Why this vibrant lakeside town in Mexico could be the new Tulum – The Telegraph

Counting the colours on Lake Bacalar was becoming a bit of an obsession. I was sipping coffee on the deck with a young woman who clearly knew her Pantone charts. “That’s Bluefish segueing into Reflex,” she said. It’s easy to see why Bacalar is known as the Laguna de Siete Colores (the lagoon of seven colours).  

The town sits right up on the farthest tip of Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, close to the border with Belize and a straightforward four-hour drive from Cancun. Eventually, the shoulder-to-shoulder all-inclusive resorts of the Riviera Maya fall away and a sleepier, slower Mexico emerges. 

People are always trying to pigeonhole Bacalar. It’s been called the new Tulum and the Mexican Maldives and has historically been popular with backpackers, but it’s become so much more than that. This small town with a big lagoon has an ambience and character all of its own.

Bacalar has been designated a Pueblo Magico (magical town) by the Mexican government in recognition of its cultural, historical and architectural importance. It’s a sleepy place that still feels local. Gusts of smoke from copal (burned to keep away mosquitoes) waft from buckets. Dogs loll on the pavement. There are a few boutiques touting classy beachwear, incense and crystals (so far, so Tulum), but shopping isn’t the major draw here. 

While the most popular street food is still marquesitas (crispy rolled pancakes filled with Nutella, cheese or fruit) and elotes (Mexican corn on the cob), new foodie outlets are pushing the boundaries.

El Manati, an immersive café/art gallery/boutique is brilliant for breakfast or brunch. Nao Bacalar is the place for sushi and cocktails with a side order of yoga classes (owner Oscar knows his mezcal, too), while Barba Negra serves great fish tacos. Jaguara is hopelessly romantic, set by the lake and serving fresh fish, superb ceviche and hibiscus-heavy cocktails.

But for truly inventive Mexican food, there’s Nixtamal. Fish on a bed of grilled watermelon with parmesan, pesto and picante sauce? Honestly, its unbelievably good. Everywhere you go, a generous bowl of freshly baked nachos with salsa and guacamole appears out of nowhere. Going hungry is not an option. 

There’s a fort and a museum but nobody really comes here for history lessons – it’s all about the lake, 37 miles long and just over a mile at its widest. Underground rivers feed it so you’ll find regular cenotes, sinkholes that can plunge to 90 metres deep. You can swim it and SUP (Stand up paddleboard) it; snorkel it and dive it; borrow a kayak or take a sightseeing boat trip to the prettiest spots. 

But be careful. Bacalar is renowned for its stromatolites, rock-like structures made by microbes that date back 3.5 billion years – the oldest evidence of life on Earth. They look like giant cauliflowers pushing up through the water, and they’re highly susceptible to environmental damage. 

In 2015 a pollution alert was issued for the lake and by 2020 there was a real danger that the lake of aqua, turquoise, cyan and teal could turn into the lake of dingy brown. Fortunately, thanks to growing awareness and care, Bacalar is pulling back. 

As part of this movement, new hotels tend to major in sustainable architecture and regenerative hospitality, supporting the local community while guarding nature. Naya Bacalar opened a year ago, an eco-chic enclave of eight tented jungle rooms (some with plunge pools). A further five rooms are coming soon on the lakefront. 

Boca de Agua meanwhile opened in October 2023 on an 82-acre site of largely untouched land that will form a conservation and regeneration programme. Not a single mangrove plant was removed or damaged in the build. Frida Escobedo, its architect, has opted for tropical modernism with 26 spacious treehouses crafted from local Forest Stewardship Council-certified chicozapote hardwood raised on pillars above the jungle floor. The Mexico City architect is best known for her urban designs, including London’s Serpentine Pavilion in 2018 and the new contemporary art wing at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art.

I stayed at Our Habitas Bacalar. This outpost of the sustainable luxe brand (one of four in Mexico) has a similar feel to Naya. More than 30 A-tented rooms float over the ground, minimising impact on the landscape. Some hang over the lagoon itself but my room was cradled in jungle, only overlooked by the occasional monkey. Construction here may be light on the land, but it’s heavy on creature comforts – artisanal rugs, blankets and cushions keep things snug; mini bars are well stocked and outdoor showers are powerful. At night, tiny candles light the winding path to your door. 

When not in your room, paddleboarding is a good way to explore the coves around the lagoon, some with little jetties; others with hammocks swinging over the water. 

A movement class (yoga, mindful movement, dance) happens at the civilised time of 9am. Breakfast afterwards, like all the food here, consists of generous portions of unpretentious, perfectly cooked local produce. All the usual hipster choices (avo toast, chia pudding) turn up but also chilaquiles (tortilla with avocado, tomato, egg; a bit like breakfast nachos) and motuleno toast (fried eggs with black beans, cheese and cream). For lunch or dinner, the smoky aguachile (like ceviche, but shrimp) beef tataki and wood-fired fish are particularly punchy. The deck is the only place for sundowners and a Baja el Sol (mezcal, lime and red pepper syrup) creates a warm glow as the night chills.

Group activities here have a suitably “Tulum” feel to them – sound healing, crystal kayaking, water meditation. The temazcal ritual, however, runs deeper. This is a traditional Mayan ceremony, held in a tiny pitch dark hut covered by brightly woven blankets – close cousin to the northern American sweat lodge. Ceremonies can last for several hours; the heat is intense – and those are just the physical challenges. Temazcal is traditionally a ritual of release; of letting go of fear and everything that holds you back, guided by the temazcalera or temazcalero (shamans).

Days flopped into one another as I did less and noticed more: a vine meandering up the thatch with baby blue flowers; a bandy-legged iguana; yet another shade of blue on the lake.

On my last evening in Bacalar, I sat on the dock, watching the moon scything a path across the lake. “Sailor Blue and Abalone,” I said to myself, then shook away the thought. You really shouldn’t label magic. 

Jane Alexander was a guest of Our Habitas Bacalar, which offers doubles from $265 (£210), including breakfast and the weekly programme of events. Temazcal ritual $90 (£71) per person.