Tranquility in Tulum

By Grace Alexander

After a series of poses we landed for a few breaths in downward dog as the welcome warmth of the equatorial sun peeked through openings in our thatched-roof yoga palapa. Perched on stilts 30 feet above the beach, we could see the vibrant turquoise of the Caribbean Sea through the palm fronds that fluttered at eye level, the sea breeze caressing us.

There were 15 of us on a yoga retreat hosted by the comely Jessica Bellofatto, a legendary yogini with a loyal following at Kama Deva, her East Hampton studio. She also cofounded Sag Harbor’s Yoga Shanti, but that is another story. Jessica is not just beautiful on the outside – think glacial eyes – she also seems to glow from within. And she is down to earth and nurturing. In her entourage are her boyfriend and kids, a willowy fifth grader who does contortions on her paddleboard and a two-year-old girl already braving the surf.

To say I was stressed when I arrived at Amansala, the chic oceanfront hotel playing host to the retreat, is an understatement. The hours-long wait at JFK, trying to sleep in an airport terminal, was bad enough. But a stop by taxi at an ATM to withdraw pesos to tip the driver yielded nothing. It is Mexico, after all. Luckily, the laid-back hotel greeter, Mike (originally from Iowa), loaned me ten bucks while also lending me a book on Eastern philosophy. Was he trying to tell me something?
While mornings were reserved for challenging sessions, evenings were for restorative yoga – the background sound of gentle surf melding with the mellow tones of Jessica’s comforting playlist and such words of wisdom as:

The all-inclusive meals were held in a multi-level palapa, open to the sea. The casual village feel of the resort reminded me of California in the sixties. I half expected to see a hippie replete with reefer hanging in a hammock. A hotshot Bridgehampton real estate broker, the only man in our group, compared it to Amagansett in 1959, where you’d find “a Woody and a long board.” Yes, except for the swaying coconut palms, the pelicans diving for snacks, and the tide that rises practically to the deck, just missing the beds that dot the powdery sand beach.

Tulum, a tranquil outpost on the Yucatán Peninsula two hours south of touristy Cancun, has become a magnet for well-heeled New Yorkers and Europeans. During the days we took off on adventures, often tooling down Tulum’s single road on bikes – one side carved out of the jungle, the other lined with trendy boutique hotels hugging the sea. The road ends north at the limestone ruins of a Mayan seaport and south at an entrance to the spectacular 2,000-square-mile biosphere reserve, Sian Ka’an (Mayan for “Where the sky is born”). One day Jessica took us paddleboarding on a lagoon there, surrounded by tropical forests. We balanced in poses on our boards while listening to the birdcall chatter of the park’s more than 300 bird species. We didn’t spot any of the many jaguars, pumas or ocelots that roam the land. Afterward we lounged on pillows on a dock sipping fresh juice and exfoliated ourselves with the mineral-rich silt from the lagoon floor. “This is heaven,” someone said. Yes.

There are several yoginis in our group – from a Palm Beach art dealer to a veterinarian from Spokane. Ursula, a yoga beginner, had been worried that she wouldn’t be able to keep up, but she says: “Jessica never dumbed it down for me. I had such a feeling of accomplishment.”

The next Tulum retreat will take place January 29 – February 4, 2017. Jessica will also be hosting yoga, standup paddleboard and surfing retreats in such exotic locales as Italy, Greece and Puerto Rico.