No way did I expect to jump off a cliff, sing on stage or inhale tequila.
My Cancun plan was to hike ancient ruins, graze the new healthy gourmet scene and jog, swim and meditate by the turquoise Caribbean Sea.
Turns out, though, that Cancun, Mexico, a 90-minute flight from Tampa, makes a great place to venture beyond your comfort zone, learning more about your companions and yourself along the way.
It would be easy to peg my friend Sara as a hedonist and me as a health nut. Her roll-aboards bulge with high-heels, flowy sundresses, bikinis and bountiful bling. My backpack holds hiking boots, cross-trainers, quick-dry yoga wear and a sensible one-piece swimsuit. When toasting poolside, she clinks her champagne flute to my mason jar of cactus-melon juice.
I refuel with sliced papaya, she with loaded nachos. She paddles up to the CasaMagna Marriott’s swim-up pool bar; I trot next-door for fresh-squeezed honeydew juice at the JW Marriott Cancun Resort’s new health bar. My guilty pleasure: fresh-made guacamole. She takes her pleasures straight and guilt-free.
But like Cancun, we are far more than our nerd and party girl reputations.
Sinkhole spa treatment
An hour’s ride south of Cancun, several cenotes (seh-no-tays) serve as unusual attractions. The Yucatán is peppered with these sinkholes, formed when limestone bedrock collapses and exposes groundwater. The natural wells link to caves and are connected by underground rivers.
At Rio Secreto, caves fringed with stalactites and stalagmites make it worth renting caving helmets with lamps, wet suits and masks.
But Sara’s find was easier and more relaxing. Cenote Azul, a locals favorite, is like going to a $4 open-air spa. A dirt path winds beneath jungle foliage past a pond inhabited by gentle black fish. It leads to several natural pools, where we gingerly step across rocks and into the warm jade waters. I swim into a small cave; above it looms a rocky cliff.
Jumping off this cliff seems a good idea until I toe the edge and peer down. “Just jump!” Sara commands, before sprinting past me and off the rocky ledge.
After she safely emerges and paddles off, I take the plunge. And splash-down feels so incredible that I head back up to the cliff for more.
Ruins by the sea
About 90 minutes south of Cancun, the remains of Tulum, a walled 12th-century Mayan settlement and trading port, occupy a seaside cliff. Admission is about $4, and you can take a guided tour.
Guide Alvaro Lechuga tells us about the Castillo watchtower, astonishing temples and symbol-laden architecture honoring deities, including a diving figure believed to protect honeybees. (Honey was key to the economy.)
The Mayans excavated limestone with tools fashioned from imported obsidian, super-hard volcanic rock. Small windows were positioned on walls to indicate precise agricultural calendar dates.
When Sara commandeers an overlook for selfies, it seems a bit irreverent — but less so than the handstand I did beside a temple.
Health-nut heaven
Resort-based breakfast buffets at restaurants like La Capilla at CasaMagna and Sedona Grill at the JW now offer vast value-priced gourmet spreads to lure hedonists and health nuts alike. Besides fresh tropical fruits and lightly seasoned veggies, sweet, savory and spicy wake-up calls include pickled eggplant, pickled turnips (surprisingly delicious), inari fried tofu, tamagoyaki seaweed, tamales, mole chilaquiles, bean dumplings, fresh jicama, coconut, chipotles, chocolate chips, berry compote, baked goods, soy milk and fresh-squeezed carrot juice.
Sara will dance off the calories later. And both our plates are dwarfed by fellow breakfasters piling rich fare into mounds evoking those pyramidal Mayan temples.
In a jungle swath of Tulum, we thread between palm fronds to Restaurare, a foodie joint locals recommended to Sara. Rather than a meat-and-cheese extravaganza, though, the cuisine is raw vegan. Diners sit at long tables beneath the lush green canopy by an outdoor bar where juice-guru Mauracio meticulously mixes cocktails and mocktails. My virgin watermelon habanero juice and Sara’s potent potion of lemongrass, lime and red wine are the liquid equivalent of being fanned with palm fronds.
The mole, a healthy twist on the owner’s grandmother’s recipe, blends chiles, dark chocolate, pumpkin and oyster mushrooms. Nut-based lettuce wraps are devoured too quickly to decipher the list of ingredients. The aromatic noodles with Mayan-accented coconut curry are outstanding.
Trading places
Though she prefers to stretch out on a seaside chaise lounge rather than a floor mat, Sara gamely joins me at the JW’s yoga class, where Rakesh Thapliyal, a master from India, helps us discover some new muscles. At the resort’s two-level spa and pool complex, I am talked into a deep tissue massage that ends with heated slippers being glided over my feet. After laps in the window-walled semi-Olympic indoor pool, I bliss out on eucalyptus in the steam room.
I’m getting to like this hedonism thing.
Champions, a cavernous sports bar, is among the many Cancun spots fit for releasing your alter ego. Sara prods me to go onstage for my karaoke debut. An Aerosmith power ballad is my gateway drug, leading to Carrie Underwood and Lady Antebellum songs. Bedtime is so late I almost bag plans to catch the sunrise over the sea. When I drag myself to the resort’s oceanfront infinity pool, my party-girl pal, swaddled in a white hotel robe, is already snapping photos.
Beyond the party
Reminding me I can jog at home, Sara suggests a short tequila-tasting class. While spring breakers down Mexico’s classic liquor in shots, we learn how to properly inhale tequila aromas using deep yoga-like breathing. The technique is a tricky but worthwhile oral-olfactory tango — this slow booze movement makes just a few sips of well-aged anejo tequila pleasurable enough for a lightweight like me.
Later, toasting the sunset and the day’s discoveries, Sara clinks her dirty martini to my virgin chile-peppered tomato-basil Vampiro. We’ve both learned that Cancun offers plenty of un-spring-break-like good times ... and that what happens in Cancun stays with you, because it’s far deeper than just a day at the beach.
Robin Soslow is a Florida-based writer who covers art, culture, healthy food and outdoor adventure. She can be reached at rsoslow@gmail.com.