On Bacalar, and Being Wrong
Travel recs for a Mexican town with a turquoise lagoon.
Sometimes I get things wrong. In the case of Mexico, I was too eager, too naïve, too heart-open yes with a man I hardly knew. And while I love that writing is where I share the vulnerable side to being single (at 40) and dating men (around the world), if you don’t mind—please forgive me—I’m going to reverse gears a bit on my Substack and try to talk about travel instead. (Notice I said “try”; obviously I will still end up talking about romantic love, which is often the thing that matters most to me and continues to elude me.)
But first: Bacalar.
Sunny Bacalar, in Quintano Roo, Mexico, in the middle of February.
Bacalar was someone else’s dream, and because I have nothing more than an absolute abundance of freedom, I went to join a French-California man who we’re calling “Lucien” in Bacalar for three weeks. (We both left after two.)
Where the heck is Bacalar?
Bacalar is a sleepy little town on the Riviera Maya, in Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula. It’s a few hours south of Tulum, close to the Belize border. There’s no beach: the nearest is a 90-minute drive. But what it has is a lagoon: “Laguna Bacalar” or “La Laguna de Los Siete Colores” (“The Lagoon of 7 Colors”). A freshwater lake, the lagoon is 26 miles long, with a few cenotes tucked in. There are also cenotes around Bacalar—we visited Cenote Azul, for instance.
Bacalar consists of a small, sleepy town and many “beach clubs” along the lagoon, with long wooden docks jutting out over the lagoon so you can swim or tan. The fancier beach clubs have food, drinks, maybe a hammock in the water, some Instagrammable photo opportunities, and too-loud music.
Once the Tulum airport opens up and once the Mayan Train that will traverse the entire Yucatán Peninsula is finished, Bacalar will probably become the next overdeveloped Cancun or Tulum. It’s certainly not there yet, which is refreshing.
Right now, it’s a little hard to get to Bacalar—I flew to Cancun and the French man came to get me, which meant we spent one night at a hotel in Cancun and then again in Tulum. (I probably would have rather stayed in Tulum than go on to the more remote Bacalar, in hindsight.)
How does one get around Bacalar?
Bacalar is spread out. You don’t need a car, but it’s nice for getting to the different beach clubs, cenotes, and restaurants on the lagoon. You could also take taxis or rent a bike. You can also walk. I walked alone in the town in the daylight and felt safe. I wouldn’t walk alone at night. A travel warning for Americans headed to Quintana Roo encourages us to “exercise increased caution” throughout the region.
Why did I go to Bacalar?
I went because I met a guy on Hinge who lives in California but was going to be in Mexico for a few months. His plan in Mexico was to work on building a boutique hotel project: he’d bought land along the lagoon, and he had a Mexican business partner who was his trusted man on the ground, arranging all the necessary paperwork, visa application material, apartment, car rental, etc. He’d known his business partner for three years. But after three years and a lot of money invested, in the last few weeks it became apparent that the business partner had stolen all the money, no land had been bought, the paperwork was all fake, there was no apartment or car, etc. The business partner said he was going to kill himself and supposedly did, according to a few sources, but even that seemed unbelievable, given the web of lies.
Into this very unfortunate and elaborate three-year-long con, I appeared in Mexico, ready for romance.
Guess who was very much not ready for romance?
Why might you go to Bacalar?
You could go for the prices, which are already cheap and certainly cheaper than Tulum. You could go because there are zero crowds. You could go for the mystical Mayan energy, to see the Fort of San Felipe, which is now a museum where you can learn about Mayans and pirates. You could go for the fabulously hot, sunny late winter weather, to swim in the turquoise water and work on your tan. (You aren’t allowed to wear sunscreen in the lagoon because it will damage the ecosystem; as someone who loves to get tan quickly, I relished this “no sunscreen” rule and indeed got tan very quickly).
What should you absolutely not miss in Bacalar?
Laguna Bonanza! This is a very low-key spot to enjoy the lagoon for a day. It isn’t a beach club, really, because there’s not much to eat or drink, but you have to pay to use it. You’ll find little wooden docks, picnic tables, trees bending over the edge of the lagoon creating dappled shade, and moss-covered ground. It’s so beautiful that it seems unreal, like the Disneyland of Mexican lagoons. We went twice, and probably spent the best afternoons of the trip there.
There is a wine shop/bar in Bacalar, Nine Wine Wine, owned by the lovely Lucero, who was a very helpful friend to the French man (she helped him get a 2-bedroom, 2-bath rental for our stay). Lucero is a Mexico City transplant and sommelier with excellent taste in wine. I liked sitting on the sidewalk outside her shop, drinking rosé and eating cheese. I’d brought a nice French red and foie gras from the airport, so one night we shared these with her on the sidewalk table for a French dinner night. Her wine shop is the kind of place where you could strike up friendly conversations with the other people sitting outside or coming in to buy good wine.
I wanted chilaquiles and so one morning I took myself to El Manatí, where they did not disappoint: just tortilla chips smothered in brown mole sauce and topped with an egg. Insanely good breakfast that I wish I’d eaten more than once.
Also, Laguna Spa Bacalar for a great massage.
Where to cry in Bacalar?
At first I was so shocked by what was happening that I cried. (And what was happening? I can’t really describe it other than a cold distance that communicated his lack of interest and effort. He was never mean, and there was a mutual attraction—no problems there. But I arrived with an utterly naïve trust, heart so open it was practically bending back onto itself, and was greeted with a closed heart. No tenderness, no selfies, none of the poetry of life. I accidentally showed up as a witness to his personal crisis, and instead of being a band-aid of positivity, he seemed endlessly annoyed by my presence. Now that I know him better, what I interpreted as rejection and a failed trip was, for him, not that bad! He’s a pessimist, had lost a lot of money, his dreams for the future had evaporated, and on top of all that, he isn’t emotionally expressive. It wasn’t about me at all and I didn’t need to take anything personally. Still, not a dynamic that works for me.)
So maybe I cried about that realization, more than anything. I felt embarrassed that I’d shared my excitement with you all about someone I hardly knew; I ought to know better than that.
When you need to cry, I recommend the end of the dock at the Bacalar Beach Club. I was alone there on two different days. Perfect for crying in the sun, sending WhatsApp voice messages, taking selfies alone, then jumping into the water to swim.
Where to eat in Bacalar?
Finisterre for Italian food and pizza.
Mi Burrito Bacalar for creative burritos.
Enamora for healthy breakfast.
Yerbabueno for healthy smoothies.
Arugula as a place to eat while working on your laptop (I didn’t actually go, but I hear it’s a nice co-working spot).
La Playita for lunch or cocktails.
Should you go to Bacalar?
Yeah! It’s a tranquil little place, perfect in February. Go with someone who thinks you’re amazing. You deserve that.
What to keep in mind?
As with any trip, and as with any potential romance in the just-beginning stages, it’s almost always in the anticipation where the actual happiness lives—at least for me. In the weeks leading up to my being in Bacalar, I was eating super healthy, not drinking, doing Pilates 2-3 times a week thanks to a ClassPass free trial month, packing for two months away from Paris, and just walking on air. I thought my life was about to change.
It didn’t. But I was really happy thinking that.
My wise friend Megan, a poet and the publisher of my poetry book, wrote to me during all of this. First, she said: “If you want these type of adventures, you have to be realistic about the other types of people who might also want this.”
She’s not wrong. And it goes both ways: I’m a little strange to think this is an appropriate way to find a partner or to date someone. It’s not.
And second, she said: “I hope you know you live a life people dream of—it’s the gratitude that shapes the story as much as the content.”
Which is an important reminder: gratitude and perspective shape the story. I am grateful for these interesting experiences, to meet adventurous men who love to be on the go, who want a travel companion, who want love. I’m grateful that these adventures always turn out okay, or even better than okay! I’m grateful that I have the flexibility to travel while I work from my laptop. The digital nomad life has been the best thing I ever did. What started out as solo-travel has morphed into dating-travel, and maybe that’s not the worst thing, but maybe I should stop doing it.
I do know what I want, and I do know that I’m often the one getting in my own way.
In Bacalar, I just kept thinking, “I am such an idiot.” Then I lowered my expectations, forgave myself, got a great tan, and had a nice time.
Heading to Mexico City for a year come August, and will travel all ‘round. Enjoyed reading your exploits in Bacalar, and how you circled ‘round to contentment.
Very romantic. I'd even say it's a way of life for you that goes beyond the dating aspect of that word. And I admire your courage: in your writing, in your willingness to go places, in the way you continue to hope for the life you want. And more.