Uh May – City of the Arts. If Atik was a dream, this was something otherworldly. The entire space felt alive, an organic labyrinth of bamboo and twisting natural forms, architecture grown rather than built. Few visitors wandered its walkways, and the stillness gave the place a temple-like reverence. At the entrance, a shaman performed a copal cleansing ceremony, smoke rising in fragrant spirals from a ceremonial goblet, the scent warm and resinous, filling the air with a sacred welcome. Shoes were left behind, so I walked barefoot, feeling each curve of wood underfoot, every step connecting me to earth and structure alike.

Azulik is also building a new hotel in Tulum, echoing this same impressive style. I’ve glimpsed its skeletal frame under construction, and even in its unfinished state, it already promises to be something extraordinary.

Finally, I made my way to Laguna Kaan Luum. I had seen countless photos of it, but nothing prepared me for its magic in person. A turquoise lagoon stretched wide, pierced at its center with a mysterious black hole that locals say could swallow you with its unseen current. Around it, wooden platforms float above the water, swings dangle invitingly, and a heart-shaped bamboo frame offers the perfect perch for reflection. I climbed the riser platform to take it all in, and from above the entire lagoon unfolded like a living painting — the contrast of deep black center against radiant blue-green water is breathtaking. I swam, floated, and let the lagoon carry me into stillness until the sky began to soften with sunset.

Back in Tulum, I ended the day at Burrito Amor, savoring a simple, yummy dinner before heading home. There, I shared stories with my wife and daughter, laughter carrying through the night, before sinking into bed, exhausted, fulfilled and grateful.

What a perfect day.

Day 5: Sac Actun > Cenote Calavera > Sfer Ik

At the end of yesterday I made the decision to rent a scooter. I’ve always loved scooters - the freedom they give you, the way the wind streams against your face, the feeling of flight as the road unwinds beneath you. Today I wasn’t venturing far, just staying around Tulum, so it felt like the perfect day to let the scooter carry me where the jungle whispered.

I set out early, the morning light shining across the jungle and aimed straight for Sac Actun - which means “White Cave” in Maya. This is not just any cave system; Sac Actun is part of the largest underwater cave network in the world. The Maya believed these cenotes were far more than water-filled caverns. They were gateways to Xibalba, the underworld, a place both feared and revered, where spirits passed through on their journey between realms. For the Maya, life itself was a series of levels: the earth we walk upon, the heavens above where the gods dwelled, and the shadowy depths below, where cenotes served as portals to this other dimension.

The road to Sac Actun stretches long and winding, dotted with hidden cenotes along the way. The deeper you go, the more the outside world falls away and at last, you’re wrapped entirely in jungle silence. Sac Actun is the very last stop and arriving there feels like stepping off the edge of civilization and back in time.

I joined a family of four for the tour, just the five of us slipping quietly into this sacred world. Climbing down into the cave, the air shifted instantly; cooler, hushed, as though the cave itself demanded reverence. Birds of startling colors darted overhead, and trees thrust their roots from the cave’s ceiling down into the water below, like colossal ropes anchoring heaven to earth.

The first chamber stopped me in my tracks. The water shimmered glass-clear, lit by scattered shafts of sunlight piercing the stone ceiling. The beams revealed an ancient tree, its roots spreading out like the arms of a god, illuminated in such a way that felt divine. The sight stole my breath. It was one of those moments that silences you because words feel unworthy.

As we swam deeper into the cavern system, the world became even stranger, more enchanting. With our snorkel masks, we peered below the surface where the cave mouths yawned wide, resembling cathedral arches carved by time. They seemed to beckon, vast and unknowable, whispering of journeys that only the bravest divers dared take. We didn’t go deep, we stayed at the surface, drifting across caverns and peering down at those submerged cathedrals, humbled by their mystery. It felt like floating at the threshold of eternity.

When at last I emerged back into daylight, I carried the enchantment of Sac Actun inside me. But the day wasn’t over. On my way back, I stopped at Cenote Calavera - the Skull Cenote. True to its name, this one is eerie and playful all at once. From above, three narrow holes puncture the limestone, like eye sockets in a skull. You can leap into them one by one, squeezing through just wide enough for your body, splashing into the cool cave pool below as birds swoop and circle inside the spacious cavern. A rope swing dangles below the large opening. I jumped again and again, laughter mixing with the echo of splashes in the cave’s hollow chamber. After some time I lay in the blazing jungle sun above feeling utterly alive.

From there, I cruised back to Tulum to the beach zone to explore Sfer Ik, the younger sibling of Azulik’s grand City of the Arts I had explored yesterday. If that place was a dreamscape, this was its intimate counterpart - smaller, but breathtaking in its detail. Inside, sculpted wood twisted like flowing rivers, polished stone glowed underfoot, and the air hummed with a sense of reverence. Walking barefoot, every texture pressed into your skin, grounding you in the art itself.

Just outside, a hidden store connected to the Azulik hotel offered its own kind of wonder. The journey through it felt like an adventure - weaving through wooden tunnels, crossing a pond on suspended planks, and climbing up a ladder to find a trampoline-like net where you could lie above the space, floating between earth and air. It was whimsical, dream-like and pure Tulum magic, the kind of place that seems impossible until you stand inside it.

The same ticket also led me just down the road to their sculpture garden - Jardin Encantado, where jungle paths revealed strange and wondrous creations. Sculptures rose like living beings from the earth, twisting and curling as if grown rather than built. One in particular stopped me - a towering form that looked uncannily like a giant Sorting Hat from Harry Potter, looming and playful amid the greenery. The garden was small, yes, but full of surprises, each path opening into something unexpected.

By the time I returned to Tulum, the sun was dipping low and the scooter hummed beneath me like an old friend. The day had been a kaleidoscope of worlds — from ancient Maya portals to avant-garde art spaces.

Tulum is unlike anywhere else on earth — wild, raw, eccentric, and impossibly alive. Every corner holds a secret, every road leads to something unforgettable. And today, with the wind in my face and the jungle at my back, I felt like I was part of its story.

I stayed another week at my villa enjoying the town, restaurants, cenotes and the all around incredible vibes of Tulum. When I packed to leave, I felt a tightness in my chest and tears prick at the corners of my eyes, as though I was leaving home rather than just a vacation. The good news? I won’t be gone for long. In a month, I’ll be back, with my wife, just the two of us, and my third trip to Tulum this year, ready to sink into that slow, perfect rhythm once again.

Below are some additional shots from my trip