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Oaxaca

Oaxaca City

In 2022, I had the opportunity to spend six months in Mexico, split into two trips. The first trip lasted four months, and I spent the first two weeks in Oaxaca, and the remainder in Chiapas. 

I began my trip to Mexico on December 31, 2021, after one of the most challenging years of my life. Not only was I navigating the changes and challenges along with the rest of the world that the pandemic brought, but I also finished my master’s program, started a new business, and put my 16-year-old dog to sleep. And it all came to a head in December of 2021. My dog, who had been sick with cancer for more than a year, started to deteriorate during the fall of 2021, and I put her to sleep on December 4^th. My sister had planned to accompany us, but unfortunately contracted a serious case of COVID. I was able to find a friend to be with me, but it was a very tough time for our family to say the least. Amid the grief, I managed to take final exams for my last semester of grad school and graduate on December 18^th. Those first couple weeks of December are a blur, and I don’t remember a lot outside of feeling numb and beaten down. My sister and I spent Christmas in Arizona with my mom, and although it was good to be together, we had several other stressful situations thrown at us, on top of everything else. 

I had purchased a one-way ticket to Mexico sometime in November when I knew Audri wasn’t going to make it past the holidays. Although it was a very painful loss, it was also a new beginning for me. Audri and I were together for 14 years, and she was one of the primary things that kept me from traveling more extensively. But I finally found myself, for the first time in my adult life, completely free to travel for as long as I wished. I didn’t have Audri to care for, I wasn’t in a relationship, and I worked remotely. I was making enough money to maintain my apartment in Denver so I could have an open door to return whenever I felt ready. And so, despite the chaos, I headed to Mexico. 

The first stop along my journey was Oaxaca City. I had planned to spend a week there, where a friend who lived in Mexico was going to meet me, and we were going to rent a car and drive down to Puerto Escondido together. But in the spirit of my luck at the time, my friend had to cancel her trip to Oaxaca because of an accident her boyfriend was in. So I spent the week in Oaxaca City solo instead, and then took a tiny jumper flight to Puerto Escondido. I really enjoyed Oaxaca City, and in hindsight wish I had stayed for longer. January is the busiest month of the year for my industry, so I spent most of the week working in my Airbnb. I got out for meals when I could and enjoyed a lot of really yummy (and affordable) vegan food and seafood. There are some beautiful and unique neighborhoods in Oaxaca City, with a lot of color and beautiful art sculptures. The vibe was happy and light, during a time when the US was filled with tension and fear. The Mexicans seemed to uphold their sunny dispositions and love for fun and parties despite the pandemic. The shift in energy was just what I needed. 

Before I headed to Puerto Escondido, I spent a day exploring the city on foot and took a bus to Monte Alban, a large pre-Colombian archeological site located just outside of the city. The ruins were once a metropolis of the Zapotecs, and there are pyramids and a few other structures that still stand, which tourists can climb to see beautiful views of both the ruins and Oaxaca City. Oaxaca City has a lot of character, and I will return for a longer visit one day.

Oaxaca City and Puerto Escondido are only about a six-hour drive apart, so the flight was quite quick and in one of the smallest planes I’ve been in. When I boarded the plane, I was asked to sit up front with the pilot since I was traveling alone. In planes that small, there is often only one pilot. I was nervous at first, but I had ridden in the front of another small plane in Belize and felt quite safe. There’s something about being up front and being able to see where you are going that feels comforting. And on a flight that short, you don’t make it very far up into the air before descending back down. So before I knew it, I had landed in Puerto Escondido, and it wasn’t even 10am. I dropped off my bags at my Airbnb and set out to explore the area.

Puerto Escondido

Puerto Escondido is a small beach town on the Pacific coast of Oaxaca state. The beach is gorgeous, and a popular destination for surfers because it is known for its large waves. That part was a bit unfortunate because the waves made the water too dangerous for swimming. However, I did spend a lot of time that week on the beach and enjoyed many meals at restaurants along the water. The food was delicious – I indulged in a lot of seafood, ceviche, and pina coladas. 

I quickly learned that Puerto Escondido was a party town – there isn’t much to it outside of the beach and night clubs. Wi-Fi and phone service was virtually non-existent, which put a pretty big wrench in my plans to work remotely. I had read that good Wi-Fi was hard to find, so I planned to use my phone’s hotspot as a backup plan, but that was no longer a possibility because I couldn’t get a connection. Luckily, I was able to find a decent co-working space with good internet, but it cost $15 USD per day. My Airbnb was located close to the beach and the nightclubs which sounded good in theory, however, the noise from the nightclubs carried into my room until 4am most nights, and it was impossible to drown out even with earplugs and a white noise machine on full blast. Originally, I wasn’t sure how long I was going to stay in Puerto Escondido and had hoped to stick around for a while since it was near the ocean. But after a week of barely sleeping and paying $75 for internet, I decided it was time to move on and bought a bus ticket to San Cristobal de las Casas, a popular town in the state of Chiapas with a lot of expats. 

My Airbnb in Puerto Escondido was a cabana located on a local Mexican family’s property, along with another cabana that was rented by another traveler. They offered massage and temazcal on site, so I decided to pamper myself with a spa day before heading to San Cristobal. I had a massage in the morning, and a temazcal ceremony in the evening. Temazcal translates as “house of heat.” A Mayan temazcal is an igloo shaped sweat lodge made of volcanic rock, mud, and cement. In the ancient Maya world, temazcal was used as part of a curative ceremony to purify the body after exertion, or for healing the sick and improving health. I had never tried it before, so I decided to give it a shot. It was a bit awkward to say the least. I was the only person participating that night, and Tacho, the middle-aged Mexican Airbnb host who spoke no English facilitated the experience. He prepared hot coals and heated the sweat lodge, which took about an hour. Once the sweat lodge was good and hot, Tacho told me to undress completely and instructed me to go inside the sweat lodge. I assumed I would be alone, but he entered with me. He had prepared a bucket of hot water with special herbs to cleanse the body and mind, which he ladled over the hot coals so steam filled the sweat lodge. It was hot, steamy, and humid – almost unbearable. After about 10 minutes, he led me outside to a barrel of cold water where he proceeded to dump several buckets of cold water over my naked body. I was not expecting this and was shocked by the icy water. We then returned to the sweat lodge. This back-and-forth process continued for about an hour until the herbal concoction was gone, and I felt weak and faint. Tacho told me to lie down outside under the stars, which I did for about 30 minutes before retiring to my room. It was an odd experience since I was naked, alone, and didn’t know what I was getting into, but I felt simultaneously revitalized and relaxed afterward. 

The next day I woke up with stomach cramping and diarrhea from something I had eaten or drank the day before. My bus to San Cristobal left that evening and was a 14-hour overnight ride. There was a bathroom on the bus, but I underestimated how difficult it would be to use the bathroom while the bus was moving, especially with the way they drive in Mexico. Thankfully, I got most of it out of my system before my overnight journey began. I arrived at the bus station about an hour early. I had purchased my seat online but never received the ticket in my email, so I went up to the ticket counter to speak with someone. They didn’t speak any English, and my Spanish was too limited to express what I needed to. I couldn’t use my translation app because I didn’t have phone service. A girl behind me who was bilingual came to my rescue and began to translate for me. The ticket person essentially told me that for security reasons they couldn’t give me my ticket (even though I showed him my passport), and that I had to call an 800 number. That was not possible since I had no phone service, but thankfully the bilingual girl was kind enough to call on her phone and continue to translate for me. We waited and waited and waited and never actually got through to anyone. My bus began to board, and my bilingual angel had to board a different bus, so I was about to lose my translator. I began to panic. We attempted again to talk to the person at the ticket counter to ask if I could buy another ticket, but the bus was full. I didn’t have anywhere to stay that night if I didn’t make it onto my bus, and the last thing I wanted was to be stuck there for another night. I started to cry, and finally the ticket person begrudgingly took my passport and printed a copy of my ticket and handed it to me. I still don’t understand why they couldn’t give me a copy of my own ticket in the first place, but I felt a huge wave of relief once I finally had the ticket in my hand. 

Chiapas

San Cristobal de Las Casas

I finally boarded my bus to San Cristobal and prepared myself for a 14-hour ride. I did my best to sleep, but we stopped every hour which would wake me up as soon as I’d get relaxed enough to finally doze off. After a very long night, I arrived in San Cristobal around 7:30am the next morning. I was delighted to see that I had phone service again and called an Uber to take me to the Airbnb I had booked a few days prior. I checked into my Airbnb and began to get settled. I was exhausted but also hungry, so I headed out to get some breakfast and supplies before lying down for a nap. San Cristobal is a special place, and I instantly felt a sense of ease. It had a different vibe than the other places I’d visited in Mexico. It felt authentic and there was a pleasant mix of locals and expats but wasn’t overrun by tourists. Because of the expat community, there were a lot of things that helped me to feel at home. Vegan restaurants, organic food and product shops, yoga classes, meditation and spiritual workshops and gatherings, and hippies from different parts of the globe selling handmade jewelry and other items on the streets. The buildings are vibrant and colorful, and the city center is filled with cobblestone pedestrian streets that are lined with restaurants, shops, and street vendors. The population is around 215,000, and the center of town is the safest and most populated part of the city. My Airbnb was located right in the middle of town and everything I needed was within walking distance. I quickly knew this would be my home for the next several months.

San Cristobal is in the mountains at an elevation of 6,900 feet, so it was a bit cold in mid-January. During the day it would get into the high 50’s or low 60’s, but at night it would dip down into the 40’s. I learned the hard way that most accommodations in Mexico are not heated, and space heaters run up electricity bills very quickly. I couldn’t warm up in the Airbnb unless I was in bed fully clothed, under several comforters. The water in the shower was barely lukewarm, and I could see my breath in the bathroom when I would shower. I had rented the Airbnb for 2 weeks, but realized after a day or two that I would never make it that long. I joined a couple Facebook groups for expats in San Cristobal and put up a post looking for accommodations for the next couple months. I got a reply from another traveler who was staying at a villa nearby that he said he was very happy with and was affordable. We talked, and he told me the villas had previously been fully booked, but one of the villas had opened up unexpectedly because the previous tenants had been evicted a couple days prior. He put me in contact with the landlady, and I set up a time the next day to look at it. The villa was a couple blocks away from my Airbnb, in a gated community staffed by 24-hour security. The villa was beautiful and spacious. It had three levels, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a full kitchen and living room, and a fireplace. It wasn’t heated but felt much warmer during the day than my Airbnb, and I felt reassured by the wood stove. I was shocked when I found out the rent was $400 per month. I worked it out with my Airbnb host so that I could cancel the remainder of my reservation and get a partial refund, and a couple days later moved into my villa. I committed to three months upfront, with the option to extend for longer if I decided. 

One weekend a couple weeks into my stay in San Cristobal, I met a couple other travelers at an ecstatic dance event, and we ended up spending the evening hanging out. Hardly anyone was dancing at the event, so we left and went to a nearby restaurant for snacks and drinks. While I was talking to them, a girl brought up that her tourist visa was expiring because she wasn’t given the full six months when she arrived in Mexico. Americans and foreigners from many other countries can typically stay in Mexico for six months at a time on a tourist visa, which I was aware of from my previous visits. Upon arrival in the country, you are given a sheet of paper to fill out, and your “visa” is the small stub at the bottom of the form which is stamped at immigration and given back to you and must be returned to immigration upon leaving the country. I was under the understanding that the six months was automatic, but after talking with this girl I learned that some immigration officers had recently started giving random amounts of time that were less than six months. And if you stayed beyond the allotted time on your visa, you could be arrested and thrown in Mexican jail. 

When I got home that night, I checked my visa and noticed that I was only given 90 days. I remembered being asked when I arrived how long I was staying. I wasn’t sure at the time, and just told them three months not thinking it mattered. I started researching whether it was possible to extend the visa and ended up coming across recent stories of other travelers who had ended up in jail because they were given less than the standard 180 days and like me, weren’t aware that was even a possibility. The police and immigrations officers in Mexico are corrupt to say the least, and some of the stories I read were terrifying. Immigration offers were targeting tourist buses around touristy areas like Cancun, Tulum, etc. and pulling them over to check visas. If any of the tourists were discovered with an expired visa, they were immediately arrested and put in jail. Their personal belongings were taken, and they were not given a phone call. The only way to get out is to pay the officers with bribe money. Those who didn’t have money ended up in jail for months or even years. 

I contacted my landlady to let her know that I would have to shorten my stay, and she told me that I could go to the local immigration office to request an extension on my visa. I researched this but couldn’t find any definitive answers. A few days later I headed to the immigration office in San Cristobal, where I was told that there was no option to extend a tourist visa. My only option would be to cross the border and go to Guatemala, Belize, or the US for 72 hours and return to Mexico and obtain a new visa. I investigated doing this, and ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the hassle because I only really wanted an additional month. I was working a lot of hours and didn’t have the extra time to take a trip to the border. I found out later though, that there were ways around this (more bribes) and ultimately did end up extending my stay – which I’ll get to later.

Chiapas is a unique state in Mexico, for a few reasons. In the past it was a part of Guatemala, until 1824 when Mexico “took” Chiapas from Guatemala. Chiapas is still currently considered somewhat of an independent state, because of the Zapatista Army of National Liberation, known as the Zapatistas, a far left political and militant group that controls a substantial amount of territory in Chiapas. The Zapatistas are primarily made up of rural indigenous people, who have been “at war” with the Mexican state since 1994. If the Mexican government attempts to assert too much control over the state of Chiapas, the group will retaliate with violent protests that regularly result in road closures, armed takeovers, and even shootings. Because the Mexican government does not have much control or influence, the state has many issues beyond the violence. Chiapas is also one of the poorest states in Mexico. The water is highly contaminated, and isn’t safe to use the water to cook with, wash vegetables, brush your teeth with, etc. The contaminated water source and poverty has also led to a diabetes epidemic because Coca-Cola is cheaper than filtered water, so much of the population drinks coke instead of water. It is common for travelers to get water poisoning when visiting Chiapas, and I had the unfortunate luck of experiencing it more than once. I later learned that the best way to clean fresh fruits and vegetables is to soak them in a mixture of filtered water, apple cider vinegar, and baking soda.

The poverty also meant that things were very cheap, especially in comparison to prices in the United States, which was the reason for my cheap rent. Meals, groceries, and entertainment were also very cheap, which was a nice benefit for me since I was still paying rent and other bills back at home. I stayed busy working during the weekdays, but prioritized getting out for meals once a day, and as often as possible on the weekends for yoga classes, sound healings, and other wellness workshops. I also had the opportunity to take a couple day trips. 

San Juan Chamula

The first day trip I took was to the indigenous village of San Juan Chamula, which is just outside of San Cris. While there are organized tours to Chamula, I didn’t end up taking one, but instead visited the village with Edwinn, the traveler who had connected me with the villa. Edwinn is a Mexican native but is an avid traveler and has spent many years living and working in the United States. He was on his second or third visit to San Cris and had been to Chamula in the past, so I had my own personal tour guide. We took a collectivo, a public van transportation service that Mexican locals use to get around, to a hiking point just outside of Chamula. We went on a short hike before making our way to the village. Once we arrived, we explored the local market, and eventually made our way into the Church of St. Juan Bautista, which is one of the main attractions of the village. Edwinn told me that the indigenous people of Chamula allow tourists to enter the village only during the daytime because they need the tourism to survive, but foreigners are not welcome to stay overnight and Chamula can be a dangerous place after daylight hours. Visiting the church was a surreal experience. Their religion is said to be a Catholic institution; however, this was unlike any church I have ever experienced. We spent about an hour inside, observing the rituals. There were massive amounts of incense burning inside the church, filling it with smoke. Hay covered the cement floors, and the walls were lined with glass cases that held statues of saints and other religious figures. We watched while a group of people removed a statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe and changed her clothes, a ritual that took 20 or 30 minutes. Other families were huddled together performing interesting rituals where they would brush away the hay to expose the cement floor, and line up several tall thin candles and adhere them to the floor with wax. They would then fill two small glasses with Coca-Cola and Posh, a homemade corn liquor, and set the glasses near the candles. At the start of the ritual, they lit all the candles and chanted a specific chant repeatedly until the candles burned all the way to the floor. Once the candles were gone, the wax was scraped from the floor and the leader of the ritual would drink the shots of Coca-Cola and Posh. He then grabbed a live chicken, which was being held by another member of the group, and sacrificed it. I couldn’t believe my eyes – he used his bare hands to remove its head. We made our way out of the church shortly after the sacrifice, shocked at what we had witnessed. We spent a bit more time exploring the village and the expansive cemetery before heading back to San Cris.

Sumidero Canyon & Chiapa de Corzo

The second day trip I took was a guided tour to Sumidero Canyon, with a stop in the town of Chiapa de Corzo. Sumidero Canyon is a beautiful national park a couple hours outside of San Cris. They offer boat tours along the river inside large, impressive canyons, where spider monkeys and river crocs can be seen. I didn’t realize I booked the tour with a Spanish speaking driver and guide, which made for an uncomfortable and stressful day. I knew some Spanish, but spent much of the day confused and almost lost my group twice. The other people on the tour were Spanish speakers as well, but during our lunch stop in Chiapa de Corzo, a couple who spoke some English talked with me a bit and we walked around together and listened to live instrumental music and shopped at the local market. 

Palenque

One of the highlights of my excursions was an overnight trip to Palenque. Palenque is a city located in the southern part of the state and the home of a well-known archeological site that houses the ruins of an expansive ancient Mayan city. I hired a private driver to take me on the overnight trip, and the drive from San Cristobal was around six hours. We stopped for a couple hours in Agua Azul, a small village with a cluster of beautiful turquoise waterfalls, where I had lunch and walked around the town and did some shopping. We also stopped along the way to see huge waterfall called Misol-Ha. We arrived in Palenque around dusk, and I spent the evening on the grounds of my hotel, which was beautiful. There was a large pool, lush gardens, and cabanas for guestrooms. In the morning, we left early to spend a couple hours at the ruins before starting our drive back to San Cris. I decided to hire a guide while at the ruins, who walked around with me for about an hour and excitedly explained the history of the ruins. They were some of the most impressive ruins I’ve seen in my life, right up there with Macchu Picchu. After my guide left, I spent about another hour exploring the ruins and the adjacent jungle. The ruins in the park have been restored, but it is speculated that more than a thousand structures are still covered by the jungle. In hindsight, I wish I had spent more time in Palenque – it was one of the most beautiful places I’ve visited in Mexico.

An Unexpected Love Affair

A few weeks into my stay in San Cristobal, I went to a vegan restaurant for lunch and the owner of the restaurant approached me to ask about my meal. At first she spoke to me in Spanish, but when I told her I my Spanish wasn’t good, she started talking with me in English. There was something about her that stuck in my mind. I ended up returning to the restaurant the following week, and we talked more. I decided to ask her to join me for dinner or a drink sometime, and to my surprise she accepted. Now, this is a very long story that has a separate blog entry of its own, so I won’t go into much detail here. But in a nutshell, Yajaira and I fell in love more quickly than I had ever before experienced. I had dated women in the past, but I had never fallen this deeply in love with another woman. Unfortunately, it was complicated. She was married and had a 7-year-old daughter at the time. Her marriage had been on the rocks for many years, but she stayed for her daughter. There were many obstacles standing in the way of us being together, but love is not logical, and we made the choice to make the most of our limited time together. 

Every moment Yajaira and I could see each other, we did. We spent much of the next month in my villa in a bubble of love. We knew my visa expiration was approaching, but being a Mexican native she knew how to work the system and had some ideas up her sleeve. Before moving to San Cris six months earlier, Yajaira had lived for many years on the island of Carmen, Campeche on the Yucatan peninsula. She had to make a trip back there for a couple days, and she invited me along. Those four days were some of the most fun times I’ve experienced. We took collectivos, taxis, and buses across several Mexican states, ate authentic Mexican food, and I got to experience it all with the guidance of a native. While we were in Carmen, we enjoyed drinks on the beach, went on a boat ride and saw dolphins, and spent time with some of Yajaira’s family and friends. She treated me like a princess. She also happened to have a friend who worked closely with the immigration office in Carmen, and he was able to work his magic to get me a new FMM card (tourist visa), but for a price. I can’t remember now how much I paid, but I believe it ended up being around $300 USD. 

When we returned to San Cris, I made arrangements to extend my stay at the villa for an additional month so Yajaira and I could have more time together. Unfortunately the villa I had been staying in was already booked, but I was able to move into a smaller studio apartment across from the villa. At that point it didn’t matter where I was as long as I was with her. I wished our time together could have lasted forever, and I still sometimes wish I could return to those magical days, but all good things must come to an end. Although the relationship didn’t exactly end well after I departed San Cris, I will always look back on those couple months with warmth and fondness. 

Yucatan & Quintana Roo

Progreso

After returning home from my 4-month trip in Mexico during the first part of 2022, I knew I wanted to return in the fall. I decided not to return to San Cristobal, mainly because things fell apart between Yajaira and me a few weeks after I left Mexico, but also because I wanted to do more exploring. I had been interested in visiting Mérida, Yucatan for some time, and had heard really great things about it. There is a large population of expats, the photos are beautiful, and it is said to be one of the safest places in Mexico. I joined a couple Facebook groups for expats in Mérida and began to ask around about accommodations for the fall. I received a message back from a girl who had a condo for rent in Progreso. Progreso is a small beach town about an hour drive from Mérida, and where many Mérida locals spend the weekends. I hadn’t thought about going there but after doing some research, I decided to split up my trip and spend a month in Progreso, and a month in Mérida. I am very much a water person, and living in a landlocked state hadn’t allowed me much time at the ocean up until that point, so I decided it was time for some “real” ocean time. 

I rented the condo for the month of October and booked my flight. I ended up stranded in Houston for a night because my flight from Denver was delayed and there was only one flight to Mérida per day. I was rebooked the following day, and arrived that evening in Mérida and took a taxi to Progreso. The condo was spacious and quite nice. There were two bedrooms, a full kitchen and living room, and a small pool just outside the front window. The best part was that it just a 5-minute walk from the beach. I instantly felt a sense of calm. 

I can honestly say that Progreso is one of my favorite places I’ve visited so far. It is a cruise ship port the drops off tourists for a few hours at a time once or twice a week, but otherwise the only other tourists I regularly saw were Mexicans visiting from Mérida or other nearby cities. I don’t love visiting tourist destinations when I travel – I would much rather go somewhere where I can live and experience life as a local. Tourist destinations are not only overrun with tourists, but the prices are overinflated, and the food and entertainment are less authentic. 

The primary attraction in Progreso is the malecón, or the boardwalk. Beautiful restaurants and hotels line the malecón, along with local vendors selling trinkets on the beach. I ate some of the best seafood I’ve ever experienced in Progreso. The restaurants on the malecón are more expensive, but still very affordable compared to US standards. I did try out a few restaurants that were off the beaten path (a few blocks from the malecón) and they were also great for a much lower price. 

The condo was only a five-minute walk from the beach and the water was calm and very warm – perfect conditions for swimming. Except for the seaweed – there was a large amount of brown seaweed called sargassum, during that month. This is common and comes from the Great Atlantic Sargassum Belt. Some days were worse than others and the seaweed would accumulate along the edge of the water, and workers would rake it into piles each day. But nothing could stop me – and many others – from swimming. The beach was quiet in the mornings and would get busier as the days went on, so I would start my day with an hour-long swim or float in the ocean before work. 

I had a heavier than normal workload during that month because I had hired a contractor that started working with me at the beginning of the month. I spent three weeks training her over Zoom calls, only for her to quit without notice and leave me with a mountain of work to complete during the last week of the month. But my daily visits to the ocean, and the incredible seafood I was eating each day kept me in good spirits. On my days off I would spend time on the beach relaxing on a beachfront chair or bed, watching people and seagulls. The seagulls would “float” in the wind and looked so peaceful and happy. 

I took a couple day trips during my time in Progreso, to a nearby town called Chelem. Chelem is about a 30-minute drive from Progreso and is a bit smaller with more of a local vibe. There was no malecón, but the beach and ocean were incredible. Hardly anyone else was at the beach during the two days I visited, and the water was calm and clear blue. The restaurants weren’t as good though, and it was challenging to find a taxi. I had hired a private taxi driver recommended by my landlady for my first trip, and apparently he spent the afternoon at the bar while he waited for me. On the way home, he was noticeably drunk, drinking a can of beer while driving, and pulled over twice to pee on the side of the road. The second time I went I decided to take an Uber. I had no problem getting an Uber from Progreso, but when I was ready to return, I couldn’t find a driver. I also tried DiDi, Mexico’s other popular rideshare, but they had no drivers available either. As the sun started to set, I started to panic, but decided to go into a restaurant and ask for help. I spoke broken Spanish and asked for a taxi. The bartender made a call, and a driver picked me up within 15 minutes. 

As with any visit to another country, the trip wasn’t without its challenges. The condo was far from soundproof, and there was regular noise from other condos and the pool. The people above would party regularly and throw cigarette butts and beer cans into my yard. There was also a family of large cockroaches living in the kitchen, which is common in humid climates. I had to hide my fruit bowl at night, otherwise I’d wake up to holes eaten out of my fruit. My girlfriend at the time, Beth, and I had broken a week into my trip during an argument over the phone. Yajaira later came for an impromptu visit for a weekend. We had an amazing reunion, but it ultimately ended up reopening the wound that hadn’t yet healed, and I was left with a double broken heart. 

Overall though, Progreso was lovely. The weather was pleasant – 80’s during the day, 60’s at night, and humidity that comes naturally in an ocean climate. The condo was comfortable, and the landlady was helpful and responsive. I felt I had a nice balance between a cultural experience and the conveniences I needed to feel at home. And having the ocean so close was a true gift. I couldn’t help but to think again that I need to live closer to the ocean. Or what a dream it would be to have a second home in a place like Chelem or Progreso. 

Playa del Carmen

After my first month in Progreso and before I headed to Mérida, I spent a week in Playa del Carmen because a friend of mine from Denver was there for a wedding. I had also met another girl while I was in Guatemala the year before, who was originally from California, and was living in Playa with her boyfriend at the time. 

Reagan, my friend from Denver, was staying at an all-inclusive resort for the wedding, and invited me to stay with her for a couple nights and be her wedding “date.” After the wedding, we had booked an Airbnb for a couple extra nights so we could explore Playa together. I won’t go into a lot of detail about the resort, but I’ll say that I learned once again that all-inclusive resorts are not my style. The resort was beautiful – it was an eco-resort with cenotes, pools, and a lot of vegetation and wildlife. Before and after the wedding, Reagan and I spent a good amount of time floating in the pools and cenotes. The food though, was average and far from authentic. The staff spoke English and the ATMs dispensed US dollars. Nothing about the resort even felt as though we were in another country, except for the wildlife. I’ve never understood why people leave the country to go somewhere that is exactly like home. To me, it cheapens the experience of traveling, and robs the traveler of precious memories and experiences of being in another country and culture. But, to each his own.

Once we left the resort, we got a taste of the “real Playa.” Now, I will say that Playa is much more touristy than places I generally travel to, but I was impressed to see that much of the authentic Mexican culture was still very present. Kayla, my other friend who lives in Playa, met up with us a couple times and took us to some delicious restaurants and a beautiful local beach. The beach there was by far the highlight. The water was warm, calm, and clear. We spent as much time as possible in the ocean. 

We also happened to be in Playa during Día de Los Muertos, so we got to participate in some of the festivities. In the main square, there was a celebration with live music, intricate ofrendas, local vendors selling handmade goods, and of course street food. I generally stay away from street food, but I felt safe with Kayla’s guidance since she lived there. We tried elote (grilled corn on the cob covered in mayo, cotija cheese, chili powder and lime juice) and marquesitas (crunchy rolled crepe like desserts that are filled with sweet goodies like cajeta, Nutella, jam, fruit, and edam cheese). Both were delectable.

On Reagan’s last day, we walked around and did some shopping while being fed shots of mezcal (great selling technique) and swimming in the ocean. Unfortunately, the weather started to turn while we were still in the ocean, and a downpour started as soon as we got out of the water. We found protection under some trees as the rain came down in sheets. Thankfully it didn’t last long, but we were drenched including our towels and bags. We walked back through a strange jungly area where we were eaten by mosquitos. Reagan had an allergic reaction to the mosquitos, and she was covered in painful swollen bites. Thankfully she was able to mitigate the swelling by resting and putting her legs up the wall before she boarded her plane back to Denver. 

I stayed in Playa for a few more days at Kayla’s apartment. It was on the outskirts of Playa in a gated community, and I didn’t have access to the beach, restaurants, or transportation, so I spent a couple days catching up on work before I headed back to the Yucatan.

Mérida

After my tranquil month in Progreso and a week with friends in Playa del Carmen, I finally arrived in Mérida. I had rented an Airbnb that was about a 15-minute walk to the city center with all the attractions and restaurants. Most importantly, it had a pool. Mérida was known for being quite hot that time of year, so I knew I’d need relief from the heat. 

Unfortunately, Mérida was not what I had hoped it would be. It was a large, crowded, bustling city, full of noise, traffic, and pollution. My Airbnb was located in a neighborhood that wasn’t convenient to any restaurants, shops, or attractions, and my 15-minute walk to the city center was unpleasant to say the least. The buildings were tall and lined the streets in a way that reflected and magnified the traffic noise. Black clouds of pollution engulfed the buses, cars, and motorbikes. I did find some great restaurants where I enjoyed delicious meals, both vegan and non-vegan. I also did a walking tour and explored some of the history and main attractions of the city. Mérida is a city with a lot of history, and beautiful colonial architecture. But something I’ve learned from my travels is that while I prefer to live in a city, I prefer travelling in smaller towns. They are much easier to navigate on foot and are less overwhelming to adjust to in a new culture and environment. 

I may have been happier if my accommodations were closer to the city center and I didn’t have to endure that hellacious walk every day. To add insult to injury, I couldn’t even get reprieve from the noise inside the Airbnb. The traffic noise carried directly into the apartment, and I could only drown it out when I was sleeping with earplugs and white noise on full blast. I shared a wall with a very sweet lady who had a terror of a two-year old, and I could constantly hear him screaming and pounding on things when they were home. Thankfully she worked and would take him to a babysitter during the day. I tried my best to focus on my work during the days, and cooled down each afternoon in the unheated pool after my overwhelming walk to the city center for lunches. But after about a week and a half, I started to lose my sanity.

I contacted my previous landlady from Progreso, and she said the condo was available and I was welcome to come back. I contacted my Airbnb host, a young American girl, but she wasn’t as easy to deal with. I had rented the condo for the full month, which was nonrefundable at that point. I tried to negotiate with her and explained that I was struggling to find a peaceful moment to keep my mind focused on my work, but she wouldn’t budge. The next day though, she had a change of heart and decided to honor my request to cancel my reservation early and gave me a partial refund. She said she felt guilty and wanted to help me out. She also explained her perspective due to the limitations of Airbnb and their excessive fees for property owners. Nonetheless, I was extremely grateful for the opportunity to return to Progreso for the final two weeks of my trip.

I packed up that weekend and got an Uber back to Progreso. As soon as I arrived back at the condo, I knew I had made the right decision. I spent those final couple weeks going to the ocean daily and filling up on delicious seafood and cheladas. By the time I returned to Denver, I felt more grounded and connected than I had in months. Even as I’m writing this, I am dreaming of returning to Progreso or Chelem sooner than later.