Post 20- Farewell to Mexico

Efrat abramson
Mar 14
8 min read

March 13, 2026

An overlook on the last campground we've been to in Mexico

The days go by, and it feels as though Israel is in a state of darkness over the abyss. New fronts of war are opening, once again there is shelling in the north, once again soldiers in Lebanon, while here the world goes on as usual. We find it hard to hold this gap between the reality here and what is happening back home. From here, it seems to be getting worse, and yet our journey continues with its own momentum, as if it has a life of its own — the Bear's movement on the roads is strong and steady, and we move along with it.

We leave Mérida with clean laundry, bicycle gear, excellent sourdough bread in the freezer, and set out on a three-hour drive to northeastern Mexico. We are still in Yucatán, and the roads are wonderful after the difficult, mountainous driving we had earlier.

We arrive at a place called Rio Lagartos — a small fishing village located on the shore of a beautiful and unique lagoon. The name “Río Lagartos” means “River of the Alligators,” and it was given during the Spanish conquest, after the first navigators encountered many crocodiles living in the lagoons of the area.

This is where an impressive nature reserve is located in the northern part of Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula — a region of salt lagoons, mangrove forests, and wild beaches. It is one of the most important habitats for water birds in the region, especially the pink flamingos that arrive here in large flocks and paint the lagoons in stunning shades of pink. Alongside the flamingos, you can also see crocodiles, herons, pelicans, and hundreds of other species of water birds.

A boat ride through the lagoons and mangrove channels allows you to get close to the wildlife and experience the nature here from up close. Near the village are also the pink salt ponds of Las Coloradas, which get their unique color from algae and microorganisms living in the salty water.

There is no organized campsite here, so we drive to the edge of the village, to an abandoned and somewhat neglected area. There used to be a restaurant here, with shade structures and access to the water. In short, the place has clearly seen better days, but locals still enjoy coming here to spend time by the water, with snacks and plenty of alcohol.

We asked around, and they told us it is perfectly fine to sleep here for the night. When we asked about Chico, whom I had read about, they immediately called him. Within five minutes, he arrived on his motorcycle, happy to meet us and arrange a boat tour of the reserve.

I know, it looks amazing, which it is, but also worn out, abandoned, and a bit dirty

We went out with him in the afternoon for a boat ride on the lagoon, which became one of the most special experiences we have had so far. The number of animals we encountered was astonishing — flamingos, crocodiles, pelicans, many different kinds of birds, and one particularly friendly eagle.

Chico spoke to all the animals. It seemed he knew exactly where each one was. He called to them, and they came toward us as if they were happy to meet us. It was pleasant to sit in the boat, the afternoon breeze cooling us as I listened to his stories. He knew a great deal, and I managed to understand only a small part of what he was saying — hopefully the important part.

We moved slowly through the lagoon, between the mangroves, stopping from time to time to meet another animal, to make friends, and to say hello. They were not afraid and came close to our boat.

Up close, the flamingos were actually orange rather than pink

We are on the boat with Chico

Friends we met along the way — one of those moments when I wish we had a better camera

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/dbedc6_965349046d1e45f0971c9bf9921f1cc4/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

After about three fascinating hours, we returned to the shore, said our goodbyes, and went back to the Bear, which in the meantime had clearly not been left alone. A few local families had arrived with their children, and everyone was enjoying a cheerful afternoon by the water. Luckily for us, once darkness fell, they all left, and we had a quiet night in nature, on the shore of the beautiful lagoon.

The next morning, we woke up to the sounds of war, called our families, read the news, and fell into a dark mood. It is hard to be so far away — especially in the middle of all this beauty.

Cenotes

Cenotes are natural sinkholes formed when a limestone ceiling collapses, exposing clear groundwater beneath. They are especially common in the Yucatán Peninsula, where there are almost no surface rivers, so water flows and collects through a vast system of underground rivers.

Cenotes can be completely open to the sky, half-enclosed within a deep pit, or impressive underground caves filled with stalactites. For the Maya, they were vital sources of water and sacred places connected to the underworld, where ceremonies were held, and offerings were sometimes cast into the water.

Today, cenotes are among the most special places for swimming and bathing in Yucatán — cool, crystal-clear water within an underground world of rocks, tree roots, and light filtering down from above.

We skipped all the crowded tourist spots and drove about two hours deep into the jungle, to a small place hidden among the trees that revealed itself to us as a little paradise. (We found it through our travelers’ app, iOverlander.)

It was a family-run day-use place, maintained to a very high standard, with its own private cenote. Another advantage was that we could stay overnight beside the property and enjoy it at the same time.

The pool was stunningly beautiful, the water pleasant, and the atmosphere calm. There was a small meditation corner, a hammock area perfect for an afternoon siesta, and a small restaurant serving excellent margaritas — and we happily enjoyed everything the place had to offer.

We slept in the middle of a beautiful jungle, surrounded by the characteristic sounds of an astonishing variety of birds, monkeys, and other creatures we could not quite identify. It was a very special experience, and of course, nothing is perfect — we got tangled up with our electricity again. Somehow, we ended up with no power: the battery had drained completely, and we were also thoroughly bitten by the local resident mosquitoes.

The next day, we decided to drive straight to the nearest big city to check the batteries. It turned out they were completely fine. And yet the battery had fully discharged, probably because of unwise use, overuse, and other things I really don’t understand at all. That’s Guy’s territory, as part of the division of roles between us.

So we arrived in a city called Chetumal. It is the city closest to the border with Belize, and we stayed at a campsite just outside the city for six nights. The place was so beautiful that it was hard to stop taking photos.

We arrived at the campsite on the exact day they were celebrating 15 years of the place, with a big party and dancing late into the night. They warned us there would be music, but they didn’t know how late it would go.

By early afternoon, the music was already blasting, and for the first time, we pulled out our Apple headphones to let them do their job — and they did it beautifully. They lowered the decibel level, and reality became much more bearable. If I took the headphones off even for a moment, the noise was truly deafening.

I found myself thinking about the extremes I keep experiencing here. On one hand, the beauty, the warm and wonderful people, the culture and history, the food, the nature, the vegetation, and the wildlife. And on the other hand, the dirt, the social gaps, and the noise, with so little awareness of the damage it causes.

Luckily for us, the party ended before midnight, and the music stopped with it. We had a quiet night, followed by calm days at a lovely campsite with sea colors that are hard to describe, a swimming pool, green grass, and a peaceful atmosphere. We were able to work quietly, finish preparations for crossing into a new country, and say goodbye to Mexico, which had been our home for the past two months.

למעלה באמצע המסיבה

In the last days before leaving Mexico, we took only Silvy for a day trip to a lagoon called Bacalar. It is often called “The Lagoon of Seven Colors,” thanks to the many shades of turquoise and blue created by differences in depth, a white limestone bottom, and the exceptional clarity of the water.

The lagoon stretches for about 40 kilometers and is a freshwater system connected to underground springs and cenotes (natural sinkholes). One of its unique features is the presence of stromatolites — ancient biological formations created by colonies of bacteria, considered evidence of some of the earliest forms of life on Earth.

We stopped at an organized spot that allowed us to swim, observe the stromatolites, and enjoy the extraordinary beauty of its many colors.

It is fascinating to see how many shades of turquoise there are.

On our last day in Mexico, we drove into the city, visited the Museum of Maya Culture, and sat in what Guy considers to be the best café in town.

The museum was fascinating because it is built on three levels representing the three worlds in the Maya worldview: the underworld, the human world, and the upper world. Through temple models, archaeological findings, and clear explanations, it is possible to understand how this ancient civilization organized its life around cycles of time, astronomy, and nature.

Of course, it was also a kind of professional visit — giving Guy the opportunity to observe a museum in a large city and study its use of materials, colors, design, and construction.

We said goodbye to Mexico, which had been fascinating, dramatic, joyful, and challenging. In this uncertain world, we do not know if or when we will return. We left it behind, but parts of Mexico will stay with us forever.

And we continue moving forward, together with the Bear, along roads that keep surprising us, teaching us, opening our hearts, and helping us adapt to the many changes we are going through.

As a conclusion, a few summary photos:

A tribute to the dogs of Mexico

They are everywhere, in great numbers. In many places, they look like old floor rags — lying in the middle of the road, on sidewalks, at the entrances of houses — in a permanent siesta. In other places, they are more energetic, sometimes tied up, but most often free, and very, very friendly — much like the people beside them.

The Food

The colors, the flavors, the spices, the variety — tacos, tamales, quesadillas, tortillas, guacamole, soups of many kinds, coctel de camarones, empanadas, margaritas, and the fascinating sauces that arrive with every meal. Nothing compares to coconut water for quenching thirst and helping to regulate blood sugar on a hot, humid day. And still, whenever we came across a bakery with sourdough bread and good coffee, it was pure joy.

The Topes

Or the notorious speed bumps. There isn’t a driver in Mexico who doesn’t fear them, or who hasn’t encountered one — or several — in complete surprise. The yellow one in the top left won the title of the most brutal of them all.

They are so high that the only option is to stop completely before them and then crawl slowly over. They come in every possible shape, height, thickness, and color. Sometimes there is a warning sign before them, and sometimes there isn’t.

The Bear had never known anything like this before. In her comfortable life back in her home country (the US), she had never encountered such a challenge. But they definitely do the job — everyone slows down and drives more carefully, because the damage they can cause to cars is truly unimaginable.

The Colors

The colors of the plaster on the houses, the murals on the walls, the streets, the flags, the fabrics, the food already celebrated above, the people, the markets, the vegetation, the fruit and vegetable stands — everything is filled with vibrant colors and unique combinations. They remind us that everything is possible, that everything has its own kind of beauty, and we enjoy wrapping ourselves in such a colorful and lively reality.