To Love or Loathe, Tulum?

Pandemic be damned, for the past year international party-goers have anointed Tulum as the unofficial party-capital of the COVID-19 era, but for less-hedonistic travelers, this unique, once-charming Mexican beach town is nothing more than another overpriced disaster. What makes Tulum so polarizing, how did this happen so quickly, and is it worth your visit?

By GABRIEL HUNTTING

Let's not kid ourselves-- Tulum is a blast.

Tulum is also, at times, "utterly terrible."

These two conflicting truths coexist within the same small Caribbean destination for all who live and visit there. And if you probe any friends for their Tulum take, don't be surprised to hear some version of both these seemingly counterintuitive reviews:

Review A: “Beautiful beaches, gorgeous crowds, amazing nightlife, great restaurants, and too many parties to count. I love the architectural style and vibe. Can't wait to go back for (festival/bachelorette/bachelor/holiday). Might even buy a condo. Five stars.”

Review B: “Fuck this place, fuck the traffic, fuck the hats, and fuck the miserable, ‘Tuluminati,’ conquista-douchebags that rode in and ruined this place. I’ve gone bankrupt since I began writing this review. Travel elsewhere: you missed tall he magic you heard about. Is negative stars an option?”

By remaining open to travelers during the pandemic to assume the abdicated throne of party culture capital in the western hemisphere, Tulum, the once quaint, beachy oasis nestled on the edge of the Mexican jungle has experienced an unprecedented explosion in tourism during the COVID-19 era. Unless you’ve banned yourself from social media and cable news (or if you’re still quarantining under a rock) you’re probably familiar with the scene that’s erupted there.

With travel kicking back into gear, we figured a Tulum post was long overdue, but before we dive in, I’ll admit: I’m largely pro-Tulum. Having visited a few times -- twice since I recovered from COVID-19, and another after I received the vaccine -- to see what the hype was all about, the positives I’ve experienced have been too substantial for me to dwell on the negatives that seem to float more frequently to the top of social media stories and feeds. What can I say? I'm a cerveza-half-full kind of Guyd.

But our intention for this article isn’t to fall solely into a single camp. Instead, we wanted to relay what, who, why and how it arrived at its current infamy in an attempt to paint enough of a picture for those considering a visit. In the end only you can decide if Tulum is right for you.

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Regardless of how you feel the world should have handled COVID-19, Tulum exploded with the pandemic at a time when people probably shouldn’t have been traveling or gathering, much less for the purpose of partying. Thus, as the world watched in horror (or FOMO), Tulum checked its merit at the door, donned a scarlet, glow-painted letter, and became the poster-child for callous debauchery during the COVID-19 era.

Being one of the few party-centric destinations that was both open and accessible to tourists over the past year, tourism in Tulum has been nothing short of bonkers. With largely complacent enforcement of COVID-19 safety measures that more often fell on the personal preference and initiatives of visiting tourists, pesos and dollars haven’t stopped flowing in since the rest of the world decided to close shop. While the area has experienced stretches of regulated lockdown and postponed music festivals following outbreaks, it’s hard to imagine local enforcement maintaining their color-coded ‘stoplight’ public safety system with anything more than a few crayons, a hat, and a blindfold.

Tulum may have already experienced max capacity at peak occasions prior to COVID-19, but over the past year-- and since the New Year, especially -- the beach and hotel zone has been a non-stop stress test for over tourism. With only one real road to support the beach's main drag of attractions, and only a single two-lane road to support the most touristy areas, the stand-still traffic and outrageous cab fares you’ll encounter on a near-nightly basis feel more like the end of a traffic-jammed music festival than a beach town in Mexico.

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Despite its pitfalls, it’s important to highlight the beauty, charm, and uniqueness that first put Tulum on the map. Without the tidal wave of tourists, the region of Quintana Roo is as stunningly beautiful as anywhere on the Caribbean, and once things subside a bit, travelers looking for a different type of trip will have a much easier time utilizing Tulum as an HQ while exploring the area that surrounds it.

Flying to Tulum now just to complain about the party culture, is a bit like negatively reviewing Disney World because the lines were long and the food was expensive.

In and around Tulum there are gorgeous cenotes (natural, geological swimming holes), beautiful caves and caverns, one-of-a-kind dive spots, sneakily beautiful beaches, and plenty of quieter resorts without the complementary bachelorette party, instagram photo shoot, or perpetual bass drop you’ll find on the main stretch of the hotel zone.

However, if a quiet, relaxing getaway is what you desire, it would be in your best interest knock Tulum down a tier on your bucket list, work yourself back into travel, and give the area some room to breathe before you decide to visit. Flying to Tulum now just to complain about the party culture, is a bit like negatively reviewing Disney World because the lines were long and the food was expensive.

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Even during the height of its insanity, Tulum wasn't a lost cause for the calm and tranquil. And with a little pre-planning, one could avoid the trap of overpaying for a beach hotel, subjecting yourself to all the extremities I’ve described, or going broke on bottle service.

With the outrageous lodging prices you’ll find on the beach, for those who choose to live or stay off of it, the value and quality of food, beverage, and lodging in Tulum is very manageable; hence the swath of expats that flocked there during the height of the pandemic to pursue a substantially better quality of life than what they left behind in most cities in the United States.

If you follow the expat blueprint by finding a great, long-term spot in the nearby neighborhoods of La Valeta or Aldea Zama and responsibly renting a scooter or bike to avoid chaotic times of traffic, there are plenty of opportunities to unlock a more local experience in Tulum and embrace a perfectly manageable, value-driven approach toward your time there.

Most of all, the space between you and the beach will not only provide a logistical barrier to temptation and turmoil, it’ll also allow for you to experience the areas of Tulum less jaded by all the over tourism and an inherent cost of living more in-line with what you’d expect from a visit to underdeveloped portions of Mexico.

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But let’s be real here: as much as the party and music scene is responsible for why many travelers shouldn’t visit Tulum, for those who enjoy that type of environment, it is without a doubt the reason why you should go there.

While being painted as a super-spreader capital for the COVID-19 virus, Tulum also became a haven and lifeline for displaced creatives whose derailed careers depended upon a music, events, and nightlife sector devastated by shutdowns and permanent closures.

While some of the festival events lacked the quality of production and management you’d find outside of Mexico, the accessibility to more intimate shows and acts throughout Tulum during the past year was unprecedented.

When international travel and tourism froze, a massive migration of laid-off hospitality lifers, out of work event producers, and suddenly unbooked artists and DJ’s occurred, resulting in a one-off, year-long convention of all the minds and talents responsible for many of the iconic parties you craved prior to the pandemic and cried for during it.

In that respect, there was more magic in Tulum than anywhere I’ve been, and for this particular brand of music and culture, it might be the most physically concentrated wealth of talent we’ll see in our lifetimes.

Beneath the sensationalized imagery of overpacked beach clubs that dominated international news coverage was a wonderfully inclusive international community as vibrant as it was talented, working and producing their craft like their lives and livelihoods depended on it.

While some of the festival events lacked the quality of production and management you’d find outside of Mexico, the accessibility to more intimate shows and acts throughout Tulum during the past year was unprecedented.

Sure, if you work in the industry, know the right people, or have exorbitant amounts of money, then accessibility is a moot point. However, for the vast majority of the party-going population, good luck experiencing a more outrageously talented weekly lineup of talent without paying for an overpriced table at a claustrophobic nightclub or buying a $400 ticket to an oversold music festival.

For me, the opportunity to see and engage with world-class talent -- Bedouin, Blondish, Artbat, Black Coffee, Monolink, etc. -- at the cost of a reasonable ticket and a drink tab, dancing deep in the Mexican jungle, or feet away from the ocean shore at an open air beach club, was well worth the price of admission. And beyond the headliners, the wealth of incredible international artists you might stumble upon, without cost or plan, at any moment of the day or night in a gorgeous, intimate setting was an exhilarating treat that would be foolish to similarly expect in the future.

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Although I’m rooting for Tulum, it will be difficult to support the current weight of over-tourism without conceding the last of the dwindling aura that initially put it on the map. I can't imagine how the local municipality could juggle keeping the lights on, capitalizing on current levels of popularity, and fixing its institutional inadequacies while also retaining any authenticity behind the style and vibe that’s already fallen to costume and caricature.

Frustratingly, it might be the horrible traffic and infrastructure -- though aggravating -- that has kept the family resorts out and the unregulated party scene thriving.

In the short-term, judging by what we’ve seen from the past year, even when many internationals and music acts leave for their reopened residencies in the US and Europe, we could very well see the stress test worsen just in time for hurricane season, when legions of party-goers with varying levels of vaccination are unleashed for ‘YOLO Summer ‘21.’

For now, it’s hard to blame anyone for milking every peso they can while Tulum is still this hot. Even if it compromises some of the overall experience, desperately needed upgrades will stay on the back-burner until things (someday?) calm down. If or when that moment occurs, if the staggering amount of private money being pumped into every new bar, restaurant, or entertainment budget can finally be supported by some investment into roads and infrastructure, things may flow a bit more to the standard of those visiting.

And for those already lamenting the loss of Tulum’s exotic charm and unique character, with the exception of a few corporate flags flying above some boutique hotels, it’s worth noting that the area has yet to be infiltrated by the hospitality giants that typically hammer the last nail into a cool destination’s coffin. Frustratingly, it might be the horrible traffic and infrastructure-- although aggravating-- that has kept the family resorts out and the unregulated party scene in.

But until that day arrives, the debate will continue, and every time someone ‘likes’ a post of a wannabe instagram influencer dressed as a human dream catcher in front of that Daniel Popper sculpture (no offense, Dan), another Tuluminati tourist will buy their flowy, overpriced wings, flock to the spot everyone's talking about, and life will go on as usual in Quintana Roo, Mexico.