Bacalar: Seven Shades of Blue

A lesson in sitting still.

The sun rises, blending the milky remnants of night with the soft morning glow. Shadows from the sprawling trees dance across the linen curtains in my room, their movements slow and deliberate, as if the day itself is stretching awake. Embracing the solitude, I slip out quietly, letting my feet guide me along paths paved between mangroves, crossing a narrow stream that gently drifts through the heart of the property before climbing a few steps to where the lagoon and the sky gently press against one another in a seamless embrace. Hues of lavender, coral, and the faintest blue ripple across the water’s surface, fractured only by twirling dragonflies daring enough to disturb the morning stillness and the small fish seeking refuge in the hollows of ancient stromatolites. As the sun climbs higher, its rays glaze marbled hues of lavender, sapphire and turquoise. As the stillness thaws, I find myself moved by the sublime quiet, the kind of silence that invites you to listen inward, stirring an overwhelming sense of gratitude. This moment compelled me here—to Bacalar, Mexico.

This silence is hard-won. To reach it, I traveled three hours south of Tulum toward the Mexico-Belize border. My driver tells me a story about a black jaguar he once saw gliding along the roadside at dawn. I can’t help but fantasize about catching a glimpse of this elusive beauty, however, I later learn they are a real menace for dog owners in the region.

Ten minutes outside of central Bacalar, I arrive at Our Habitas Bacalar. The sweet smell of burning resin and palo de tinte greets me for the hotel's welcome ritual, an aromatic ceremony that feels like an offering.

The Lagoon, A Love Letter to Stillness

Each afternoon, with the smoky buzz of mezcal lingering from lunch, I set out onto the lagoon on one of the hotel’s complimentary paddle boards. Being a boutique hotel, the water was often empty save for one or two other quiet souls, each of us holding space for the sacred silence. The soft lap of the water beneath my board hushed the noise I carried in with me from New York. Bacalar, blissfully untouched, lent itself to the illusion that I was alone on the lagoon—just me, the mangroves, and the bubbling stromatolites. It is a place that asked nothing of me, and in that, I felt both hidden and held.

My days unfolded slowly by design: morning yoga, languid paddle boarding under the hot sun and the uninterrupted bliss of a good book. I had come to Bacalar for the stillness, for the quiet rebellion of an unstructured day. In a city like New York, time chases you. Here, it pooled around my ankles, clear and submissively still.

Property

The heart of the property is the lagoon deck, where guests can gaze across vivid waters and shaggy mangroves, lounging on beach chairs or sharing meals. The hotel offers wellness-focused programming—think aerial yoga and sound bath meditation. The rooms are tucked into the jungle, with a stream running through and wooden bridges guiding you from space to space. By night, candlelight flickers across the property, ushering in a delirium of romance and whispered mystery.

Rooms

The accommodations are standalone A-frame tents with outdoor showers—an absolute joy at sunrise and sunset. The tents are beautifully styled, but the canvas structure lends an earthy scent from enduring the elements and the interiors lack natural light. As a lover of design and architecture, the rooms would benefit from upgraded materials and a more thoughtful layout.

Food

Meals at the hotel were understated but okay—local, fresh, and thoughtfully plated. Some dishes reflected the region’s flavors: grilled fish dressed in citrus and herbs, local cheeses and flavorful fruit.

One evening, I took a cab into town and found myself on a quiet street savoring fried red snapper with an extra hot pepper sauce that I devoured, paired with a perfectly seasoned Michelada to wash it all down.

Rhythm

Bacalar is like a secret whispered between friends—quiet, intentional and unapologetically tender, which is fitting because my best friend recommended the destination. If you come, book a lagoon-facing room, bring a magazine, a journal and the patience to watch the lagoon reveal onto you.