Gentle Travel: What Tulum Gives Me That Nowhere Else Does

The first time I heard about Tulum, it was January 2012. It was the dead of winter in Montreal, where I was living at the time, and I was desperate to escape the frigid temperatures.

The immaculate beaches of Tulum (and a guy I don’t know is a Speedo), 2013.

A friend suggested a little beach town he’d been to a few times—a sleepy place in southern Mexico where the sand was apparently like icing sugar, and the sea was impossibly clear and that distinctive blue-green that defies description.

Fish tacos and fresh mangoes were cheap and abundant. There were no towering all-inclusive resorts, just small, thoughtfully-designed beach hotels that were as much a part of the experience as the beaches themselves, and that blended seamlessly into the landscape. It was all unpretentious Mexican hospitality at its finest, mixed with rustic charm, and immaculate nature. No McDonald’s. No Señor Frog’s. In fact, no chain restaurants at all—just independently owned spots, family-run with lots of character.

Tulum was everything Cancun wasn’t: intimate, deeply connected to nature, and attracting an interesting mix of backpackers and travelers seeking a more thoughtful experience.

I was sold.

Falling For Tulum

I spent 11 days in Tulum on that first trip—my first real solo trip at 39 years old. And everything was exactly as my friend had described.

My days were spent at the beach, my nights in the pueblo (Spanish for "town," what locals call the central part of Tulum to distinguish it from the beach strip). I ate tacos and mango smoothies, cochinita pibil and coconut helado. I took day trips to Valladolid and Playa del Carmen. I visited the Tulum Ruins and wandered through Chichén Itzá. I bought gauzy cotton blouses and traditional puebla dresses. I practiced my Spanish. I even made a couple of local friends.

More than anything, I felt something I hadn’t expected—a deep ease, a kind of warmth that wasn’t just from the sun. Tulum was dreamy, affordable, safe, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

So I went back. The following year, for a month. And then the year after that. And the year after that.

My Time in Mexico Over the Years: 2012 to 2025

At this point, we’ve been to Tulum almost every year since that first trip—except for the Covid years when travel wasn’t possible. And I say we now because, after the success of my first trip, my mom started coming with me and fell in love with it just as much. Later, my husband joined.

Over the years, we’ve brought friends, sharing one of our favourite places and watching them experience its magic for the first time.

What Happened to Tulum?

As much as I love Tulum, I can’t tell this story without also talking about what happened to it.

Maybe you already know. But in case you don’t, let me explain.

In the ‘70s and ‘80s, Tulum was mostly known to the rest of the world for its archaeological ruins, drawing backpackers in search of quiet beauty. It was largely undeveloped, with limited infrastructure.

As Cancun became increasingly commercialized, in the ‘90s and early 2000s, more adventurous travellers started venturing south along what would later be branded Riviera Maya. Small eco-friendly accommodations started popping up, but Tulum remained quiet.

From 2005 to 2010, word began spreading about Tulum’s untouched beauty. Boutique hotels appeared along the beach road, drawing in a more upscale—yet still alternative—crowd.

Then came 2010 to 2015, which, in many ways, felt like peak Tulum—at least from this visitor’s perspective. It had just the right balance: enough infrastructure to be comfortable but not overrun. Beautiful boutique hotels and Airbnbs, just enough internet to check your email, affordable taxis to take you between the beach and the pueblo if you didn’t want to bike. Tulum had everything you needed for a dream beach vacation—without the excess.

By the time 2016 rolled around, however, things had changed.

Tulum had been discovered.

The media, celebrities, and influencers had arrived. Prices skyrocketed. Development surged. The quiet roads became clogged with traffic, and construction was everywhere. And it wasn’t just that. The people coming to Tulum were different, which, in turn, made Tulum feel different.

It wasn’t the same sleepy little beach town we had first fallen for. And, for a while, we thought our Tulum days might be over.

But they weren’t.

What Tulum Gives Us That Nowhere Else Does

Once the initial shock wore off, once we accepted that our little secret wasn’t a secret anymore, we realized that so much of what we loved about Tulum was still there. And in the past few years, the overtourism seems to have eased. Certainly, on our last two visits—in December 2023/early January 2024, and then just this past February (2025)—Tulum felt quieter than when we visited in 2019.

Prices are still high for some things, but not quite as extreme—or maybe they’ve just steadied. Either way, it is still possible to have an affordable trip there. And more importantly, everything I have always loved about Tulum—the pristine beaches, the warmth of the people, the incredible jungle, the amazing food, the unexplainable magic—it’s all still there.

I’ve been lucky to go to a lot of beautiful places, but nowhere feels quite like Tulum.

Every time I return, it feels less like a getaway and more like a homecoming.

It’s in the salt air, the quiet mornings, the crazy bird chirps, the long beach walks, the ease of days spent barefoot and sun-kissed. It’s the feeling of being wrapped in something familiar and kind, like a warm hug from a place that remembers me.

For me, Tulum isn’t just an escape—it’s a shift. A gearing down. A reset.

And that’s what keeps me going back.