Freedom in the Yucatan

Location:
Mexico

Yucatan beach trip

By Christine Swint

Last fall depression haunted me. It froze my heart, it deprived me of sleep, it banished me from a decent meal. My usual wanderlust shrank, until a mere walk around the block with my dachshunds demanded great willpower. During the weeks of my recovery, I conjured images of my feet wading through breakers, a vast turquoise sea splayed out across the horizon. I saw myself strolling through a market, sampling fragrant mangos and papayas. Months later, my husband Sean and I eventually bought tickets for Mexico; I was ready to leave my home and complete my healing. Spending a week on the beach in the Yucatan Peninsula between Christmas and New Year’s Eve promised the warmth and freedom I craved. 

The day after Christmas darkened. The rain left black streaks on the trees trunks and the air was cold and damp. Retreating to my safe, cozy home seemed like a much better plan than traveling to Mexico. Sean and I drove that day to the notary public to sign our wills, which added to my doubts. Fortunately, the gentle prodding of my sisters and my mother-in-law encouraged me to travel.

Our destination was an ecological hotel, fifty-six miles west of Mérida. We intended to rent a car from the airport, but after waiting for an hour at the rental counter, the clerk said, “There are no more cars. Even if you have a reservation, there are no more cars”.

Now that the journey had begun, I welcomed adventure. I said to Sean, “Let’s take the bus.” He was game, so off we went. One cab ride and a three-hour bus ride later, we arrived in Celestún, a fishing village six miles from our hotel. The afternoon sun shined on a mocha and cream-colored church. Couples in the shade of mangroves conversed on benches in the zócalo, the main square found in every town across Mexico. Some young men were playing basketball across the street next to the church. We called the hotel from a pay phone, and soon Raimundo arrived to fetch us in a pickup truck. We proceeded to jostle our way down an unpaved road to Hotel Eco Paraíso. At this point Sean and I needed a major dose of paradise.

We found the cedar reception desk, gleaming in the last rays of the sun located in an open-air building made of whitewashed stones. The cone-shaped roof was thatched in the palapa-style, a Mayan invention. It was dusk when Sergio, the concierge, met us at the reception desk. “Welcome to Hotel Xixim”, he said. He was a tall, soft-spoken young man. 

I found out later that xixim (pronounced sheesheem) is the name of a seashell the Mayans used to represent the concept of zero. For Mayans, zero represented the cycle of life, death, and rebirth.

“Please let me toast your arrival with a glass of chaya juice” he continued. “Chaya is a leaf very similar to spinach. We mix it with fresh orange juice and honey. It is very good for your health”. 

Sergio took us to our bungalow, also a palapa. When we saw the twin hammocks facing the ocean, we figured the eight hours of traveling had been worth it. We swayed gently in the soft cotton hammocks and watched the sky turn a fiery orange, until Venus rose on the horizon and night fell. Later we walked the deserted beach under a veil of stars, the moon still low in the sky

For five days we dined on delicious Yucatecan cuisine: stuffed chayote, a kind of squash loaded with cheese, lots of fresh fish, breaded and fried, and Motuleño eggs, fried eggs on a crispy tortilla with ham, mushrooms, and black beans. Each morning we chose from many different kinds of fruit, including the delicate orange mamey, with flesh like butter, the saffron-colored sapote, and the fragrant mangos and papayas I had been dreaming about. 

We walked down the beach, with nothing on the horizon but sand dunes laced with pea-green vines. A way down the shoreline hundreds of ducks congregated daily for a communal salt-water bath, their jade feathers shining like gold in the afternoon sun. Once in the early evening we rode bikes down the sandy one-lane road. After riding long enough to work up a sweat, Sean said, “Let’s stop and listen.” In the stillness insects hummed and birds called. The cobalt sky rested on kelly-green scrub. The breeze against my face carried the scent of the sea.

One day we took a boat tour of the estuary near Celestún. Our guide, Alex, took us to see some fresh water springs, famous in the Yucatan. As Alex explained, the ecosystem, called a hummock, is unique to Florida, Cuba, and the Yucatan. Underground fresh water rivers bubble up, creating oases on the edge of the ocean. We witnessed a natural miracle as the springs shimmered in emerald swirls. Boys were jumping off the boardwalk for a refreshing swim, their parents snapping photos. 

Later, traveling over a mere two feet of water, we came upon a flock of pink flamingos. Bird lovers from all over the world come to the Yucatan to observe these birds in their natural habitat. We gazed up at their pink forms, flying with outstretched wings against an azure sky. Their parrot-like beaks looked like they had been dipped in black paint. Their long necks stretched out in front, and their matching long legs trailed behind in a straight line. They seemed simultaneously gawky and elegant in their furious flapping overhead. For an instant, my eyes trained on the line of flamingos across the sky, I recognized myself in them. In that moment, watching the pink flamingos, I felt free.

Later I chose for a souvenir a little wooden pink flamingo in flight. For me, this kitschy refrigerator magnet represented the freedom and ease I felt in Mexico, watching the flamingos fly. 

Further Information

Travel tips: If you find that there are no rental cars at the Merida airport, several private vans and taxi drivers will take you to Celestun. Negotiate the price before leaving. The local bus is a very long ride!

Must see/do at this place: Plan to spend a few days on the beach, but also spend a few nights in Merida. Reaching the best ruins, such as Citchen Itza, is easier from Merida.

The bird watching in Celestun is world renowned.

Go to the local market in Merida. It's very festive. You can find beautiful cotton hammoks there, as well as leather huaraches, a woven sandal.

You should avoid here: Hotel Xixim is a lovely place. However, the bicycles they have for use there are somewhat rickety. I didn't mind my ride too much, but my husband went crazy with his gears that kept shifting out of place.