Touring Mexico’s Yucatán – 25 days and 1,000 miles by public bus

by Kimberly Edwards; Sacramento, CA

In January 2013 my significant other, Frank, and I flew to the Yucatán, the Mexican peninsula wedged between the Caribbean Sea and the Gulf of Mexico. In 25 days we logged 1,000 miles by public bus, making our way from Cancún through the states of Yucatán and Quintana Roo with the aid of a Lonely Planet guidebook. 

Island living

Before leaving Sacramento, California, we booked a hotel in downtown Cancún, since our flight would arrive after dark. We spent two days ingesting the beat and bustle of the city.

Throughout our trip, I carried a small cross-body purse. Cash stayed in money belts under our clothes, as did our ATM and Visa cards, our main sources for funds. 

We spent less than $100 per person per day. Frank kept small bills in a “street” wallet, the only item removed in public. 

We found hotels off main squares just beyond the tourist net, staying where middle-class Mexicans might stay. Customer service ranked high. Most rates vary according to season, and lower prices can be bargained for if booking multiple nights. 

From Cancún we chugged by ferry to nearby Isla Mujeres. Yellow curbs, red taxis and periodic pink steps with matching grillwork whispered “Caribbean island.” American tourists weaved through narrow roads in rented golf carts, and visitors with backpacks, snorkels, fins and towels arrived and left with the ferry. 

The Playa la Media Luna hotel awaited our discovery on a quiet street. A breeze blew through the lobby, causing hanging shells to tinkle as the sun flickered against a palm frond. Out back, a pool melted into the turquoise landscape of ocean and sky. Though the hotel cost more than we usually paid ($135, American dollars preferred), the view left me breathless. 

A Canadian couple we met told us they return to Isla Mujeres each year because of this hotel. They recommended a visit to the Turtle Farm (phone 52 998 877 0595), a government- and donor-funded project that protects hatchlings. A short taxi drive away, the Tortugranja merits the afternoon we spent there. Sea turtles, grouped by age, are housed in inside bins, graduating to exterior habitats until they’re released to open water.

At the mercado (market), we bought tortillas right off the griddle for snacks along with fresh fruit: oranges, mandarins, bananas and mangoes. As Frank said, “If it’s not boiled or able to be peeled, forget it.” 

At dusk, neighbors clustered in chairs along the street to chat while the stars illuminated foaming ripples over the nearby breaking tides. 

Valladolid 

After returning to Cancún, we traveled west, favoring the ADO line, as it ran on time and its bathroom-equipped buses were clean. We carried fruit, napkins, reading materials, a notebook, hand sanitizer and two layers of sleeved shirts to combat the robust air-conditioning.

Our 2-hour journey ended in Valladolid. The town, a convenient bus hub, is being primed as a tourist attraction, but, in our opinion, it wasn’t quite ready for an extended stay. Luck steered us to the restaurant at El Mesón del Marqués (Calle 39 #203), a hotel renovated to re-create a colonial gem. Good food and evening outdoor dining, accented by courtyard lighting, transported us back two centuries. 

Chichén-Itzá, the hailed Mayan ruins, proved supreme as a destination for a day trip out of Valladolid. We arrived early by collectivo. The ruins in awakening light roused our imaginations even as the vendors were setting up. (The gift shop was worth a quick stop on the way out.) 

By early afternoon, tour buses from Cancún were descending and visitors swamped the entrance — the perfect time to exit.

In Mérida, 2½ hours west of Valladolid, we discovered outdoor concerts, colonial architecture, activities listed in English and an enthusiastic tourist office staff. We strolled the tree-lined Paseo de Montejo, home to historic mansions, and visited a museum exhibit of traditional Yucatán huipils (tunics). This, together with theater and university events, convinced me that one could easily spend a week soaking up the local traditions.

The day we spent in the fishing village of Celestún, on the edge of the Biosphere Reserve, was well worth the side trip. We took a local public bus and were greeted upon arrival by a man coordinating 6-person boat rides on the ria (estuary). Since we arranged our own bus transportation there and the tour included no meal, we paid about $30 per person (off season).

The boat taxied out to an area where some 500 flamingos huddled, stretched and flew. A camera with a telescopic lens plus a hat with a chin tie rank high on the “take” list for this excursion. 

Isla Holbox 

Back in Cancún, instead of waiting for the next day’s bus to Chiquilá, the departure point for our next destination, Isla Holbox, we hailed a cab. We held out for the best rate, 800 pesos ($63); later we heard from a Scandinavian couple that they paid more than 12,000 pesos for the same ride. 

The 2½-hour ride northwest through villages passed pleasantly. In Chiquilá we approached the dock for passage to Holbox. Two ferry companies competed for the 20-minute trip. As there was no notable difference in service, we chose the cheaper fare. 

Our luggage was stored, hassle free, and the restroom was clean. Though enclosed seating was available, we climbed up top, where, from high, we observed haze-draped vistas as we approached the island. 

Upon debarkation, we rolled our suitcases past the waiting golf-cart taxis and headed for the main square. The sandy, unpaved streets made for a comfortable, though at times unsteady, walk. Street signage was sparse, but one can’t get too lost. 

Several blocks in, we passed Hotel Casa Barbara (Avenida Tiburón Ballena). The interior garden reminded me of Bali. 

Continental breakfast was included ($65 per night), with an omelet and frijoles available at a modest charge. The pool was a good size, and Internet service was available in our room with few interruptions. 

We also liked the fact that the restaurant manager, originally from Mexico City, encouraged guests to share a table rather than eat by themselves.

The town encircles a plaza, which often was filled with children enjoying the play equipment. Restaurants and hotels hugged the plaza’s perimeter. 

The hotel zone, just blocks away from any point in town, seemed devoid of tourists during our stay. The high season is in June, July and August, when throngs descend on this island of fewer than 1,000 residents to swim with whale sharks. 

The island spans 25 miles and only a portion of it is developed. Pineapples, mangoes and papayas are grown there. 

There are no cars on the streets. Golf carts ($10-$12 per hour) or bicycles (about $5 for a couple of hours) can be rented for exploration. 

As we awaited the setting sun, we picked up shells carried in with the waves. The water was surprisingly shallow, allowing us to wade far out. 

For dinner we ordered octopus with garlic and lime ($12 per person) at Tío Nico. We also liked the food at Pizziera Edelyn, an established restaurant frequented by locals where habanero oil is offered as a condiment. Nightlife on the island is almost nonexistent. 

Some shops kept irregular hours, while a few appeared to be closed for the season. 

Generations of resident fishermen maintain a stake in limiting tourism, and we met a store owner involved in efforts to prevent further resort development in this area. 

When visiting Holbox, it is important to take ample pesos, as the ATM often runs out. However, our hotel and some stores accepted Visa.

Winding down

After several days on the island, a ferry carried us back to the mainland. When the wind gained force during the ride back, a young but able employee steered us down to the enclosed cabin.

Back in Chiquilá, we awaited the bus to Cancún. Nothing and no one seemed to be in a hurry there, including the seven pelicans perched on a nearby boat. Taxis hovered, and an offer of $33 for two to Cancún charmed us into skipping the bus. 

Upon reaching Cancún and leaving our luggage at the hotel where, 25 days earlier, we had started, we returned to Palapas Park. At the park, couples demonstrated a Mexican folk dance known as son. Families applauded, ate quesadillas from the food stands and watched kids riding on motorized cars. We felt the glow of community and culture in action — the perfect end to our land-and-sand adventure.