My Life in Ruins

You know how sometimes you dream about going somewhere and then when you finally visit it doesn’t look half as beautiful as it did in all the photos? Tulum is definitely not one of those places.

As I found out much to my delight on my maiden journey there last week, photos you’ve seen of the seemingly endless stretches of bone-white sand and post-card perfect turquoise waters hardly do it justice. Tulum is even more enchanting in the flesh, and nowhere is this more evident than at the Mayan ruins in the off-the-grid Mexican oasis.


It was a blustery and rainy day when staff photographer Zach and I joined the throng of day-trippers traipsing the dirt road towards the centuries-old site, but when we finally reached the ruins’ famous cliffside Castillo it was every bit as stunning as it appears in photos, even in less-than-perfect weather. The ruins themselves are totally awe-inspiring (beats me how they built those complex structures entirely by hand) and as for the beach … well, put it this way: once I caught sight of it, I charged down the wooden staircase and plunged straight into the surf, even though I didn’t have a towel or change of clothes.


Despite my amateur photo-taking skills, I think you can appreciate the raw beauty of the scene. Trust me; as I sit here in the throes of yet another sticky South Florida summer, I’m seriously contemplating booking the next flight back.

My Life in Ruins