Having flown direct from London and Lisbon to Cancún, we spent the first and last nights in Puerto Morelos before flying to and from Tuxtla Gutiérrez. The first night’s beach resort, Acamaya Reef Cabañas, has since closed. It was a low budget beach resort on its last legs, but charming and comfortable nonetheless. It was surrounded by massive luxury resorts, which kind of spoiled the bare-bones beauty of the place, though. The last night we stayed at Aldea Maya Ha, a jungle retreat on the cenote route about 10 minutes from Puerto Morelos. I loved the stone-masonry huts and rooms. The place had small cenotes you could just about swim in, and before we left for the airport I took a goodbye dip. It felt amazing, and I didn’t take a shower after. I wanted the vibe of the place to stick to me forever.
On the plane my mind was racing. I immediately started researching Chiapas, Quintana Roo, Campeche and Yucatán. What was it like to live there? What were the property prices? What did I need to invest as foreigner in Mexico? Could I volunteer in Chiapas? So many questions, and I gradually found out the answers. All I know is that when I got home, I was so sad, and I cried because all I wanted to do was go back. As I stood on my balcony in Beckenham, it felt surreal. It felt as if I had brought back the energy of Mexico under my skin, and part of me was still there. How could this be? I’ve been to so many countries before, and I never felt this way before. Sure, it’s always tough having to get back to work after a holiday, but this was something new. There was a certain urgency about changing my lifestyle.
I was so touched by the people, their freedom, the nature, history and culture, that I couldn’t imagine myself living any other way. There was something about Mexico that reminded me of what the Algarve was like 40 years ago before mass tourism propelled the region into “economic prosperity” and the dissolution of the already fragile local culture. When I was a kid there were still thatched houses in Quarteira and most fences were made of stone. There was a sense of closeness, smallness and familiarity that I missed. I was tired of travelling the world and was looking to lay down roots.
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