Starting from the tourist town of Tulum, an avenue is born that immerses you in the jungle for five kilometers until it reaches some of the most beautiful beaches in the Caribbean. The gas stations on the outskirts and the trucks that follow the scooter detract from the glamor of the Mexican paradise, but it doesn't matter. In the distance, the presence of a camouflaged hotel in the middle of nature is discovered, the blue spy among the palm trees and the luxury boutiques appear on the road. As I enter the section of the main road in Tulum Beach, the traffic jam forces me to stop and wait ten minutes. At some point, a butterfly flutters around my helmet.
On the side of the road a woman with Mayan features breaks coconuts. She has the look of someone who waits for the moon to dry her tears for the sun every night and roars of jaguars surround her. Next to her stand is a smoking copalera - they say that burning this type of resin or "palosanto" brings good luck to business - and a mountain of coconuts that she serves with straws to tourists in bathing suits and Prada sarongs. It will soon rain, judging by the clouds that announce the playful cyclones of this time. Cartier watches, a Ferrari, a horn, a skid, the shout of a beach club doorman arguing on the phone. A drill in the distance, a new hotel. The butterfly in my helmet opens its wings again and takes flight.
From the beach of Villa Pescadores a boat leaves for a specific point on the horizon. Here manta rays and turtles swim over a bed of marine skeletons and in the distance you can see the ruins of Tulum, the only -and most beautiful- set of Mayan remains with views of the sea. On board the boat, a pelican prepares to carry out its mutiny next to the fish fridge of two more sailors focused on serving tourists while listening to salsa. With my head under water, I remain inert and a manta ray brushes against me in full flight. I think she's trying to escape the festival of hands trying to touch her.
At Playa Paraíso they serve delicious suckling pig tacos accompanied by a michelada with extra Valentina sauce. Someone plays the lute under the palm trees and the dunes reveal the presence of the sargassum that this superlative blue sea began to expel more than a decade ago. Some hotels hire people exclusively to collect these mountains of endemic seaweed, as a strange rebuke to Mother Earth herself.
Returning from the beach, the motorcycle stops again in the traffic jam that shakes the jungle. The clouds have expelled their first drizzle. A pelican returns happy with a beak full of fish, a blue bird leaps from tree to tree, and a hummingbird leaves the depths of a cenote. Nature whispers, camouflages itself, seeks a refuge. The woman from Tulum who splits coconuts continues on the side of the road but, this time, her colors surround her. All the butterflies have flocked to her.
