Tulum – Love at First Sight
My first encounter with this city felt like a personal revelation. The moment I stepped out of the bus station, I knew I had arrived somewhere that understood me. Between the perfectly curated design, the impossibly beautiful people, and the electronic atmosphere, I had two days that were just a glimpse—but even then, I knew: I’d be back.
📍 Tulum, Mexico | 30/11/2022
On a Mission
Final morning in Bacalar—thank God. We set off for Tulum.
To be honest? I was excited. I had heard so much about this place, this incredible town, and my expectations were sky-high. I wanted to explore, to walk around, to see everything—where’s the coolest spot, what’s worth it, what’s overrated. I came here to devour it all.
Other people here were on vacation. I was on a mission.
First stop—food. A great start. I was in my own world, exhausted from hearing them speak Spanish again. And then we arrived… at yet another vegan restaurant. The only reason I didn’t throw a fit? The small "/vegetarian" note on the menu. Okay, I usually eat vegetarian. Deep breath. We sat down. I had pesto pasta, which was nice. They ate things that my food would typically eat.
Next stop—the Mayan ruins. Cool, I’d heard about them. But they were pretty far. How were we getting there? We could take a colectivo or rent bikes for more flexibility.
I don’t think I’ve ridden a bike since I was seven.
"And you think you still remember how?" someone asked.
The saying goes, "it’s like riding a bike," so I should remember. The real question was—did I want to?
Answer: No.
We hopped off the colectivo, and immediately, a guy jumped on us with a sales pitch. My friends, sweet tourists, listened intently. Me? An Israeli on a mission.
"How much?"
He threw out some nonsense—550 pesos, "full access." They looked alarmed. I reassured them.
"What are the other options? Without the full access?"
"Uh… entrance to the site is 85 pesos," he mumbled.
We started walking.
"So where do we buy the tickets?" one of them asked.
"Not from him." I tried to make that clear.
The site was stunning. Truly a beautiful place. The weather was perfect—not too hot, with a cool breeze. They stayed behind to read every single sign. I moved on.
I finished exploring and stepped outside. I waited. And waited some more. Then I noticed—my phone battery was dead.
I tried calling, texting—nothing.
"Well, you wanted to be alone, didn’t you?" a voice in my head teased.
"Yes," I suddenly realized. Why am I even waiting for them? I’d been waiting for them all day. Waiting for them to get ready in the morning, to finish eating, to withdraw cash at the bank, to explain to me what they’d been discussing in Spanish for the past hour.
What was I—some little kid waiting for her parents?
I got up and started walking. I sent them a message: "You’re not answering, so I’m heading out. See you later at the hotel."
I walked along the beach, feeling the white sand under my feet, taking in the leaning palm trees, the most beautiful people I had ever seen.
I wished I could take pictures.
The beach ended. I reached a road. I kept walking. No idea where I was going, no clue what was at the end of the road. Instinctively, I wanted to check Google Maps. No. Just be.
I was enjoying every second. Then I realized—the sun was setting, and there were no streetlights. Or sidewalks.
Ahead of me, an older woman was walking. I wondered if she was lost too. And if she wanted to be lost, like me. After a long walk, she stopped a taxi. I asked where she was headed—maybe we could share the ride, since I had no idea how to get back.
"To the center."
Perfect. Same here.
Back at the hotel, I charged my phone. Still no response from them. So I kept going. I explored Tulum at night, wandered through rooftop bars and restaurants scattered across the city.
Mission accomplished.
📍 Tulum, Mexico | 01/12/2022
Tulum, My Love
Ah, Tulum.
It’s everything they say—and more. I was afraid to fall for this city, and for good reason. After visiting, I immediately knew: I could be so happy living here.
From the moment I stepped out of the bus station, everything felt different. The people here are gorgeous—seriously. No surprise, considering Tulum has its own unique, stunning fashion style, and everyone here oozes insane amounts of effortless cool. The sand is whiter, the vibe is hypnotic, everything is more expensive—from restaurant meals to cocktails, from hotels to clothing.
Most restaurants and bars play incredible techno, and here I was, thinking reggaeton had taken over my soul. Turns out, I just needed to feel the right beat to remember how deeply techno fills me. Electronic music hits a different frequency in the brain. Some people just hear a boom—others hear enlightenment.
One of the main reasons I wanted to come to Mexico in the first place? Zamna Festival—Tulum’s legendary techno festival, a massive event made up of multiple parties running from late December to mid-January. Thousands of people from all over the world come here for it—it’s the peak of the season in Tulum.
I had already booked a hotel for that week, where I’d also celebrate my farewell party from Mexico. I came to Tulum now with a mission—to scout the city before the madness of December hit. And my research paid off: I changed my hotel location to a better one, locked in a scooter rental after price comparisons, and most importantly—got even more excited.
We spent the rest of the day at Akumal Beach, famous for snorkeling with sea turtles. After battling our way through an exhausting gauntlet of pushy salespeople at the main entrance, we finally made it into a beautiful beach area where we could relax, swim, or take a boat tour.
We grabbed snorkels, masks, and life jackets and set off to "search" for sea turtles. I say "search" because, let’s be real—you don’t actually need to look for them. These are practically pet turtles—they live right there by the shore, they’re not going anywhere. They even have some kind of ID tags on their legs (or… flippers?). Basically, they’re marked and probably live within a designated zone.
Visibility was terrible, the water was murky—but still, we saw a few turtles. Some tiny, some huge.
I went back to Playa alone.
For the first time, I finally worked up the courage to tell the people I was with that I wasn’t comfortable. They wanted to stay at the beach, and I’d rather be alone than feel alone. Huge difference.
I felt free.
Heading back home, I thought about something I once heard—we remember people mostly for how they made us feel.
I reflected on how they had made me feel—and hoped I wouldn’t remember these days in a bad light. Then, I thought about how I had made them feel—and hoped I hadn’t tainted their memories.
📸 In the photo: This is what I deserved. Because I’m rude and don’t ask for permission—especially when I’m hungry—I just took a bite, assuming it was cheese. It wasn’t cheese.
My short visit to Tulum touched me in ways I didn’t expect. Beyond the visual beauty—the white sand, the aesthetic restaurants, the effortlessly stylish people—I felt like I had found a place that spoke my emotional language.
The techno music in the restaurants resonated with my inner frequency, and the need to separate from the group taught me an important lesson: sometimes, it’s better to be alone than to feel alone.
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