A week ago, I returned (sans swine flu) from a five-day stay at the newly opened Banyan Tree Mayakoba in Mexico, the first North American property of this Singapore-based hotel chain. During my career as a travel writer, I have had the privilege of staying at a variety of stunning five-star hotels and resorts around the world, places normally beyond my reach. And so it happens that I’m not all that easily impressed. But when it comes down to Banyan Tree, I was absolutely swept off my feet. It felt like walking into a fairy tale.
From the moment I arrived and was presented with a beautifully scented hand towel to refresh myself, I felt as if a cloud lifted. Things became even lighter when a buggy transported me along the resort’s scenic pathways to my own private spa pool villa where Asian and Mexican design blend seamlessly. As I explored the many perks of this stunning spot, I thought I had died and woken up in heaven.

What followed were mornings when I’d wake up to open a sliding glass door of the bedroom and swim right into my own sizable pool. Other mornings I’d hop on a bike parked outside my villa and ride through the protected nature reserve of mangroves that edges the resort all the way to the beach, for a soothing walk along the sands. In the afternoons, I’d doze off in the hammock of my verdant courtyard, watching the waterways and feeling the breeze on my skin. Each night, I’d first dip into the hot tub in the garden and then draw the bath on an enclosed outdoor patio, light a dozen candles, pour the fragrant salts and phase out under starry skies.

Beyond my private villa, plenty of experiences delighted me in the Banyan Tree world. The three-hour Thai herbal detox massage at award-winning Banyan Tree Spa was a journey to a perfect world, a short glimpse of heaven, and then back. Each of the meals was a culinary feast: from contemporary Thai cuisine of the signature restaurant, Saffron; to Mediterranean-inspired fare at Tamarind; modern Mexican cuisine at Oriente; and stellar seafood at Sands on the beach.

On Earth Day, I joined a boat tour along the canals with an ornithologist, spotting endemic birds and learning about various environmental projects by the Banyan Tree’s Green Imperative Fund, such as reforesting the mangroves of Mayakoba; funding an orphanage in Playa del Carmen; and reviving the area’s endangered melipona bee population. At the end of the mini-voyage, I planted my own buttonwood mangrove three. May it grow tall and strong out there in Mayakoba.

Visit everthenomad.com for more by Anja Mutic

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This last weekend, we escaped the city of Merida and drove one hour south to stay at the Flycatcher B&B in Santa Elena. We might as well have traveled in a time machine. The Flycatcher, owned by an American-Mayan couple, Kristine and Santiago, is a lovely collection of rooms and casitas that are clean and have all the modern amenities. But stepping outside the door of our little casita moderna was like going to another place in another time.

The town of Santa Elena is mostly on the northeast side of the road that leads to the Mayan archaeological zone of Uxmal. The Flycatcher is on the other side of the road, mercifully distant from early morning crowds of crowing roosters and late weekend night fiestas in the center of town. After a quiet morning watching birds and a grueling day ruin-hopping, we took a nap and then ventured across the road to explore the town itself. 

The town is laid out on a grid that mostly expands from the foot of a hill, which is topped by a very large church, freshly painted when we were there in a rich colonial red. The church can be seen miles outside of town… it dwarfs the buildings around it. A series of concrete landings leads up to the church from the main square, and at the top, huge stone pave the courtyard in front of the church that were placed here hundreds of years ago. 

Inside, the church was welcoming in its informality. Churches, in this part of Mexico anyway, are the center of social life and are used for everything from classes to storage. On this lazy weekend afternoon, the church held paint cans, drop cloths, ladders and scaffolding. There were also two separate groups of teenagers, sitting on the old beaten pews, chattering and laughing. At a comfortable distance from both groups, a small man sat, accompanied by a sack filled with…what? clothes? corn? The man had dark, bare, dirty feet. His clothes and his face looked lived in, wrinkled and both had seen better days. The man sat, and his feet dangled like a child’s. He didn’t appear to be praying; he didn’t watch the children, or our cameras. He just stared. And rested.

Above him soared a tall and empty arched ceiling, and on the walls, a few painted altars from decades gone by. There were some saints, tilted and a bit neglected, resting in their wooden boxes, waiting to be taken out and carried around town during the yearly fiesta. Fake flowers cheerily brightened the faded scene.

After looking around, we walked out the side door and went into the tiny state-run museum, which has a few exhibits about henequen cultivation and the mummies that were found on the grounds of the church. There’s even a sample burial site, hidden in full view beneath a thick pane of glass on the floor. Kids were resting in there, too. Talking and laughing. They probably knew someone at the door… we had to pay 30 pesos. 

Outside the sun was setting and we watched it for awhile from the top of the stairs in front of the church. As we headed home, a few stray dogs ran out from the overgrown lot next to the church and started playing together on the lawn. They didn’t look hungry or mangy or scary… just a few town dogs, enjoying the last hour of sunlight on the cool green grass.

Below the church, the town square was coming to life, as Mayan pueblos do all over the peninsula when the sun goes down. Ice cream vendors were calling out, a group of schoolgirls practiced a dance to music while their teacher clapped and instructed, and they giggled at the gringos passing by. The panadería (bakery) was closing down and their messenger was loading up his bicycle to begin his selling rounds around the village. 

As we walked out of town and crossed the road, the lights were coming on in every little home. Families were spilling out into the streets with their dogs, bicycles, motorcycles, music, televisions and food. We’ve always thought there was something magical about this time of day, and nowhere more so than in a small Yucatecan village like this one.

Photos by James and Ellen Fields

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Every once in awhile, Yucatan Living gets a story from a reader that touches us. We live here now, but we love to be reminded of how the Yucatan looks to those who travel here for the first time. The following is one of those stories by our friends Sid & Emily from North Carolina.

Merida is the capital and largest city of the Mexican state of Yùcatan, where the true culture of Latin America emerge in all their colors and atmospheres.

One day we were told to explore the area around the old train station that is being converted to an arts center, and to check out the up and coming neighborhood around it. After walking around for several blocks we heard the sound of mariachis in the distance.

We followed the music and soon came to a home with the front door open. We were lucky enough to be invited in to watch the celebration of a 91-year-old woman’s birthday. The event was attended by about 25 people sitting around a small dining room and living room, singing, clapping and enjoying the mariachis, who were in full dress and obviously having a ball entertaining the crowd and guest of honor. She was sitting right in front of the band waving her hands, singing along and grinning from ear to ear.

We were told that she was blind, but everyone there could see just how much she was enjoying the party. We felt honored to be invited in to their home and to witness the celebration. To us we were strangers. To them we were guests. What a beautiful sight it was. This was one of the most memorable events of our lives.

Salsa dancing on the street to the Cuban band, La Changa de Oro, with about 1,000 other people was something we will never forget. To think that this is a normal occurrence is unbelievable. Or riding our rented bicycles on the Paseo de Montejo on Sunday morning where the streets are closed off, giving families an opportunity to spend some time together getting exercise.

The people of Merida do something that we didn’t think existed anywhere. They celebrate life like we’ve never seen and they do it regularly not for tourists, for themselves.

Muchas Gracias, Merida, for your wonderful hospitality. Great food. Incredible music. Most of all, thank you for your people who are the real reason we will be returning as often as possible and some day we too will call Merida home.

Photo “Yucatan highlights” by mexicanwave on Flickr

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