La Creperia – Tulum, Quintana Roo, Mexico

It's our last full day in Tulum, and it's the only day we get to sleep in. Vacation, #kelseystyle; this is how we roll. The smell of leisure emanates from our brunch crepes , the first of two days in a row that we eat here, the first of two days in a row that we're not eating breakfast in the back of a van.

La Creperia is so new it’s not even on Yelp, which makes me question whether it exists at all, but the hard-hitting Ham & Mozzerella Crepe is as real as it gets. The herbs shine through, an oregano-parsley mixto that adds some pep in the step to everyone's favorite childhood lunch.

They do advertise their drinks the most, but I don’t feel it’s their forte. The coffee is fine, but my Passionfruit Italian Soda is barely-fizzy sugar-water...

And the Mango Smoothie is a mason jar of semi-sweet yogurt where they forgot to add mango.

The Mango & Nutella Crepe makes better use of mango, hazelnut spread with bits of sweet, pulpy pieces tucked in. Not the best pairing with Nutella, but that's my fault, not theirs - they still do it well.

The Kiwi & Lemon Cream Crepe is where is starts to get weird. There is such a thing as bad fruit, I guess. The kiwi is fresh, but the lemon is unpleasantly tart with a bitter finish, and the yogurt-y sour cream on top doesn't help.

The Dark Chocolate & Banana Crepe brings it back. Heavy in a light crepe, melty chocolate and sweet 'nanners. Classic in the best way possible.

If you're staying at Posada del Sol, La Creperia is too convenient to skip. It's right by the road so you get a lovely view of cars driving by, but it's also the best place to pop out a laptop or sit and sip while you read a magazine. Save your pesos for the smoothies at Restaurant Tunich next door, but do take a moment to have a crepe...or two.

La Nave – Tulum, Quintana Roo, Mexico

Too much beach bumming, we decide. Let's have a night on the town. The restaurant selection is more vast, and the prices a whole lot nicer.

La Nave is recommended for their pizza, and the Lobster Pizza does its job. The thin-crust is so thin and crispy it makes matzo look thick. Less dough makes more toppings shine through. The lobster gets a little tough from the oven, but the basil leaves bring out the flavors of a fantastic tomato sauce. Maybe it's just me, but Tulum's tomatoes taste of an earthy, sweet sunshine that I've never found anywhere on earth.

The Smoothies are something else. My mango, papaya, and melon is awesome-awesome, a giant punch-bowl cup of silky blends. The orange, chayo, and pineapple smoothie is a refreshing kiss of crisp spinach-kale, a tart tangerine-orange, and an easy-breezy pina without the colada.

The 4 Formaggi Gnocchi is a mistake. The gnocchi are soft and really well-made, but they flounder in a cream sauce with no detectable flavor, and there is just so much sauce that each bite feels like suffocation.

The food is fine at La Nave, but I don't know if I'd eat dinner there again. I would love to grab some apps and drinks on another night, and the prices are a heck of a lot better than the beach, but there must be better places to eat in town.

Sian Ka'an Biosphere – Tulum, Quintana Roo, Mexico

You learn a little something about yourself every time you travel. You learn what you like, you learn how to deal when things don't go your way, and you even learn to communicate without a single word.

Lesson #1: My FOMO trumps all, even spiders. I want a free day to be a beach bum, but there is a biosphere further south, and there is absolutely nothing in the world that can convince me to save it for the next trip.

Sian Ka'an is WORTH IT. We start by getting into boats and speeding through a blue lagoon. Lesson #2: Our new GoPro is also WORTH IT.

A brief visit to what remains of a Mayan trading post...

And then we don our life jackets like diapers for a float down the Ancient Canal. The mangroves add their mystique, and tranquility settles in as we coast through the tunnel of trees. The freshwater is cold, and the sand is squishy at the bottom...and Lesson #3: I am prissy AF. Gorgeous cenotes, and a mangrove-lined canal, and all I keep thinking about is whether or not slow-flowing freshwater is all that sanitary.

The floating ends too soon, but a brief boat ride leaves us on an isthmus of a beach, white sand jutting out in a small strip.

There is no such thing as too much sun on your (sunblocked) skin or too much wind in your sandy hair, but if I said the boat ride back wasn't exhausting, I'd be lying. Fortunately, there is a generous feast waiting for us, and there's nothing like a great meal to take the edge off.

We sit down to lunch, and Lesson #4: My Spanish is terrible. As is my French, my English, my Italian (which I don't actually speak), as well as the other two languages the woman across the table speaks. She is remarkable, switching from Spanish with the tour guide to English with myself, French with her family, and Italian with two other tourists at the table. She switches between them imperceptibly, to the point that you're confused. You literally don't understand her for a full minute before you realize she switched. And here I am boasting of my 5 year-old Mandarin and broken French. Donde esta el bano?

I am so entranced that I almost forget to eat. Almost. The flavor in their Pibil Chicken runs even deeper than Hostaria del Marques, and there is a spiciness to it that finishes slightly bitter.

The Pibil Fish is ever better, a clean, flaky grouper smothered in seasoning with the same achiote base.

Lesson #5: I will never escape the mosquitoes. No one else has a single bite, but they find me all the same. They bite the dime-sized spots where my bug repellent has missed, and there is no place too bony, no spot too small. I only get a few, though, which is far better than my usual 10-15. But it's worth it. It's worth all the bites in the world to get to see this nature preserve, and of all the tours I've taken, they definitely win for best food.

Posada Margherita – Tulum, Quintana Roo, Mexico

Late lunch, early dinner. The van drops us off, and we haven't run out of daylight. Posada Margherita's pasta has a degree of associated impetus, and I can't wait to walk off the two-hour ride. It's a hard half-mile down the single-lane beach road. You share the street with the cars, and you have to walk fast at 5 PM because it gets pretty scary without streetlights after dark.

The hotel that houses the restaurant is beautiful, but it's the last of the non-resorts. The Zona Hotelera is a lot longer than I expected, and the ritziness grows with every step.

The restaurant itself is pretty in its serenity. High-top tables in the back, and low-tops in the front, all with a perfect ocean view.

 

Couples frolic and children play in the sand as we sip our sugary, well-balanced cocktails. Mine is a light cucumber, and his is, as usual, bright, manly pink.

This Posada doesn't play. Only cash has value, and the prices are in USD. They know they're for tourists, and much respect for being up front about it. We balk at the prices at first, the Al Pomodoro Fresco starts at a whopping $16. For a small-medium bowl of fettuccine with tomato sauce, it better be the best damn pasta I’ve ever had. And Italy be damned, it is. The fettuccine is hand-rolled into thick, ropy vines of al dente, and the sauce sticks to every chewy cord. I can appreciate a good pomodoro, but I've never been a fan. This is that one that changes my mind. I may scoff at most restaurants that boast of all-organic fare, but this is where they're different. Their tomatoes are impossibly sweet, and they taste like rays of sunshine baked into a juicy orb. They taste of more red, more radiance, and more tomato than anything I’ve ever had.

Their portions are a bit modest, but their generous comp-tray of Focaccia will fill you up. The pickled cauliflower is hard and crumbly like the chunks of Parmesan on the side, and the bread has various delightful topping as well. The tomato is tart, the Italian herbs are a breath of fresh basil and oregano, and the plain is browned with sprinkles of cheese.

The Gamberi al Vino comes with only five shrimp, but these shrimp are on steroids. If there were a Mr. Universe contest for shrimp, at least two of these would win. These sea monsters make other jumbo shrimp look like krill. They’re easy to peel, and they’re as tender as a filet of fish. They bask in a sticky wine-based sauce, and the shells are soaked all the way through.

We love our meal, but we still skip dessert. We've had enough of this side of the beach. Because despite being only half a mile away, the face of this paradise changes and not for the better. Only a small, rockier beach separates our hotel from the southern strip of the Zona Hotelera, but all of the breathtaking beaches beyond are made private by arm-and-a-leg resorts and yoga retreats. We didn't know it at the time, but we broke a boundary and crossed a line when we ventured into that territory, and Posada Margherita showed us as much. The hotel is shabby-chic, advertising eco-friendly rooms. But when the cheapest room is $330, I don't know who you think you've fooled. It's all rich hipsters down here, and a thin tunic costs $400 in the next-door boutique. You do get what you pay for at Posada Margherita, but sometimes I'd rather just have a two-dollar taco.

Hostaria del Marques - Valladolid, Mexico

FEED ME. Feed me anything, I don't care what it is. The only critique I have for this tour is that fact that they really don't time the food well. A banana between 8 AM and 1 PM holds no one over, and even a giant hot dog at Chichen Itza and couple of black bean tortillas at the cenote fail to make me less hangry.

Fresh fruit juice for a sugar fix, and I love my melon, fresh-squeezed.

Guacamole is made tableside, with avocados so ripe they taste like cream.

Already, I'm significantly less murderous, and the Pollo Pibil seals the deal. Shredded chicken falling off the bone; a fluorescent, achiote-red steams festively as I seethe, burnt-red offset by an olive-green banana leaf.

The Poc Chuc has less character, but in it's own way, it's good. The pork version of carne asada, it is a giant, thin-cut slice of pork, simply-marinated and tasting of deep coals. The pork is on the lighter side, but the grill-lines smolder like the heart of the hearth.

The Flan is a textbook flan, an eggy custard. Sweet with a hint of sulfurous egg, room-temp, and just dense enough.

The Lime Sorbet is refreshing, literally ice with a rushing sour sting. It doesn't last long, and my blood sugar finally gets high enough for me to look around.

The hotel courtyard is gorgeous, simple tables framed by flowing arches, and just enough green to give it a garden feel. The town of Valladolid is generically cute, and this hotel may be the only sight worth seeing unless you're really into shopping. Regardless, this is by far not the worst place you could eat after a long day in Chichen Itza.