Tulum También
On this trip, I made a terrible error. My routine is to download photos from my camera daily, after which I format (clear) its memory card. However, I deviated from my routine by partially uploading images we needed for a client, not all of the images as usual. It wasn't until we got stateside that I realized that an entire day of photos was missing — dolphins, sea turtles, and the small fishing town of Punta Allen (located south of Tulum in the Sian Kan) gone.
What is disappointing is that I often sacrifice part of my experience by supplanting my eyes with a lens. Later, as I cull and curate the images, I find that I really spend time with the moment. It’s a distillation process — capturing essence and feelings that may have otherwise gone unnoticed or forgotten.
Regardless, Tulum was just as charming the second time around — except for floating scourge, sargassum. Miles and miles of beach were absolutely inundated with it. Locals affectionally refer to it as “sargaso”. Their inflection suspiciously pejorative. The usually turquoise jewel of sea was mottled with mats of yellow and brown sargaso, leaching a rusty pigment into the surf as it decomposes.
Down the beach, we witnessed the release of baby sea turtles. If possible, hatchlings are collected and released in the evening hours to mitigate air raids from sea gulls, pelicans, and frigate birds that patrol the beaches during the day. At zero-hour staff from the hotel next door cleared a path through the sargaso, the equivalent of the Atlantic wall for the flailing hatchlings, thus increasing their odds of survival in a hostile world.
Inland the next day we visited famed Dos Ojos cenote. We arrived early and enjoyed a moment alone with the pure crisp water. The cenote so clear you felt like you were floating midair. Scuba divers like penguins waddled to the water’s edge, and we watched as trails of bubbles and spotlights disappeared into the stony abyss. Occasionally a beam of light would escape through the underworld’s limestone teeth.
In the Sian Kaan, our guide Cesar lead us through the ruins of Muyil out into the patchwork of fresh water lagoons shaped by islands of emerald mangroves hovering above the waterline. Through them run natural canals once used by the ancients. We eventually abandoned the boat and floated a section of meandering water. Long stems of banana orchids stretched from underneath the web of mangroves, each dangling a white freckled blossom with its rich creamy vanilla scent. At one of the countless bends, we paused to lather ourselves in sulfur-rich clay. A true spa day.
Further into the Sian Kaan, on the outskirts of Punta Allen we jumped into a boat which took us into the brackish lagoons that connect with the sea. Families of dolphins lingered at the surface undeterred by our presence, occasionally disappearing below the surface to search for crustaceans on the white sand below. Sea turtles cruised the grassy shallows along the coast snatching quick breathes with audible gasps.
At dock, I found myself shirtless, and shoeless meandering down the compressed sand road of Punta Allen. A couple of local restaurants cater to the small groups of tourists. One smiling woman served up meticulous little cups of Cuban coffee from her open-air shack while the abandon lighthouse slept on the point. Part of me wanted to stay right there, the simple part, the calm part.
Later that evening, we all sat down with our host and sipped small glasses of tequila, slowly draining the tall blue bottle of its golden reposado. Down the main drag we soaked up the spirits with some of Arca’s epicurean dishes. Sizzling bones filled with salted marrow accompanied with slices of moist and airy bread.
The rest of the days were spent taking photos of clothing with Savannah along the beach and at our lovely residence at Mahayana Tulum. We would ride a bike down the road to grab a bite or comb the beach in the afternoon.
Leaving Tulum is difficult; you fall into rhythm with it. You walk a little slower and you breathe a little deeper. Your skin tans. Your hair cuts loose. Your feet and its phalanges run free. It’s pretty close to, what I imagine is, homeostasis. The last morning was spent walking the beach and absorbing the last sun rise. Light skips and scatters across the surface of the sea — bright but diffuse. The moist coastal atmosphere softens it. Close your eyes and smile, and you can feel it on you. Right before our departure mother nature changed her mind and let loose with a spectacle of rain and roaring thunder. Droplets like finger tips played the fronds of every palm. Colossal clouds towered like titans. A lovely salutation full of fanfare.
