How Tulum Yourself in 10 Days (Part 1)
Day 1
It’s a hazy day in Tulum. The sky is blue but the sun is barely awake. It seems to be snoozing through the morning hours, letting the day wake feebly like a developing polaroid. The street is quiet and empty, except for some yogis headed to their morning classes in matching leggings and sports bras and… us. It’s 8am and Mystery Man and I are up and ready for our first day in Mexico. Perhaps it’s the jetlag but we had been exceptionally early-risers this morning and had woken up at 6:30 to the ringing of our internal clocks. It’s incredible how our bodies work that way. Six o’clock here had meant 1pm in Switzerland, and zero chance of us falling back asleep. A couple hours of lounging under the covers and we had been off to Tulum’s main strip. It’s exceptionally dusty: a road scarcely laid with concrete and splattered with potholes resembling craters. Surprisingly, this is where some of Tulum’s most extravagant hotels are located. As we drive along, I recognize one bar and restaurant after the other, making a mental note of the ones we had booked for the coming ten days. Our first stop is at the end of the road: Matcha Mamma.
It's barely more than a straw-roofed shack, with a counter and a bar table and three swings that serve as seats. It has a laid-back surfer vibe and an extensive array of smoothie bowls to choose from. Mystery man and I each opt for a colorful option; the “Mamacita mango” for me, and the Acai-based smoothie bowl for him. Inspiration also hits me, and I boldly order a bright green Matcha Latte but, after a first sip, am matchly disappointed. Compared to the fruity and flavorful bowls, its blandness leaves me cold. It’s a healthy start to our day nonetheless especially as we have an entire morning of pampering ahead. After a long day of flying and a late arrival yesterday, I can only praise Mystery Man for thinking two steps ahead.
We’re greeted in the serene sanctuary of the Ylan Wellness Retreat Spa, where wafts of incense drift through the air as we wait for our 10:30 appointment. We begin with a four-step wellness ritual that takes us through a hammam, an ice bucket shower, a cold pool with various massage jets, and finally a warm water basin, which is the one you really look forward to anyway. We probably soak in the hot water for about an hour. Long enough to make us forget about the massages still in store for us. We had booked ourselves into the cleansing massage which is, as we were told, a traditional Mexican ritual, but I don’t think anyone could have prepared us for what it actually was.
The two masseuses start innocently rubbing our backs, testing our bodies and feeling our tenseness. I hear a rustling as my masseuse bustles around the bed towards the corner of the room to fetch the lotions no doubt. When she returns, I expect her to lather my back with oil but instead, I’m taken aback by a light but sudden hit to my shoulders. And another, and another. Far from it being painful, I can’t distinguish what it is she’s hitting me with, but I quickly realize she is far from being done. It feels like a handful of straw or grass, until a familiarly fresh scent fills the air and I recognize it to be rosemary. And lavender perhaps? She whips and whips me all over my back until I feel like there is no part of it that she had not already whipped, and that’s when she moves on to whipping my arms and legs. Whip, whip whip. On it goes until some whipping later she presses what feels like an egg into my hand and tells me to direct all my fears into it. Feeling slightly silly, I do as I am told and clench my fist around it, wishing all my negative thoughts away. Finally, she takes the egg away and I hear it crack into a bowl. She leans in again and whispers in my ear: “The egg is cracked and all your fears are gone with it”. And that, is when the actual massage began. If only the world’s troubles were solved as easily as that.
After the treatment, picking the remains of rosemary leaves from my hair, I can’t help but wonder whether the two masseuses had just had the laugh of their lives, whipping two clueless tourists with a handful of herbs and pressing an egg into their hands to “release their negative energy”. In retrospect it sounds so absurd, and I imagine them whooping with laughter telling their families about it tonight: “We had another pair of gringos today and we smacked them with rosemary for a laugh!” In any case, we are in a complete daze leaving the spa, feeling, as it happens, exceptionally well.
As for the question to be or not to be, I suggest you settle for the latter. We’re just finishing our lunch at Be Tulum, the hotel across from the Spa, and we are far from being amazed. At first, its boho chic décor had been enchanting and so distinctive of the Tulum mystique. One of the most exclusive Tulum hotels, it has a jungle-like path that leads you to the beach club restaurant and the hotel rooms emerge behind palm trees in the forms of wooden cabanas. Laid-back dance beats meet our ears, and the setting in front of the beach looks idyllic. The food, unfortunately, was not. Though the staff had boasted about their most recent acquisition - some five-star chef from (I forget where – and that should tell you enough) - who would be serving his special menu at the hotel for the coming month, the basic beef tartare and sea food ceviche we were served were not worth the hundred euro we’ve left on the table before heading out for our afternoon swim.
Perhaps in protest of our overpriced lunch, we opt for the low-key local Taqueria La Chiapaneca for dinner. From the outside, we’re greeted by the hot flames of rotisserie where large porks are roasting and the chefs are preparing tacos in the heat. A large crowd is waiting in front of the counter and watching the fiery spectacle. From the inside, it looks dirty and screeches germs in the context of a global pandemic. Luckily for us, we sit down anyway and quickly realize that the food is exceptional. The tables are set with colorful and stained tablecloths and on each one sits a container with coriander and onion, lime, and spicy sauces. A spoon is placed in each condiment and as I observe the tables around us, I notice they are left throughout the evening and not changed for the new guests. Maybe not the place for the faint of heart or the germaphobes amongst you, but with a wet wipe, isn’t anything possible? We both order the Tacos al Pastor, and they arrive swiftly and deliciously for us to top with condiments and devour with hunger.
Day 2
I remember one of our drivers in South Africa two years ago vividly. I remember him driving us to the hotel reserve in Kruger Park and shaking his head at our amazement upon seeing our very first impalas. “They are the McDonalds of Kruger,” he had said dismissively. “They are everywhere”. We had scoffed at first, thinking we would never not be impressed by any wildlife we would come to see here. Should it be lions, leopards, or antelope. But he had been right. A few safaris in and we had both become tired of seeing these impalas, these McDonalds of Kruger Park everywhere. Show us something new! And the phrase had stuck. It had stuck so well in fact, that when we had seen all the iguanas scattered across the lawns of the Tulum Ruins, mystery man and I had agreed that they were the McDonalds of Quintana Roo. They were everywhere. Propped atop an old pyramid, sun-bathing on the remains of a Mayan temple or else lazing about in the shadow of a tree. We start counting them until we realize there is no counting them. There are too many.
The archaeological site itself is a tourist attraction, but one that is worth the visit. A park of Mayan ruins, some better preserved than others, built atop a hill with cliffs cascading down towards the turquoise sea. The waves lick the boulders of rocks and the sandy beach clean. Palm trees sprout from everywhere, their leaves dancing in the wind, and it strikes me how very exotic it all feels. This is how I imagine the Caribbean Sea. The image of the ruins set against the brightly colored water is spectacular too and not lost on any of us. Lines form as the tourists discover the right selfie spots to capture the scene - and themselves with it.
After about an hour of strolling around, we are ready to leave. For one, because there is nothing left to see, and for the other, because the trickle of sweat rolling down my back is nothing short of unbearable. It seems just right, therefore, that our next stop is the Dos Ojos Cenote. Cenotes are freshwater sink pools often within caves and major hotspots on the Yucatan peninsula, especially for tourists looking for refreshment in the heat.
The Dos Ojos Cenote is about a twenty-minute drive away from the ruins. We pay the 300 pesos entry fee and make our way to the first pool where we drop our things and are given a life jacket. I can already recommend taking a pair of flip flops, a towel and a backpack that you don’t mind leaving on the side whilst you take your dip. The water is cool, almost cold at first touch, but we float around for a good ten minutes, exploring the cave and spotting bats swooping in and out of nooks in the rock. Others are snorkeling around us. Apparently, the stalagmite and stalactites are impressive below us, but we had not been tempted to pay the extra fee. We make our way to the next cenote which is included in our ticket and splash around in that one for a while too.
It would not be right to report on this day without mentioning where we had had breakfast in the morning. Taqueria Honorios is another legendary taqueria where people – locals and tourists alike – stand in line to get their hands on some of the best tacos in town. Mystery man and I opted for four different types including the infamous conchinita pibil. The conchinita is the signature taco of Yucatan with slow roasted shredded pork from the “pib” – an underground earth oven – pickled onion and coriander. It had to have been my favorite from our Honorios selection, though all of our four picks had been delicious. (Mystery man would perhaps note the turkey in the relleno negro as particularly outstanding).
From breakfast to dinner, we had been late for our 7:30pm dinner reservation today. Whilst dinner at Gitano itself had been nothing to gush about – your standard outdoor-luxe-restaurant-turns-to-club establishment with the usual tasty but over-priced truffle pizza and shrimp tacos - I will take a moment to touch on the terrible traffic situation in Tulum which had been the root cause of us being late for our 7:30pm dinner. It won’t take a genius to find out that the one lane road concept on which the entire Tulum beach strip is concentrated doesn’t seem to be working. Night after night the road is congested with cars and taxis making their way to the hip restaurants and bars that are located along the strip. Every time a taxi stops, the entire line of other cars and taxis stop. Every time a car stops, the entire line of other cars and taxis stop. If you imagine this happening along a stretch of about 10km, you get an idea of how often you find yourself stopping. In fact, you may want to imagine how often you are actually moving – that might be more exciting.
A word on our hotel, Casa Altamar. A twenty-minute drive out of Tulum, it’s an idyllic getaway with a homey feel. The property is secluded and off the main road along a gravel path that leads you to the sea. At night, I find myself staring out of the window as we drive down the rocky trail and wonder what creatures lurk in the darkness of the jungle. What predators are hidden behind these trees? Even from the safety of the car, the thought is inherently eerie. During the day however, the jungle just seems vibrant and alive and very, very green as its branches and leaves dance in the wind. The trail is dusty and hot with lizards skirting across it, their tails sketching patterns of scales into the sand. Casa Altamar finds itself towards the end of this road. Two symmetrical sets of steps lead the way up to the main entrance, and from the outside it almost looks like a private home. The décor is simple, an organic mix of pragmatism and aesthetic. Our room is on the second floor: a master suite right on top of the beach, facing the water with palm trees swaying and rustling in front of us. If I reach out my hand I can almost… just… touch it. Like the rest of the hotel, the decoration is nothing extravagant, but rather laid-back and clean. The view and atmosphere are what brings the place to life. There’s nothing like falling asleep to the whisperings of the sea.
Day 3
Some will call us loco, but on our third day of holiday we’re up at 5:50 and in the car at twenty past six. The sun has yet to rise, and the sky is that pale lilac color where the clouds melt into it like cotton. We have a long day ahead. We’re off to Chichen Itza, one of the world’s seven wonders and a two-hour drive away from Tulum. We are on our way there early to make its opening time at 9am to avoid the heat and tourists. I had never driven through two time zones before, and I can assure you it’s nothing ground-breaking. But as we pass the border of Quintana Roo and into the state of Yucatan, the time on the car dial flips back one hour, and it’s twenty past six again. (Did I mention it was nothing ground-breaking?) By around 7am we make a stop in Valladolid, a quaint and authentic town with colorful buildings and an imposing but beautiful church. The place is only just waking up in these small hours. We meander around empty streets and stop at a taqueria for two conchinita pibils – how’s that for breakfast – that we eat on a park bench whilst the locals slowly begin their day.
Tacos swallowed and digesting, we hop into the car and drive off towards stop number two – Chichen Itza. If you too are thinking about visiting these great Mayan pyramids, I suggest you follow our lead. We’ve arrived at the Chichen Itza entrance at precisely 9:02 Yucatan time (the time difference really played in our favor) and make our way to the ticket counter on speedy legs, overtaking a group of tourists spilling out of a bus like ants. There’s already a line, but it isn’t too bad, and after about 10 minutes we’re on our way. The path towards the pyramids is shaded by trees and the relentless Caribbean heat is still at bay. The main pyramid is situated at the very center of the site, and rightfully so, as it is magnificent. It seems that the Covid pandemic does have its perks: we are standing in front of this monumental wonder practically alone and undisturbed. From all four sides, its splendor cannot be denied. Majestic and bold, its ancient stone steps rise towards the sky as though they were indeed the stairway to the blue heavens above. Unfortunately for us, we are not allowed to climb these steps due to Covid precautions, but that doesn’t stop us from admiring its greatness. The size and color of the stones themselves is impressive, not to mention the sheer weight they must have. And whilst the temple isn’t moving or changing, we find ourselves standing in front of it, just staring at it in awe.
The pyramid may stand there unmoved and will probably remain that way for all of eternity, but that doesn’t mean that its surroundings do the same. All around the pyramid, street sellers have set up their stands and are bustling around, crying out prices and souvenirs they are selling, occasionally using a wooden mouthpiece to roar out like leopards and attract the youngest of customers. The hectic buzz of activity has flared up around us as the number of tourists steadily increases, until finally, there are more of us than there are iguanas. As we make our way to look at the other (less impressive) ruins on the site, I feel the heat picking up and my shirt stick to my body like a constricting moist second skin. It’s only ten o’clock.
Again, we find ourselves escaping the heat by making our way to a cenote (can you see a pattern forming?) Cenote Ik Kil resembles a Tarzanian utopia, with the pool set in a deep cave with vine-like plants hanging from the top of it. A few hundred steps lead down through the rocks and into the natural pool, which, as we wade through the shallow water, is completely empty apart from us. Beams of sunrays highlight the water and their iridescence glows far into the depths below. Tropical birds flutter from rock to rock along the walls of the cave that are adorned with a myriad of colorful flowers and mossy greens. As I kick off from the steps and let my body glide into the pool, the cool water swirls around me and I feel different layers of temperature skim across my skin. Turning onto my back, I let myself float in the midst of this tropical paradise, gazing up at the azure sky where not one cloud obscures the view.
***
We’re now in the car again driving deeper into the rural maze of Yucatan, along neglected roads surrounded by jungle. Receiving a phone signal here would probably be just as unlikely an event as finding the next petrol station. Praying the Mayan Gods don’t have any trouble in store for us, mystery man and I continue the bumpy road, crossing a car or an over-crowded pickup truck every 20 minutes or so. We find ourselves once more in a race against time, though on this occasion, not to reach the opening of some attraction, but to make our lunch reservation. Or rather: to make our lunch experience.
We had come across Chef Rosalia on Netflix’s infamous Chef’s Table series spin-off on barbequing. Mystery man had made it his mission to track her down and book us in for a culinary tour. The tour takes place at no other than her very own backyard, in her hometown of Yaxunah. Don’t be fooled, the village is another one-hour drive from Chichen Itza, and takes you into what feels to me like the heart of Yucatan. It as though we are at the very genesis of the region, as though the spirits of the past live on here, in the soil, in the people, and… in Rosalia’s cooking. This sheltered place is the home to a population that, for a big part still only speaks Mayan. It’s undisturbed from the noise of hectic Tulum and Chichen Itza. Here, tradition simmers on peacefully, and it’s in this calm that Rosalia preserves her Mayan ancestor’s culinary secrets that she is ready to divulge to us as we step out of our car and join the awaiting group in her backyard.
What follows cannot be put into words because it is a mixture of scents and tastes beyond description. Rosalia and her family show us their pib, their underground oven covered with banana leaves, where two pots of pork have been slowly cooking for 24hours in their sauces. She shows us how she grinds the herbs and spices into different pastes for marinades. Her sister shows us how she prepares the corn tacos, first molding them into small circles, placing them on a stove, then next to a fire so they swell up, until she finally pierces them flat with a slap of her palm. We then each have a try creating our own taco which turns out more difficult than it looked. Then, at last, the moment we had all been waiting for. Rosalia, in a native white dress with red and pink flowered stitching, this woman who is so sweet and so small you just want to pick her up and keep her in your pocket, invites us to sit and try the food she has prepared for us. We are served three different types of tortillas, each time with the tacos in a bowl and the meat on a serving dish so we could assemble them ourselves. The flavors are exquisite. We first eat through a fried taco with chicken, then the Conchinita Pibil which outdoes any of the ones we have tried so far, and finally, the Relleno Negro. You will have to try these tastes for yourself one day, as it’s one of those fine things in life where no words, no pictures, can do it justice.
And still, our day isn’t over. On our way back from Rosalia’s we stop at two more cenotes, Oxman and Suytun. The first is reminiscent of the jungle vibes we had earlier this morning at Ik Kil, with a zip line that swings you into the water, but it’s busier and more crowded. The latter is below the ground in a dark cave and is known for its instagrammable stone platform path that only just sits above the water surface for the most scenic photos. For some reason, the platform is fully submerged under water now, though it’s still visible under the surface. After a few snapshots and some floating around, it’s finally time to go home. It’s impossible for me to keep my eyes open during the way back, so I don’t know how Mystery Man managed to drive us home. Back at the hotel, we are completely utterly and totally exhausted. Legs sprawled across the bed and our heads lopsided, the sound of the waves lulls us to sleep whilst our thoughts wander off to recall the day we had just lived. A day so full, so splendid, it could have accounted for two, but that was, in reality, only day three of losing ourselves in Tulum.
