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.
