Tulum and Isla Holbox: Boho and Barefoot
PART ONE: TULUM
If Tulum was a lady, she’d be a flower child dancing with outstretched arms on the sand. This is the bohemian feeling we conjure as we breathe in the balmy air, watch palm trees swaying and listen to waves crashing. Our hotel, The Panamera, lies behind us, and thousands of miles back, all the pandemic fears. We’ve taken three weeks out of time before we have to plunge back into our reality: isolation and mask wearing. For now, we are savoring the freedom of being here.
We land in the rain and starving at 10:00 pm. Our anxieties are sky high after delays, rerouting and traveling via plane during a pandemic. Luckily, Alfonso, our driver knows just the remedy and takes us straight to Joaquina Gomez II. For $1 each, we munch on handmade tortillas loaded with crispy pork and beef. Chopped red onion mixed with cilantro is the garnish along with homemade hot sauces and slices of lime. After months of cooking at home, we can’t decide what we love more: the flavor of the tacos or the fact we won’t be doing dishes tonight. Pan flute musicians play, a stray cat begs for scraps with pouty eyes. We treat Alfonso to his own meal of twice our portion and continue on our two-hour drive to Tulum.
Once through downtown Tulum, we begin a bouncy ride on a muddy beach road peppered with potholes. Everywhere people are dining on late night suppers al fresco. Tiny shops are still open, over-flowing with the distinctively beachy Tulum look of raw cotton, feathers and leather. The air smells of Mayan incense mixed with coconut and lemongrass. The road and the party end at our hotel, The Panamera.
We have the corner room #10, the only suite with an ocean view in this charming 14 room boutique hotel. The thatched-roof restaurant and bar seem to have been hand-dipped in a yummy celadon green stucco. The hotel’s manager lets us know that we are comped to the Leon Bridges concert on the coming Sunday. Estevan, a friend we made in the Aeolian Islands who lives here part time, recommended The Panamera. We can tell right away it’s the perfect spot for us. Everything is open air and outside, from the lobby to the restaurant. As we unpack in our pure white room, it already feels like home. It’s all very cool. Especially the pink tiled pool, which is Instagram Champagne.
The stylish pool and restaurant at Panamera
Come morning, we’re beachside, and immensely excited that the Wi-Fi extends to the sand. Roxy and I are both digital nomads, taking Zoom meetings and tying up loose ends at work. “I think we are the only people in Tulum with real jobs” Roxy quips, and I can’t help but agree as I take stock of the Instagram models that flock to our hotel’s beach club. Roxy and I enjoy our quasi- workdays in preparation for the weekend.
On Saturday we’re listening to a great DJ and anticipating tapas from Baby Brasa. The “resto-bar” is a Peruvian oasis in New York’s West Village. And, not incidentally, Franco, the chef and mixologist Milan, are on hand to greet the hotel guests with big smiles. We introduce ourselves to them as co-authors of our upcoming travel memoir, ROXY & ME. That opens doors and hearts. Connections come easily.
Starved for human connection after isolation, we make fast friends with locals and travelers alike. We’ve just met a couple who moved here from Montreal. Gerard and Maya along with their six-year-old boy Noah, who seems to be known and loved by everyone at Panamera. In reaction to the COVID-induced Zoom education choices, his parents have decided to pull him out and put him into a jungle school here in Tulum. He’s thriving with freckles and long blonde hair. Noah runs the show independent and free. I asked Maya how she made this life choice. “People have to use their imaginations and their soul to get through this pandemic. Don’t let lockdown lock you down, it’s all about practicing stillness, so you can seize the moment and restart in a new way. We selected a different experience, and we are so happy we did.”
More new refugee friends, Arno and Olivier are here from Marseilles. They are best friends and restauranteurs whose Le Fiancé was closed down due to the pandemic. “Why go back and do nothing? The French government is giving us $10,000 Euro to stay closed. We are all connected, the whole planet. So why not see it?” says Arno. “The Pandemic has created a common experience for all humanity—a oneness,” Olivier chimes in. “People are choosing to be defiant or obedient in the face of the pandemic, we’re choosing to travel.”
We quickly develop a daily routine: yoga, smoothies, beach, fabulous dinner, rinse and repeat.
Our yoga instructor is Raul, slender, tan, muscular and tattooed head to toe. Roxy says he looks like he’s from central casting. “When you breathe, you connect the body with the mind and the mind with the soul,” says Raul. We breath all through Raul’s beachfront yoga class that mixes Hatha with Ashtanga practices. We vow to begin each day saluting the sun with Raul.
We pick up smoothies at Matcha Mama. On our way back to The Panamera, we run into Franco and Milan, from Baby Brasa. They promise a special experience at lunchtime for us. And they assure us we won’t even have to leave our chaises, shaded by a huge umbrella and facing the Caribbean Sea. Does it get any better than that?
We’re settling in, when we meet Nis. A gorgeous gale wind of a woman whom we instantly befriend. She and her handsome husband, Conrad, invite us to an intimate beach barbeque by starlight, at their bungalow next door. When we arrive, the table is set with plates hand-painted by Nis. (Her line was once sold at Anthropology.) Napkins are cinched with handmade Mexican dolls and colorful stars. Birds of paradise and roses center the scene. Conrad has caught and grilled tuna and barracuda. He and Nis serve them with chili-lime rice. Then out come Mexican lobsters! 3–5 lbs. each, the rosy crustaceans are slathered with butter, garlic and lemon.
Our fellow dinner guests are happy people living lives of their own creation. We all just click, as travelers do. Conrad lights candles and coils that repel mosquitos. We meet a darling couple from Johannesburg, Dries and Henri. They are staying at The Nomad, a chic Moroccan inspired jungle retreat. The wine flows and fuels our conversation. At 11:30 pm, after five hours of pure merriment it starts to rain, and we run next door to The Panamera. Keyless and without ID, the security guard leads us up to our room. Too excited about the evening, we toss and turn and ultimately miss morning Yoga with our beloved Raul.
Eventually, we do venture out taking a long walk on the beach. On the way toward town, we pass a dozen small, rustic resorts—not a big chain hotel is in sight. When we hit a wall (literally- a wall of rocks piled high), we hop in a cab for a 10-minute ride to Pacna, a chic hotel with a sushi bar presided over by a Japanese chef. We sit on beach poofs beneath a canvas awning—in the VIP area, natch. A group of drummers start to play in front of the waves as we eat seafood fried rice with chunks of scallop and shrimp, the chef’s choice of sashimi and a spicy salmon roll. Heaven.
The cool kids arrive from Washington D.C. Roxy and I haven’t seen Christie and George in a COVID year and we’re thrilled they’ve decided to fly down and join in the fun. We all love Rosa Negro in Mexico City and are eager to try the jungle outpost here in Tulum. When we arrive in the evening, house music is thumping and young girls are dancing on top of their chairs. We get a table away from the frat house vibes and shout our orders to the waiters who are handing out sparklers. The scene is surreal.
We have a quiet dinner in the jungle at Arca. The bone marrow arrives on a tiny charcoal grill seasoned exquisitely with herbs, followed by huge prawns succulent and swimming in a rich habanero sauce, ideal for sopping up with the crusty bread. We are looking forward to going back for more dishes when the sensational Miss Elizabeth comes to town. But that’s a story that must wait.
Only Hartwood, the top-rated restaurant in Tulum, is comparable. There, the pork ribs are slow-roasted for eight hours in the wood burning oven—and they’re falling off the bone amazing. Hartwood is also HQ for the most deliciously beautiful people in the world. “The guys here are hotter than LA!” High praise from one Roxy Roffer. Elevated sustenance, surf, new friends—we are loving Tulum.
The outdoor kitchen at Hartwood
Leon Bridges perform an intimate concert. We sip crisp, white Mexican wine and swim into his world of neo-soul music touched with romance. “Take me to your river. I want to go.” Those lyrics say it all to me. One legendary hour later, Leon says, “I just fired my band, so here I am.”
As promised, our ‘Miss Elizabeth’ arrives, fresh from New Orleans. We had met her on New Year’s Eve 2019 in Zihuantanejo and became fast friends. She joins Nis, Conrad and Roxy and me. An instant ‘crew.’ We all share a vast red snapper roasted in an elixir of sauces from The Panamera’s cucina. The conversation capers from table to table, with Leon and his small entourage sitting right next to us. Lush, lovely, unforgettable.
Under the we paid the price, and it was worth it category is Gitano. We land there the next evening with Miss Elizabeth and her darling friend, Jill. Not to be missed, it’s a jungle experience and music venue. The cocktails are spicy and the live music contagious. We see a unique mix of frat boys, drag queens and Boho party girls—by far the best people watching in Tulum, ideal for people-connoisseurs like us.
Elizabeth’s business partner has treated us to his car and driver, Chico, and a private boat ride to Sian Ka’an Biosphere Reserve. We slide into the jungle’s edge—laughing lightly along the Mayan Lagoon. Chico is tight lipped about what our adventure entails, and after touring the El Castillo ruins, we are instructed to put our life vests on upside down like diapers. “I’ve never looked hotter” Roxy deadpans. It’s not elegant but essential for free-floating down the Mayan-built canal, through its shadow and sunlight world of mangroves.
We rendezvous with Chico, and drive to a nearby beach club. There, directly on the water, in palm-shade, we enjoy bottle after bottle of rosé and homemade lobster ceviche—followed by a grilled platter of more lobster, fish, shrimp and steak. When we arrive back at The Panamera, we finish the day with, you guessed it, yet another bottle of rosé.
PART TWO: ISLA HOLBOX
Leaving our beloved Panamera, we travel to Isla Holbox. It takes two and half hours in a shuttle van, followed by 25 minutes on a ferry and then 7 minutes in a rugged golf cart. Then and only then do we finally reach the end of the island.
We have landed at Las Nubes. And we immediately walk out into the sea. Shallow blue crystalline seawater and a white powder sandbar spread out before us all the way to the horizon. Large flocks of seabird’s swoop in and settle on the sand. We eat lunch directly overlooking the water—welcome to the outdoor restaurant at Las Nubes.
First, a fresh fish ceviche with red onion and sweet tomatoes. Then handmade tortillas with ribeye steak cubes. Skinny margaritas pull all the flavors into focus. After lunch, we walk toward town shifting from the sandbars, to the water, to the beach. Children play, lovers stroll, couples ride bikes together, sunbathers hold court with friends. The restaurants that dot the beach are rustic and unadorned. A palapa, some chairs, that’s it. The perfect complement to Tulum’s ultra-chic, sometimes over the top establishments. After a nap, we venture out to town where the roads are made of sand and there are no shoes are required.
We choose Roots, famous for their lobster pizza, as our rest stop and order the famous specialty. Live music plays, children bounce on the trampoline and swing on a rope from a tree. It’s all laid back and delicious. The lobster pizza is extra crispy, and our favorite crustacean is garlicky and crumbled on top of just the right amount of tomato sauce and the thinnest layer of cheese.
Lucious lobster pizza at Roots
What strikes us about the town is that there’s so much street art. Almost every building is painted with a large mural. An enormous pink flamingo, rows of colorful fish, faces of children playing on the beach. The murals are like a living museum, each telling story of life here on the island.
We take an afternoon boat ride to three islands with two couples from Poland. The first stop is an island populated with giant pelicans. We can watch them roosting in the treetops and congregating on the beach. Our new Polish friends make all of this Audubon Society stuff fun and exciting. Young smart lawyers, they take turns snapping pictures of us, and we of them. On the second island, we visit a cenote with its azure blue water filling a crater made by a meteor millions of years ago. In we plunge and simply float. On the third island, we take pictures of each other against billowy clouds and a setting sun, exactly replicated by its reflection on the glassy water topping the sandbar. In such situations all one can manage is a blissed out sigh.
Walking on water at Isla Holbox
The next morning, I wake up and go out to the sea. I sit in a rounded wicker chair with soft, stuffed cushions and look out at thinly spread water and expansive sandbars. And then they come! The no-see-ems, swarming like I was nectar. Oh well, life in the jungle. I decamp to the restaurant and ask the waiter to pour me a coffee, my first cup this entire trip. I’ve found that I don’t need caffeine when I know I’m waking up to a new experience. That’s the fuel. COVID and the stay-at-home orders have lulled me into a state of sameness, with only coffee to look forward to in the morning. In Isla Holbox, the day unfurls in an entirely different way—unwrapping itself like one of those ribbon toys with a tiny prize inside. When Roxy joins me and our breakfast arrives, so do the seagulls who swoop in and gobble it up like passengers at a cruise ship buffet.
Yoga at Tribu and the mother of all smoothies after, layered and served in mason jars, they are almost too pretty to eat. Chia seed pudding awaits at the bottom, while spinach, and pineapple layers the top, accompanied by banana slices, strawberries, granola and kiwi. This place, Painapol, is a true discovery for those seeking gluten-free, dairy-free treats. Afterward, we find ourselves more or less walking on the water, over the sandbars toward our hotel at the end of the beach.
We arrive at Races for delicious shrimp cocktails and fresh grilled fish with garlic butter. The band plays reggae and sings in Spanish. We love the beat, the food, the tequila and watching couples dancing in the sand. After lunch, we lie together on a big sunbed facing the sea. In keeping with our ‘me-time’ habit, Roxy reads, and I work a bit. As the sun sets, we travel back to town in a four-wheeler, the only type of vehicle allowed on the island. We have a light dinner of octopus tacos at the beachside restaurant of Hotel Casa Las Tortugas, a charm-full boutique hotel.
Wouldn’t you know, there’s a shop inside the restaurant and its sublime—truly dazzling handmade clothing and jewelry from local Mexican designers. I dream of having places to go to wear these inimitable garments, but sadly, I remember, that could be months, or even a year away, as long as the pandemic rages on. For now, I resolve to be happy with the anticipation.
Sadly, our castaway fantasies are coming to an end. I spend my parting moments on Holbox walking on the sandbars and into the shallow water which makes an indelible mark on this oasis, and my mind. I think of all the things we will miss about this adventure: children playing soccer and making sand castles, watching the early morning ritual of clearing seaweed, wearing next to nothing every day. The water, the waves, the warm faces of beautiful Mexicans who do so much to ensure our happiness and safety. The ceviche and tacos handmade with love.
Yes, love. That’s it isn’t it? Out of our shared love of all things travel, Roxy and I decided to escape here. It was a gamble. Now, we return with spirits renewed, our imaginations reawakened and our love and respect for each other enriched. These are the real reasons anyone travels. And, based on our Tulum and Isla Holbox adventures, as long as you do it safely, patiently and with gratitude, all Roxy and I can add is… ‘vaya con dios.’
