Yes, it sounds like a Butthole Surfers song, but Mexican Christmas is what I did.
In Tulum, a strip of small indie shops, restaurants, and bars cooks in the Mexican sun, an hour away from Cancun, Tulum has sandy white beaches, bright blue water, and brilliant cabanas to boil your water in.
I have heard Tulum is trendy, that it is a hippie yoga haven. There is a massage parlor called Shambala and lower back tattoos galore. The shops sell flowy, colorful clothing that I wouldn’t be caught dead in.
On the beaches, iPod DJs play on the sand to blissed out young people, all tanning to the bone and charging up with can upon can of beer, beer, beer. All the beer.
Dogs run around, packless, looking up at the humans with a mixture of shame and supplication. “I have no wildness left in me; treat me with love,” they beg. Apparently there is one leash in Tulum.
The food is very good, especially at El Vegetariano and four star Cetli, but I recommend vomiting if you drink anything suspicious. Such as juice, tap water or anything not beer. Beer, beer, beer. Tequila is OK. All I want for Christmas is to not have my intestines cramp.
My advice? Rent a car, get an AirBNB, and people: never think you’re going to find parking at the airport on December 25th. This one had to pay $250 in parking or miss her flight… I digress. Tulum is a beauty, go!
