As I passed the utopian posters in the airport reading, “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey,” with happy people frozen in time on picture-perfect beaches, I couldn’t help but wonder: how realistic is this?
The airport itself was a stark contrast to the posters that adorn its walls. Frenzied travelers swarmed in and out of serpentine lines, babies cried from confusion, and anxiety-ridden people jumped from door to door trying to make their flight.
I watched the chaos from afar, perched atop my little suitcase next to a duty-free store. I slipped my headphones out of my bag and turned them on, subsequently drowning out the cacophony of noise around me. The sound of rolling luggage and incessant chatter diminished, and I was left in my own bubble of thoughts. I spent my time watching scenes unfold in front of me: good-bye hugs, frantic shoppers, and screams of people reuniting. It was a moment where I stood as an observer, watching the world blur. For a second, I was still, but the moment the gate agent called for boarding, I joined the inevitable chaos that came with traveling.
Departure
I was joined in my travels by my mom, my aunt and my grandma; we were headed to Playa Del Carmen, Mexico. During our flight, my grandma took out her phone and began a virtual tour of the place we were staying at. It was a beautiful apartment complex with a balcony and an infinity pool on the roof. The pictures, similar to the idyllic airport posters, featured picture-perfect views. As she swiped through the 64 available photos, I saw the immaculate design of the apartment–pristine white walls, a perfectly tucked bed, and a bowl of display fruit that existed purely for aesthetics. It was all beautiful, but seemingly curated.
At 4 p.m EST, we arrived in Playa Del Carmen. As I stepped out of the airport in my winter hoodie, sweatpants, and long sleeve shirt, I was welcomed with the near 100°F weather.
Day One: The Cenotes
My aunt, in her enthusiasm of our arrival, had planned out the first day’s adventures: “Cenote hopping.” Cenotes—natural sinkholes formed by the collapse of limestone are unique to the Yucatán Peninsula in Mexico. These natural water sources were critical in the development of Mayan culture: Mayans believed that Cenotes were openings to the underworld, and they thus became a place for sacrificial offerings in Mayan society.
Earlier that morning, I had put on my bathing suit, tightly woven two braids in my hair, and packed the day’s necessities into a bag. Our cab driver, set to arrive at 9 a.m., was fashionably late. In his defense, as he later mentioned, he was on “Mexican time.” As the car pulled up to the first Cenote, Dos Ojos, trees lined the entrance path. Monkeys swung across the branches in the distance, and there was a quiet chatter of animals communicating. One monkey, a quick fan-favorite, scampered into the main area near the entrance of the Cenote. He wasn’t scared of people; when I approached him, he swung within a foot of me and simply stared, observing the dozens of pairs of eyes fixed in his direction. The monkey then disappeared behind a tree and promptly returned with a banana, which, after showing it off to the crowd, he ate while sitting in the nook of a tree.
Dos Ojos was evidently a tourist attraction, but it maintained a pure and untouched look. The water was still and sparkled in various shades of blue, and the sun lightly peeked through the canopy of trees overhead. On one end of the Cenote was an open cave with a swing fastened to the top. On the other end, a stone pathway led to various other pools of water to explore.
I slipped goggles over my eyes and dipped my feet into the water. Tiny Garra Rufa’s, otherwise known as “doctor fish,” gathered around me, eager to investigate the newcomers. I looked down at them as I sat on the ledge, and imagined what their life must be like; the absence of things to do, the quiet sloshing of the water, and new visitors to swim to every day.
I plunged my head underwater and observed. Below me, rocks were arranged in a mosaic-like pattern. A light layer of algae covered some of the rocks, painting them in a speckled dark green shade. The sun filtered in through the water, highlighted the water a neon blue hue. Around me, I could see ripples in the water where other people had swam, but they made no noise; the only sound I could hear was that of the water trickling into crevices within the cave. We swam around for a while, and then, after taking a mandatory group photo—as requested by my aunt—we continued onto our next stop of our “Cenote hopping” day.
The second Cenote, Casa Cenote, was far bigger. Close to the entrance, there was a small restaurant selling snacks to visitors. However, we didn’t purchase anything. We were saving up for our final destination–a restaurant for dinner. Directly in front of the food place was a ledge off of which you could jump into the water. I looked over the ledge at the body of water roughly 15 feet below me. The stillness of the water was disturbed by the warm raindrops that started falling down. The rain triggered a cascade of green leaves to fall from the branches of the overhead trees, bringing about the distinct smell of pure nature. I shifted my gaze further out and saw my mom resting on an expansive rock in the center of the Cenote. I wave to her and clasped my aunt’s hand, who was standing next to me as I observed the scenery. I gave my aunt a signal and we began racing towards the ledge off which we jumped into the water below.
We stayed there until a second gentle rain started falling.
Towards the end of the day, our driver took us to a restaurant overlooking the beach as per my request. My mom and grandma were quick to head to the ocean, whilst my aunt and I relaxed in the beach chairs and took photos. I called over the waiter and asked for a virgin Piña Colada, to which he smiled and agreed. After all, what’s a vacation without having my favorite vacation drink?
As I ate my dinner and sipped on my drink, I watched as the sun creeped into the ocean, and the sky overhead painted itself with pink and orange hues. People filtered off of the beach for the night, and the place became quiet. After our hearty meal, we followed suit, leaving the beach and heading back to our hotel for the night.
Day 2: Vacation-Lifestyle
On day two, we wanted to immerse ourselves into the “vacation-lifestyle.” For my family, this meant tanning, relaxing on beaches, and getting our hair braided.
Step one: braiding. Located along Tenth Avenue in Playa Del Carmen, vendors on the sides of the street sat advertising the various hairstyles they can give you. As we approached a vendor, we were quickly handed a laminated sheet full of braid options we could choose from. Of these options, I chose to get two braids with golden accessories on them at the top of my head while my mom asked for three small braids on the side of her head.
We sat down in two gray plastic chairs and the workers began the process. They applied some ‘hairspray,’ which my mom and I could only describe as feeling and smelling like a sweet fruit tea with a hint of honey. It was sticky but it dried quickly, thus turning our hair became rock solid. What this ‘hairspray’ was exactly, we don’t know, but it made for a funny experience to look back on.
15 minutes later, we had our ‘vacation braids.’ My mom and I showed them off to our family members and then proceeded to walk down the most touristy street in Playa Del Carmen. Though we may have been the most stereotypical tourists, we were having fun.
Step two: exploring the beaches.
Playa Del Carmen is known for its beautiful, crystal clear waters. Around the area of our hotel, any which direction you walk in you are almost guaranteed to end up at a beach. My family took this “walk and see what happens” approach, and 20 minutes into our walk, we came across a small alleyway. Beach bikes rested along the sides of the alley, and sand was stuck in between the pebbles in the road. We walked along, the sand thickening with every step, until finally we found the end of the alley. In front of us, a beautiful white sand beach was revealed, with small shells scattered around and the water of the clearest blue crashed at the shore.
It was early morning when we had arrived. We were just in time to witness the gentle morning light as it spread across the empty beach. The sky turned from navy to a bright blue in the span of a few minutes. As if on que, people started to arrive at the beach and lay out their towels for the day.
Near the back end of the beach, next to a row of palm trees, vendors began setting up their stands. The one directly behind us was a coconut stand. The man behind the stand yelled “Coconuts! One dollar! One dollar! Come get your coconuts!” His enthusiasm was clear; my enthusiasm even more so and I skipped over to the stand to indulge in his selection of coconuts.
I gave him my dollar and in return he gave me a coconut and a straw. I skipped back over to my family and we enjoyed our nice cold coconut on a perfect beach day. After hours of tanning (the third step), we went to a beautifully themed restaurant where I enjoyed a bowl of yogurt with hand cut fruits. My family and I spent this time sharing photos from the day and laughing about the fruit tea hairspray from the morning. Our hair was still, in fact, rock solid.
Day 3: Shopping and Browsing Downtown Playa del Carmen
The third day was largely spent on shopping. Playa del Carmen had a renowned downtown area, and we were keen to stroll down 5th Avenue—for the hundredth time—the pedestrian street packed with boutiques, cafes, and shops.
We started the day with breakfast at a local restaurant, where I ate fruit and honey crêpes whilst the rest of my family sipped on coffee. Then we walked through the shops, where we found everything from handmade jewelry and handwoven textiles to unique decorations for the house. My aunt has liking for handmade bracelets, and she and I ended up getting a matching pair from a store that specialized Indian-style accessories. The bracelet was macramé, with various colored evil eyes strung through it—evil eyes are a prominent aspect of Indian culture. It is said that wearing an evil eye can protect you from the harmful effects of the negative gaze and other negative energies.
Along with bracelets, the store can a collection of scarves, clothes, and wooden instruments. As we were leaving, a colorful blue scarf caught to mom’s eye and she bought it to add to her scarf collection back at home.
Meanwhile, my grandma had busied herself watching the street performers. Street performers were in abundance in Playa Del Carmen. The main tourist-y streets in the area were always filled with music, chatter, and dancers/performers. On this particular day, the crowd was gathered around of group of around eight men dressed in Native American attire. They wore headdresses war paint, and symbolic accessories as they preformed a choreographed dance. One of the men was playing the drums while the others, after letting the crowd take photos of them, danced through expressive movements. While this was meant for tourists, it was part of a larger story that they were trying to convey about the history in Playa Del Carmen.
In the evening, we went to a rooftop restaurant where with a live jazz band. There were small palm trees in pots next to the tables, and a huge pool with guests to swim in before and after their meal. We feasted on a familiar favorite: burgers, fries, and a Caesar salad. And of course, I had to have a virgin Piña Colada. We listened to the music for about an hour until the band packed up for the night. We then made our way back to tenth avenue—seeing as we hadn’t been there enough times— and took one last shop around to commemorate our last night in Mexico. The souvenir that I chose had nothing to do with Playa Del Carmen: it was a stuffed animal sheep wearing a bee costume. Nonetheless, it was cute, and every time I look at it, I remember the amazing trip that we had.
Day 4: Packing
Our final day in Playa del Carmen consisted of an early morning start followed by last-minute packing. We were all sharing the same hotel room, and we spent hours trying to match each item of clothing to the correct suitcases—a job more difficult than one would think. After we were finished, we cleaned up the room.
We made the bed (no wrinkles), we wiped the kitchen bench (pristine and spotless), and we put the performative fruit back on the table (picture perfect). Everything was exactly the as it was when we came. It was the same too-good-to-be true look that I had been so skeptical of at first. It turns out that some vacations truly are just like the idyllic posters in the airport–happy people, perfect beaches, and a perfect place.
And that place is Playa Del Carmen.
As I passed the utopian posters in the airport reading, “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey,” with happy people frozen in time on picture-perfect beaches, I couldn’t help but wonder: how realistic is this?