Tulum

beaches and palms and butterflies

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We spend our days renting bikes, buying fresh fruit and veggies, making salsa verde, getting tacos whenever possible and enjoying the various beaches.

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Tulum's airport is new and shiny having opened only a year ago and our arrival is accompanied by a welcoming cacophony of 'hola chicas' and 'Taxi? Taxi?'. We get a ride directly to our Airbnb, past yellow signs, warning about wildlife crossings while our driver brings with him the least wild animal I may have ever seen. A teeny-tiny dog with a massive head, who keeps quiet, but generously and vigorously licks our hands when approached.
To get to the Airbnb, the driver has to navigate a short way through the jungle on a completely unpaved and waterlogged road, resulting in a car which-while spotless at the airport-now looks like it's been on a jungle safari for days.

The Airbnb is the complete opposite of our hostel experience in Mexico City. We each get our own room and bathroom with hot, running water, a king-sized bed, air-conditioning, clean sheets and towels, a kitchen, another two bathrooms-just in case and to top it all off-a rooftop terrace with a small pool.

The days are hot and most of all humid, making it impossible to keep anything dry. This includes linens, towels, clothes and books, but it also keeps me looking like a freshly permed poodle at all times for no extra cost. So overall a plus in my book.

When walking to town I pass fancy, brand new rental units and hip and expensive shops selling coffee and boho couture on one street, while the next is lined with selfmade sheet metal housing, homes with textiles for windows, exposed wires and stray dogs wandering around, begging for scraps of the food that's being sold out of garages and carts.

A long walk to the beach leads me past the forest giving way to more construction sites being actively worked on than I've ever encountered, the cost of the worker's wages probably barely scratching a percentage of the future income of these luxury resort owners. Along the golf of mexico the hotel zone blocks direct access to the water.

The white beaches glow in almost surreal pastel hues. The water is clear and warm and salty and while I don't get to see one, two minutes after splashing and running into the waves, I get stung by a jellyfish. The sting is minor though and stops itching much faster than the countless mosquito bites we get after dark.

Our last night we spend in a hostel to cut down on costs ever so slightly and to be closer to the bus stop the next day when heading to Santiago de Chile. We meet some fellow Baslers and loads of British people and let our time in Tulum come to an end with some tacos, beers and cheers.

Much to my chagrin I didn't encounter a single jaguar while in Tulum, despite the promise of the yellow signs along the highway leading in and out of town.Читать далее