Three Perfect Days: Lima
Story by Chris Wilson | Photography by Jessica Sample | Hemispheres, May 2014
Once a mere stopover on the way to the majestic Incan ruins of Machu Picchu, Lima has established itself as a fascinating destination in its own right. In part, the revival of this chaotic city of 8.6 million people can be summed up in a single word: food. The Peruvian capital is fast becoming the culinary crown jewel of South America, with world-class restaurants now as commonplace as shops selling alpaca scarves.
Peru's rich biodiversity and plentiful supply of fish, fruits, vegetables and herbs—plus a deep talent pool of local chefs—have made Lima's ascension to the top of the foodie chain inevitable, and have helped spark a significant surge in tourism. Whether it's the trendy bars of Miraflores, the chic galleries and shops of Barranco or the thrum of San Isidro's financial district, Lima has never been livelier.
It wasn't always this way. Peru's Shining Path guerrilla movement in the 1980s and '90s earned Lima an unsavory reputation. But, more recently, the city has been rebranded as a peaceful, accommodating modern metropolis on the rise—deservedly so. Besides its outstanding eats, Lima boasts astounding archaeological sites, top-notch cultural institutions and a vibrant nightlife scene.
That said, it's still just a short plane ride from here to Cuzco, the mountainous region that's home to Machu Picchu—perhaps the most stunning place on Earth and, as such, a required visit if you're nearby.
DAY ONE | You check in early at Hotel B, a restored 1914 mansion that opened last year in the boho-chic Barranco district. You're handed an oversize iron key and head upstairs to your funky suite, which happens to have a sculpture of an electric chair outside the door. You stow your bags and have an invigorating sweat in the private steam room, after which you're ready to face the day.
Having deposited your doorstop/key at the desk, you cross the street to Dédalo, a craft shop stocked with painted wooden chickens, stone pigs and cartoon-colorful Andean textiles. You have a quick browse and head toward the beaches along Barranco's Pacific coast, where wetsuited surfers paddle out to catch long, steady waves while paragliders drift below pillowy clouds.
A street act works the crowd in Plaza Mayor
A stroll along the waterfront brings you to Second Home, local artist Victor Delfín's workplace and gallery. For 20 sol, or about $7, you're buzzed into a sculpture garden overrun by metal horses, lions and condors. African orange tulips litter the grass like deflated party balloons. A huge stone puma head spews water into a pool. Delfín murmurs hello as he touches up a canvas in a studio overlooking the ocean.
You continue your dreamy march across the Bridge of Sighs—a wooden walkway where, legend has it, you're supposed to hold your breath and make a wish before crossing—and stop by Mate, a museum owned by famed Peruvian fashion photographer Mario Testino. A gallery assistant hands you an iPod that guides you through a riotous Pop-Art retrospective featuring Keith Haring, Julian Schnabel, Richard Prince and Nate Lowman. Sipping espresso in the museum cafe's tranquil sliver of a courtyard, you mull your first important decision of the day: where to eat lunch?
You go with Sonia, a destination for rustic seafood in the nearby suburb of Chorrillos. Sitting under a bamboo canopy, you order wooden spoons heaped with mind-blowingly fresh ceviche, hunks of cured tuna known as “fisherman's ham," fat red crab claws crusted with Parmesan, phenomenal flounder in yellow chili sauce, and a dish of salted corn, all washed down with icy Pilsen Callao. As “My Way" plays softly in Spanish, owner Fredy Guardia sews a fishing net at a table under one of his many poems , which adorn the walls.
After this near-perfect meal, you drive to Pueblo Libre to visit Museo Larco, Lima's most intriguing and important museum. You walk up a path bursting with bougainvillea in red, lavender, orange, yellow and pale blue, while green parrots squawk from the trees and a friendly cat negotiates your ankles. The walkway leads to a sprawling succession of spaces containing 45,000 pieces of pre-Columbian art. It's one of only a few museums in the world with storage areas that are open to the public.
Victor Delfín puts the finishing touches on a canvas in his studio at Second Home
Among the artifacts on display here are ceremonial blood bowls and cracked human skulls from Incan trephination operations. If that seems a bit macabre, there is ample comic relief in the popular erotic pottery room. Here you find ancient Peruvian burial pots celebrating the art of contortionism. Many pots like these were destroyed by mortified conquistadors, which makes the exhibit as essential as it is entertaining. After a trip back to Hotel B to freshen up—and perhaps cleanse your psyche—it's time for dinner.
Tonight you're eating at Maido, Chef Mitsuharu Tsumura's temple of Nikkei cuisine, in Miraflores. The dishes come in waves: a classic usuzukuri with rock fish, ponzu, crispy garlic and tomatoes; a ceviche of mackerel, scallops, clams, smoked yellow pepper “tiger's milk" and avocado; foie gras “sushi" in eel sauce; breaded shrimp, avocado, cream cheese and chimichurri, finished tableside with a blowtorch; fried pejesapo sliders with tartar sauce on steamed buns; black cod marinated in miso and aji panca chili; and an impossibly tender Nitsuke braised short rib with fried rice. It's high-end Peruvian-Japanese comfort food at its finest, downed with plenty of sake and Sapporo beer and finished with an intense trio of chocolates.
You work off a small fraction of the calories consumed during a 10-minute waddle to La Emolienteria, a lively pisco bar in Miraflores. A DJ spins electronic dance music as youngsters nod rhythmically from Day-Glo stools fashioned from wheelbarrows. After a few puckeringly good Pisco Sours made with Pisco Portón, you cab it back to the hotel. A copy of Theodore Roethke's poem “The Waking" has been laid on your pillow: “I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow." You take that as a cue to knock off.
Three caballeros at Casa Hacienda Los Ficus
DAY TWO | You wake up feeling a little delicate, your condition accentuated by the knowledge that you're about to drive downtown. Navigating Peru's congested capital is a blend of white-knuckle drama and stop-start purgatory. After an eventful hour or so zipping through a snarl of cars, mopeds, taxis and buses, you arrive at Plaza Mayor, where breakfast awaits at the wonderfully old-timey Bar Cordano, right across the street from the heavily guarded Presidential Palace.
Inside the bar, a counterman makes exquisite butifarra sandwiches, slicing cold ham prepared two ways—glazed with sugary syrup or sprinkled with extra salt—then piled on a roll under salsa criolla (onions and lemon juice). It's as good a ham sandwich as you're likely to have, in Lima or anywhere else. You chase it with a strong coffee from the rickety Gaggia machine and then sample one of Bar Cordano's beautiful causas, classic Peruvian potato dishes displayed under glass like prize tarts in a Parisian bakery.
Revived, you wade through the crowds to tour the Church of San Francisco, a Spanish Baroque complex built in the mid-1500s, flattened by an earthquake a century later and reconsecrated in 1673. Inside, gazing upon Marcos Zapata's “Last Supper"—in which Jesus and his disciples dine on cuy, or roasted guinea pig—you are struck by the sobering thought that 75,000 bodies are interred in the church's cavernous stone catacombs. You hear a clicking noise, which could be someone taking pictures or a skeleton shifting in one of the crypts.
Next, you roll down the Old Pan-American Highway, past dusty roadside chicharrón stalls and flower shops in the Lurín Valley. Your destination is Casa Hacienda Los Ficus, a ranch owned by Fernando and Elsa Puga, who breed Peruvian Pasos—the “dancing" horses renowned for their ability to trot sideways. Luckily, you're in time for a show, which culminates in a steed prancing alongside a woman in traditional garb to the strains of piped-in marinera music. Later, you lounge on the hacienda's vast lawn, Pisco Sour in hand, and tuck into a rustic lunch of mashed white beans, potatoes and roast chicken.
A Victor Delfín statue at El Parque del Amor
On the way back to Lima, you stop at the Pachacamac Ruins, about half an hour south of the city. You spend an unsettling hour looping around 18 pre-Incan pyramids that sit on a patch of earth so parched and unforgiving it could be on another planet. As if the landscape weren't forbidding enough, you learn that archaeologists recently uncovered a massive pre-Incan tomb here, which included 70 skeletons wearing false wooden heads, along with evidence of ritual human sacrifice. You snap a few pictures and beat a shuddering retreat.
After washing away the residue of sand and dread back at the hotel (and, unexpectedly, passing chimp expert Jane Goodall in the lobby), you head out for dinner: a nine-course extravaganza at Central Restaurante, a short drive away in Miraflores. You pull up to an unmarked cedar door flanked by two men in dark suits. You're ushered into the sleek, 80-seat restaurant and seated near the windowed kitchen run by revered chef Virgilio Martínez. The conceit behind the high-concept menu is a culinary voyage across four Peruvian terrains: sea, coast, Andes and Amazon.
The dishes appear rapidly, baffling in their complexity. Highlights include a sublime octopus, purple corn, olive and limón chili plate; a frozen potato puree dotted with cushuro, a fish roe–like bacteria from the Andes; raw river shrimp with Amazonian sacha inchi seeds; arapaima fish with hearts of palm; an 18-hour stewed lamb; and frozen huampo wood extract with Amazonian bahuaja nuts and a shot of maca tree sap. Each course is paired with a well-curated wine. What a trip.
It's late, but you decide to keep the party going with elixirs of questionable provenance at Ayahuasca in Barranco, a rambling, psychedelic-themed villa that is named after a powerful Amazonian hallucinogenic. You have one of their deceptively punchy fruit-infused pisco specials, then another, then maybe one more, then call it a night before those crazy wooden-headed skeletons start dancing again, man.
The Pachacamac ruins
DAY THREE | You have another long day of eating and imbibing ahead, so you refrain from overindulging in the butifarras, empanadas, pies, éclairs and tarts at La Espiga de Oro bakery down the block from Hotel B. Feeling unusually healthful, you swing by Las Delicias, a gem of a juice bar in Miraflores, and sample a fresh-squeezed guanábana and lucúma combo, one of dozens of fruity mixtures available.
Bursting with vigor (and, yes, empanadas) you visit the oceanside El Parque del Amor, where couples come to sit on cuddle-friendly benches and take in the view. Lacking a co-canoodler of your own, you read the whimsical love poems displayed beside the seats with furious concentration before focusing intently on a large sculpture of a smooching couple made by Victor Delfín (he whose garden you previously enjoyed).
Having lingered in the Park of Love for as long as is reasonable, you drive to Mercado Surquillo No. 1, a traditional Peruvian market cluttered with swinging sides of beef, whole pigs, exotic fruits and teetering plastic bags filled with coca leaves and dried hot peppers. As you zigzag among the stalls, your appetite starts to assert itself again.
The freshest fish and crab stew at Sonia
Fittingly, your next stop is Chez Wong, a local institution set in the home of Chinese-Peruvian chef Javier Wong. Pulling up to the reservation-only, eight-table eatery tucked away in gritty La Victoria, you buzz an unmarked door and are led inside. There is no menu. Wong, in trademark flat cap and shades, serves everyone the same two-course meal: a Pacific flounder and octopus ceviche and a fish saltado, or stir-fry.
“Ceviche is the perfection of something simple," Wong says. You consider this bit of wisdom while inhaling a mound of his fresh and flavorful signature dish. The stir-fry consists of more flounder thrown into a sizzling wok with red bell pepper, bok choy and mushrooms in a pisco-spiked brown sauce. The dish may look like gloppy Chinese takeout, but it's astoundingly good. Wong, meanwhile, puffs a cigarette in his tiny kitchen as flames shoot from the pan, but no one seems to mind. It is, after all, his house.
Next, head to Bar Inglés, at the grand Country Club Hotel in San Isidro, where bartender Roberto Meléndez is renowned for mixing outrageously good Pisco Sours—he has been serving Peru's beloved national cocktail here since 1998. A frothy blend of pisco, lime juice, simple syrup and egg whites, the recipe for the Meléndez version was passed down to him by his bartender father, who served it to John Wayne at Lima's fabled Hotel Maury in the 1950s. “It's my responsibility," Meléndez says, “to maintain the drink's reputation."
A Pisco Sour or three later (who's counting?), you clear your head at Parque El Olívar in San Isidro, a rambling grove of more than 1,500 gnarled olive trees, many of which are over a century old. It's a calm, enchanting spot, and you spend a happy hour wandering around enjoying the sensation of having not a single thought in your head.
Chez Wong chef Javier Wong
From here, you prepare to indulge in one of Lima's more decadent dining experiences: the 24-course tasting dinner at Astrid & Gastón, in Miraflores. This four-hour feast is the keynote experience at Michelin-starred chef Gastón Acurio's flagship restaurant. The crystal chandeliers and moleskin-bound menu/historical narrative quickly set the tone. You're even given a CD of schmaltzy music that you can play later to evoke memories of your meal.
Moments after you are seated, a miniature steamer trunk is opened before you, revealing an array of edible morsels that include salted fish with mascarpone and a ham-and-fruit puff. Next comes alpaca tortellini, a guinea pig terrine, scallops in coral broth and Parmesan, yellow potato gnocchi, quail with corn … it goes on like this, over and over, each dish paired with a very good wine, making for one of the more pleasurable evenings you've spent.
Despite the risk of descending into a food-induced coma, you pluck up the energy for a final stop at El Sargento Pimienta, a barnlike club in Barranco where you can catch live shows by scruffy rock bands and jostle with mobs of Cusqueña-beer-swilling Limeños. The guys onstage, you are told, are a local outfit named Libido. They are loud.
Later, at the hotel, you find that an art-show party next door has spilled into the bar. Oh, go on, you think, why not? The bartender pours you a house special, a bracing G&T served in a small fishbowl, as a Spanish version of Nancy Sinatra's “Bang Bang" lulls you into a pleasing stupor.
That was fun, but you're happy to be up in your room, burying your head in a fat pillow. You think of Morrissey, the alt-pop idol who came to Lima last year and, in typical style, described the city as “my heart's lighthouse." Hmm, you think, and then you are gone.
Writer Chris Wilson hasn't had a Pisco Sour since he left Peru, but he's still seeing those dancing wooden-headed skeletons.
This article was written by Chris Wilson from Rhapsody Magazine and was legally licensed through the NewsCred publisher network. Please direct all licensing questions to legal@newscred.com.
The day off: Washington D.C.
9 a.m.
Wake up in your spacious room at the InterContinental Washington D.C. – The Wharf, with floor-to-ceiling views of sailboats gliding down the Washington Channel, and forget for a moment that the craziness of Capitol Hill is just five miles away. Snap a photo of the waterfall chandelier in the lobby before popping next door for a delicious egg and bacon biscuit sandwich at Dolcezza, the first outpost of the D.C. mini-chain to offer a full breakfast menu.
Photo by Mark DeLong
10 a.m.
Hop a cab to the National Portrait Gallery, where you can take a selfie with Barack Obama (well, Kehinde Wiley's depiction of the 44th president) before viewing an entire exhibit on the art of the selfie, Eye to I: Self-Portraits from 1900 to Today, which features works by James Amos Porter, Elaine de Kooning, and more. Afterward, muse on the concept of identity under the undulating glass ceiling in the gallery's stunning Kogod Courtyard.
Photo provided by the National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution/gift of Dorothy Porter Wesley
1 p.m.
Take the Metro's Green Line up to U Street for a taste of Little Havana at Colada Shop. The small counter spot dispenses flaky empanadas, decadent Cubanos, and the café's namesake—four shots of espresso commingling with sweet Cuban crema. You know you want one.
3 p.m.
Time to hit the National Mall and work off that caffeine injection. Every winter, the fountain at the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden becomes an ice rink, where you can take in Alexander Calder's Cheval Rouge and Louise Bourgeois's Spider while practicing your triple lutz.
Photo by Mandel Ngan/AFP/Getty Images
5 p.m.
Cab over to the Kennedy Center for the free 6 p.m. show at Millennium Stage, offered every single night as part of the cultural hub's Performing Arts for Everyone initiative. Whether it's modern dance, West African blues, or experimental theater, it'll broaden your horizons.
Photo by Teresa Wood
7:30 p.m.
Give in to your carb cravings at the Michelin-starred Tail Up Goat, a relaxed yet polished restaurant in the Adams Morgan neighborhood. Toss back the complimentary shrub (tart!) and then dive into the red fife brioche (topped with chicken liver mousse, blueberry marmalade, and wood sorrel) and goat lasagna with tomato, anchovy, and salsa verde.
9:30 p.m.
Catch a ride to Blagden Alley—a historic area that used to house the stables and workshops behind stately row houses—for a cocktail at Columbia Room, a lounge that has topped every best-of list imaginable. Score a seat in the leather- and mahogany-lined Spirits Library and order a Maryland, made with rye, applejack, and chartreuse. Then get another.
Photo by Karlin Villondo Photography
3 under the radar places to visit in December
Isla Holbox, Mexico
For a leisurely vacation to relax on uncrowded beaches
Seeking a destination where you can unplug and sink your toes into the sand while surrounded by natural beauty? Isla Holbox is the spot. This laid-back island sits on the northwest tip of Mexico's Yucatan peninsula. It boasts spectacular beaches with endless turquoise ocean views.
What to do
Pack your flip-flops and beach reads for a seriously laid-back trip to Isla Holbox. Come here to sit on the beach (or in a hammock) while you kick back and relax as you've never relaxed before. Enjoy spectacular beaches without crowds.
Isla Holbox is small — just 26 miles long and one mile wide, with only 2,000 full-time residents. Bright colors and painted murals throughout the area evoke a bohemian vibe. Instead of cars, most people get around by golf cart or bike. (In fact, its taxi cabs are actually golf carts.) Isla Holbox won't give you the lively nightlife of popular tourist destinations like nearby Cancun, but there are plenty of beachside bars serving cocktails, food vendors and restaurants serving fresh Mexican fare.
Go on a wildlife excursion to spot whale sharks, crocodiles or flamingos. Head to the Yum-Balam Nature Reserve to see other exotic animals.
Getting there
The closest airport is Cancun (CUN). From Cancun, head to Chiquila, where you can take the ferry to Isla Holbox.
St. Petersburg, Florida
A family-friendly beach destination for fun in the sun
With award-winning beaches offering 35 miles of sand along Tampa Bay, calm waters and plenty of sun, St. Petersburg is quickly gaining momentum as a warm-weather destination for families. Downtown is home to many shops, restaurants, bars and unique attractions, such as an impressive Salvador Dali museum.
What to do
St. Pete beaches are known for their calm, warm and shallow waters. Add 360 days of sunshine per year and an average temperature of 73 degrees, and it's surprising that this sunny beach city still flies under the radar. Keep it laid back by relaxing on the shore, or bump up the action by parasailing, windsurfing or kiteboarding.
After a day of R&R, head downtown to enjoy the lively St. Petersburg culture and nightlife. There are 35 local craft breweries to choose from and many seafood restaurants ranging from casual fare to upscale. The most extensive collection of Salvador Dali's artwork outside of Europe resides in The Dalí Museum. You can even meet a local celebrity at the Clearwater Marine Aquarium — Winter the dolphin starred in the Dolphin Tale movies and is famous for her prosthetic tail.
Getting there
United offers direct service to Tampa / St. Petersburg (TPA) from many U.S. cities.
Grand Canyon, Arizona
To have one of the most magnificent national parks (almost) to yourself
Though the weather is crisp and the temperature a few degrees chillier, the sun shines all month long at Grand Canyon National Park. Traveling here during the low season means fewer visitors will crowd your panoramic views of one of the world's largest canyons and most magnificent natural wonders.
What to do
From scenic drives to backcountry hiking, visiting in the winter makes for a more tranquil and peaceful adventure. The South Rim remains open all year round. The national park offers many trails to view the Colorado River snaking through snow-dusted temples and buttes. Try to catch at least one sunset or sunrise, and be sure to arrive with enough time to stake out a good vantage point. The visitors center and park website have recommendations for the best spots.
Ride the Grand Canyon Railway and travel back in time. A 64-mile stretch of railroad has been transporting passengers from the South Rim to the small town of Williams, Arizona, since 1901. The historic train has an observation dome car to catch the spectacular scenery and even has Wild West-themed entertainment aboard. Every evening in December, the Grand Canyon Railway transforms into the Polar Express and makes a stop at the North Pole where Santa boards the train to greet everyone.
Getting there
Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport is the closest major international airport to the South Rim. United offers service to Phoenix (PHX) from multiple U.S. cities.
For details and to book your trip, visit united.com or use the United app. Don't forget to share your story on social media with the #MyUnitedJourney hashtag once you arrive.
Three Perfect Days: Riviera Maya
As legend has it, in the 1970s and '80s, when the area first became a destination, tourists traveling by boat from neighboring Cozumel would disembark in Playa—then known as Xaman-Ha—on their way to the ruins of Tulum. A local Maya woman named Carmen would happily invite these travelers into her modest home for a traditional meal of fresh-caught seafood. She may not have had any experience with immaculate conception, but when it comes to Playa, this Carmen is definitely a matron saint. Today, her spirit can be felt throughout the Riviera Maya, which also includes the village of Tulum, the ruins of Cobá, and a number of small Maya communities on the Caribbean side of the Yucatán Peninsula where, if you're lucky, a woman not unlike Carmen will happily invite you into her home for a meal.
Day 1
Exploring a Maya temple, befriending a butler and feasting on cochinita pibil
I eat grasshoppers for breakfast. No, this is not my way of saying I know how to handle a subordinate. I'm literally eating toasted grasshoppers sprinkled onto a dish of huevos rancheros with green tomatillo salsa, hoja santa, and goat cheese. I've just woken up at Playa del Carmen's Rosewood Mayakoba, which is perhaps the most luxurious resort I've ever stayed in (and I'm a travel writer). There's a private heated plunge pool outside my back door looking over a secluded lagoon, a spa Forbes rated one of the best in the world, and Tavo, my personal butler, who is at my beck and call through a Rosewood messaging app.
The sikil-p'aak tomato salad at La Ceiba Garden & Kitchen
A bottle of tequila and some toothpaste?
Certainly, Mr. Heller.
Despite all this luxury, I'm eating bugs—albeit with a Bloody Mary at a beachside restaurant overlooking the Caribbean. The toasted grasshoppers are crunchy (like perfectly burnt popcorn), incredibly delicious, and an appropriately indigenous start to a morning in which I'll be exploring the ruins of an ancient civilization.
After traveling inland to the village of Cobá, I trade my rental car for a “Maya taxi." It's the Yucatán version of a rickshaw—a padded bench fashioned atop the front wheel of a bicycle with a beach umbrella protecting me from the rain. My driver, Gustino, is transporting me through a mile of jungle and more than a millennium back in time, to the Late Classic (AD 550–830) Maya ruin of the Nohoch Mul Pyramid. The dirt path bustles with all manner of tourists riding Maya taxis, pedaling rented beach cruisers, or walking, excitedly talking about the sites of this ancient city in English, Spanish, German, Russian, and who knows what else.
As Gustino struggles to pedal through a particularly rough patch of mud, I ask him what nationality of tourist is the hardest to transport.
The Ixmoja pyramid at Cobá
“The Germans," he says. “It's not that they're overweight. They're just a very sturdy people. Americans are preferred: very easygoing and friendly people. Everybody wants an American fare."
When we arrive at Nohoch Mul, the panoply of tourists is suddenly speaking the same language: speechless. At 138 feet tall, the sheer scale of this temple is rivaled only by the gleaming hotels going up on the coast. But out here in the Cobá jungle, after I break the canopy and reach Nohoch Mul's summit, it's nothing but green as far as the eye can see, under which is apparently some 30 square miles of ancient city, most of it still obscured by the jungle. I'm told that just 5 percent of Cobá has been excavated since the project started in the 1970s.
"Today, if you come early in the morning, you find corn and beans here left by the local Maya, who continue to offer sacrifices to the gods."
“And what did they do with this little platform?" I ask Diego Viadero, my knowledgeable Tours by Locals guide, who's been schooling me on all manner of Maya history.
“Ah, yes," he says. “That's where the rulers would offer sacrifices to the gods, in hopes that they could avoid a collapse of the city."
“You mean like in the movie Apocalypto, where they chopped off the heads?" I ask.
“Just like in Apocalypto," says Viadero, doing his best to hold back an eye-roll. “Today, if you come early in the morning, you'll find corn and beans here left by the local Maya, who continue to offer sacrifices to the gods."
“Do you think it's enough?" I ask, making the comparison to the more (ahem) substantial offerings of yore. Let the eye-rolling commence.
The Rosewood Mayakoba's Sense Spa
Next, Viadero takes me to Nojoch Keej, which is Mayan for El Venado Grande, which is Spanish for “The Big Deer." It's a sanctuary for endangered animals run by a Maya man named Manuel Poot Dzib out of his back yard in the village of Nuevo Durango. Poot Dzib started the sanctuary in 2005, after Hurricane Wilma destroyed the habitats of many local animals. He now looks after bees (which produce honey that's said to have healing qualities), white-tail deer, paca, curassow, and ocellated turkeys, which he aims to repopulate in areas that are protected from hunters. From the looks of these turkeys, I think ocellated must be Mayan for peacock. They're vibrant, multicolored, and beautiful to look at.
"Tavo leaves me to my plunge pool, where I enjoy my cocktail to the sound of a rainbow-billed toucan flapping around the lagoon."
Poot Dzib asks us to stay for lunch, which is great, because I'm starving. “We're having cochinita pibil—es muy delicioso," he adds, giving off some of that Carmen spirit.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I learn that cochinita pibil is not Spanish for ocellated turkey. It's achiote-marinated pork that's been cooking with banana leaf in a hole in the ground in Poot Dzib's front yard since 8 this morning.
“They normally only do this for the Day of the Dead or other special occasions," Viadero says as we watch Poot Dzib remove the dirt and corrugated metal covering his subterranean oven.
A home-cooked meal, Maya-style
“We used to cover it with banana leaf instead of metal, but that's a much harder and longer process," says Poot Dzib. “This is more modern."
Modern? I'm not so sure, but I grant Poot Dzib that it's certainly an update. In any event, when put on a handmade tortilla with pickled onions and habanero, this cochinita pibil is definitely mouthwatering.
I say “Taakulak k'iin" (“See ya later" in Mayan) to Poot Dzib and his ocellated turkeys and head back to the Rosewood, where Tavo the butler awaits with that bottle of tequila, plus some fresh lime juice and agave nectar for mixers.
Gracias, Tavo!
Certainly, Mr. Heller.
Tavo leaves me to my plunge pool, where I enjoy my drink to the sound of a rainbow-billed toucan flapping around the lagoon. Just one cocktail, however, as I'm hopping onto my complimentary beach cruiser (every guest gets one) to take a spin around the property, where geckos, iguanas, and even a tarantula skitter into the mangroves as I come rolling down the jungle path.
Appetite sufficiently worked up, I'm off to the Rosewood's La Ceiba Garden & Kitchen, where executive chef Juan Pablo Loza serves a communal dinner of Maya-inspired dishes with a contemporary touch. Seated at a long wooden table with 17 other guests, I ask the chef what he's learned from the local Maya villages, which he visits often to pick up cooking techniques.
“My top lesson from the Maya is less about food than it is about perspective," he says, before recounting a delicious meal he had with one family. “The woman who cooked for me had referred to her neighbor as poor. I found it an odd comment, because the assumption in a Maya village is that nobody is exactly rich. 'Why do you say your neighbor is poor?' I asked. She said because she has no family and no garden. If you don't have a garden, you can't get food from it, and if you don't have a family you have nobody to share it with. For them, having a family and a connection to nature is what it means to be rich."
“And now you have this beautiful garden," I say, pointing to his planters of lemongrass.
“And a family, too," he replies. “Including a daughter named Maya."
And then we feast. There's grilled octopus with black recado and burnt lime vinaigrette, zarandeado-style lobster, roasted plantains, and a k'úum salad of squash, arugula, orange, oregano, and ocosingo cheese, finished off with fresh fruits in guava honey and lemongrass.
Tavo, I'm stuffed! Turn out the light and have a pot of coffee waiting for me in the morning, please.
Certainly, Mr. Heller.
Day 2
Scaling ruins, swimming in cenotes, and taking a turn on the karaoke mic
Gran Cenote
In the small village square outside Tulum National Park, the Voladores de Papantla are performing their ancient fertility ritual, or rain ceremony—named an “intangible cultural heritage" by UNESCO. Five men in traditional bright red pants and flowing white blouses with multicolored adornments sit atop a 90-foot pole. The man in the center taps an adagio beat on a simple drum and blows a gentle bird-like tune on a wooden flute while the other four men tie ropes around their waists. When the musician ups the tempo to allegretto, the other two men fall backward, like scuba divers dropping into water, and slowly descend upside down in a merry-go-round fashion, the spinning top ceding rope like a reel feeding line to a fish. It's absolutely beautiful.
On a path cutting through the mangroves and almond trees on the way to the park entrance, a guide shares a mnemonic device that will be helpful should I run into any venomous coral snakes: “red on yellow, kill a fellow; red on black, friend of Jack." I assume I'm a Jack.
"The water is high and crisp as we float past stalagmites growing ever so slowly out of the cave floor."
Thankfully, there are no snakes to be seen in the ancient Maya city of Tulum, an open patch of manicured lawns and stone ruins protected by walls to the north, west, and south, and an ocean reef to the east. Or so it was protected until around 1500, when the Spanish came ashore. This beachside community, established circa 1200, was populated by a few hundred of Tulum's elite (and the sea turtles that still come ashore to lay their eggs), with thousands of people living outside the walls. It wasn't until the 20th century, when archaeologists began studying the region's various Maya sites, that we began to understand how advanced their civilization was—especially in the area of astronomy. As I walk the city's white gravel paths, I can imagine a well-heeled society covered in jade and obsidian jewelry enjoying the same ocean breeze and studying the same night sky. One glance at the view, and it's clear the Maya knew something about real estate. This plot right here, with a lighthouse perched on the cliff, would go for a boatload of jade and obsidian.
Maya ruins at Tulum
After fortifying my stomach with a few al pastor tacos (don't forget the guacamole) at Tropi Tacos in Tulum Pueblo, I meet back up with Diego Viadero for a drive out to Sistema Sac Actun (White Cave System), one of the world's largest underground cave systems, a 164-mile maze of freshwater flowing through subterranean limestone. This afternoon, we're exploring just one mile of the system. The rain-conjuring Voladores de Papantla must be in top form lately; the water is high and crisp as we float past stalagmites growing ever so slowly (less than 10 centimeters every 1,000 years) out of the cave floor and reaching up toward stalactites hanging like icicles from the cave ceiling. It's like the setting of a science fiction movie, so otherworldly I try to prolong my stay by floating as slowly as the calcium deposits are forming in front of me.
“Be careful," says Viadero, as I get a little too close to a stalagmite that's been a million years in the making. “You wouldn't want to break it."
IK Lab
“I certainly wouldn't want that on my conscience," I agree.
After emerging from a cenote (a natural sinkhole where groundwater is exposed to the sky), I offer an adiós to Viadero and make my way to Tulum's Route 15—the narrow street that cuts through the jungle, parallel to the shore, and is lined with trendy restaurants, bars, and “eco-chic" (their word, not mine) hotels. Twenty years ago, this strip wasn't much, but now there's not a speck of beachfront that isn't occupied by an Instagram-ready boutique property. (The number of rope swings is astounding.) In recent years, Route 15 has played host to Demi Moore, Leonardo DiCaprio, Naomi Watts, Gina Rodriguez, Reese Witherspoon, and, after today, me. I'm staying at Sanará, a stylish wellness hotel that attracts young and hip sunworshippers from around the world who like partying and yoga in equal measure.
A shop on Tulum's Route 15
I check into my beachside room (furnished with my very own yoga mat and dream catcher), flop down on the bed, and open up the “Wellness Menu." On offer are a Pudzyah Mayan Healing that “transforms pain to love at the cellular level … It harmonizes your DNA by applying fractal geometry energy"; a Multivibrational Massage and Chakra Balancing; and a Solar Plexus Healer. I opt for the complimentary “Sound Bath" of light yoga and didgeridoo before balancing out my chakras with a burger, a beer, and some fresh ceviche at Clan Destino.
This laid-back spot is all about the ambience: a wooden deck with chandeliers hanging from the jungle canopy and a cenote smack dab in the middle of the club, should you need refreshing after one too many cervezas. The bar offers a free shot of mezcal for those who take a turn on the karaoke mic (“Suspicious Minds" for me, thank you very much); after accepting my applause and draining my shot, I turn the glass over on the bar and take the plunge.
Day 3
Floating down a canal, swimming in the Caribbean, and eating gelato on the beach
A cabana at Mía
At The Real Coconut, Sanará's beachside restaurant, I dig into a light breakfast of coffee and avocado toast (piled high like Nohoch Mul with a squirt of lime and a sprinkling of red pepper flakes). It's a deliciously healthy start to a morning that's going to include traipsing through the Sian Ka'an biosphere reserve and swimming in Laguna Chunyaxché.
At Sian Ka'an—a protected area of tropical forest, marshes, and lagoons about a 40-minute drive from my hotel—I follow my guide, Joaquin Balam of Community Tours, down the narrow boardwalk of Sendero Muyil, which cuts through a forest of zapote and ficus trees. I'm told there are jaguars, pumas, and howler monkeys about, as well as some 330 species of birds.
“Are those the howler monkeys?" I ask of a muted rumbling in the distance.
"We're floating in the current like a couple of astronauts in space, limbs slowly twirling."
“Oh no," says Balam. “When you hear them, you'll know it."
The closest we get to this array of wildlife, however, is some jaguar claw marks on a ficus tree. By the looks of the marks, I'm happy that we're strolling alone.
Baby back ribs at Mía Restaurant & Beach Club
At the end of the path, we reach the sandy shoreline of Laguna Chunyaxché, a bright body of water that reflects both the green wetlands and the blue sky above. We cross the lagoon by boat, to a shoreline of mangroves and seagrass, and step onto a dock at the entrance to a canal.
“Take your life vest off and wear it like this," Balam says, putting his legs through the arm holes of the vest, as if it were a diaper.
“If you say so."
Balam jumps into the canal and I follow, and I immediately understand the Baby Huey getup. We're floating in the current like a couple of astronauts in space, limbs slowly twirling as our seemingly weightless bodies travel down the canal. Cue the opening horns of the score to 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Back on Route 15, I stop in at Mía Restaurant & Beach Club for baby back ribs rubbed with chili and tamarind, washed down with a glass of Château Gloria St Julien Bordeaux from the restaurant's wine cave—the biggest collection of fine wines in Tulum. It's as decadent as the beachgoers lazing in the sun not far from my table.
Head still swimming in that lovely Château Gloria, I decide to take the rest of my body for a little dip. The Caribbean is bathwater warm and crystal clear—in other words, perfect. I walk out for what seems like half a mile, and the water still only comes up to my waist.
Gelato at Origami
Refreshed and sun-dried, I'm ready to trade in the historical and ecological sights of the last few days for the fashion runway of Route 15. The women wear bikinis and sarongs, the men wear linen shorts and loafers, and everybody wears designer shades, brimmed hats made of straw, and suntans of golden bronze. Origami, a beautifully designed gelato shop, is the perfect place to have a seat and watch the catwalk. I have a Ferrero Rocher and crunch on the hazelnuts drenched in icy chocolate and cream while the fashion models play street chicken with Vespas and the delivery trucks distributing tanks of fresh water to the five-star eateries
If Route 15 is for the well-heeled, then Calle Centauro Sur is for the flip-flop set. It's a strip in the center of town, about two miles inland from the beach, where the more casual tourists and locals congregate. Call it the Brooklyn to Route 15's Manhattan. At Batey—a hip, open-air bar and music venue decorated with paintings of Miles Davis and the Beatles—I take a sidewalk seat and listen to a Mexican Elvis impersonator singing Simple Minds' “Don't You (Forget About Me)." As I sip on a Don Julio Reposado, a patchouli-scented parade of 5 o'clock shadows and hot pink hair dye ambles by.
“Are you going dancing tonight?" a young man in a tank top, cut-off jean shorts, and tattered Chuck Taylors asks a friend sitting at the table next to me.
The bar at Mur Mur, in Tulum
“Are you?"
“I'm dressed and ready to go."
Back on Route 15, the revelers are stepping out as if their outfits are going to be scrutinized by bouncers holding clipboards and manning red velvet ropes. Thankfully, no such velvet ropes exist as I enter Rosa Negra for an indulgent meal of burrata, besugo sashimi with black salt and citrus, soft-shell crab tacos, and Pescadores—a fine craft beer made right here in Riviera Maya.
The food is as comely as the patrons, who are bopping their well-coiffed heads to a drum-and-bass DJ. But before I have a chance to pass judgment on an ambience that may appear a touch too buttoned-up, a live conga player steps in front of the DJ.
A rat-a-tat tat, bop ba-da ba-bop, dup du-duh dup du-dup!
The congas add a touch of that Carmen spirit—their organic vibrations reminding me that despite all the Manolo Blahniks and slinky black dresses, my T-shirt and flip-flops are welcome at the party. I shimmy my shoulders, take a swig of my Pescadores, and nod to the beat as I dig into my tacos.
A rat-a-tat tat, ba dop ba-da ba-dop, dup du-buh dup bu-dup!
Security and technology in the air
Podcast produced in partnership with CSIS
This week on the Smart Women, Smart Power Podcast, Beverly Kirk is joined by Linda Jojo, Executive Vice President for Technology and Chief Digital Officer at United Airlines for a conversation on the transformation of technology in the airline industry and more on security in the digital age.
The best National Parks to visit all year round
Yosemite, California
Fall and winter visitors to Yosemite National Park are treated to autumn leaves in the fall, snow-capped granite landmarks in the winter and replenished waterfalls in the spring. Tent camping can be cold, but hotel rooms in and around Yosemite Valley are widely available and Yosemite's historic lodge, The Majestic Yosemite Hotel (formerly Ahwahnee), hosts two big events in November and December: the Grand Grape Celebration and the Bracebridge Dinner (a recreation of Christmas in Olde England). Airport: Fresno Yosemite International Airport.
Everglades, Florida
Many summer vacationers are among the one million annual visitors to Everglades National Park, but the best time to come is in late-autumn or winter. Southern Florida's temperatures are milder, it's far less humid, hurricane season is over and summer flooding of the prairies has receded — letting you see more fish and reptiles. You can also see more birds in the winter via airboat tours through the Everglades, America's largest tropical wilderness. Not to mention this “river of grass" is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site, International Biosphere Reserve and a wetland of International Importance. Airport: Miami International Airport.
Mammoth Cave, Kentucky
Another world lives beneath Kentucky in the world's largest network of caves known as Mammoth Cave National Park. You will walk beneath massive crystallized formations inside the caverns and may spot one of the eight species of bats that thrive in this environment. The caves are about 54 degrees inside year-round, as if regulated by a thermostat, so they are protected from the hot humid summers and freezing winter nights above them, making them a perfect place to visit any time of the year. Visitors to this southern Kentucky park will also benefit from this climatic predictability while taking any of eight cave tours. While cave tours should be at the top of your list of things to do here, this park also offers hiking, camping, horseback riding, kayaking and more. Airport: Louisville International Airport.
Haleakala, Hawaii
Your visit to Haleakala National Park may include a number of experiences, but witnessing the sunrise or sunsets are a must. Many visitors wake up early to drive to the Summit Visitor Center to view one of the best sunrises. But make sure to plan accordingly because the National Park Service now requires a reservation for vehicles to view the sunrise from the Summit District. Other activities on the 10,023-foot mountain include hiking one of the nine trails, guided horseback rides and bike rentals post-hike to coast most of the way down. An added bonus: Humpback whale watching season stretches from December to March in Maui. Airport: Kahului Airport.
Saguaro, Arizona
Saguaro, a type of giant cacti, serve many functions for desert wildlife — but they don't cast much shade. That's why winter is the best time to hike among them where they populate hillsides by the thousands in Saguaro National Park. The park is split in two, straddling the western and eastern boundaries of Tucson, with 165 miles of hiking trails. The Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, a museum, zoo and botanical garden, is a must-see attraction on the edge of Saguaro NP West. Airport: Tucson International Airport.
Joshua Tree, California
The namesake of Joshua Tree National Park is an odd-looking tree that fits in well with the weirdly wonderful rock formations adored by photographers in this high desert park. Located between Palm Springs and the L.A. area, the park encompasses two major deserts and a mountain range, offering a profoundly contrasting appearance due to the two varying ecosystems. This park can be explored by car or by foot on one of the 27 hiking trails. A bonus to visiting in the winter is the desert wildflower blooms between February and April. Airport: Palm Springs International Airport.
Biscayne, Florida
Famous lighthouse at Key Biscayne, Miami
Most of Biscayne National Park is on water, not land, so the best way to see its coral reefs (among the world's largest) and the abundance of marine life (highlighted by manatees and sea turtles) is by renting a boat or taking a boat tour. Several marinas are found at the park's edges where you can do just that, as well as rent snorkeling or diving equipment for a closer look underwater, where you'll discover diverse and colorful aquatic life and multiple shipwrecks. Kayaking and fishing in Miami-Dade County are also popular. Airport: Miami International Airport.
If you go
United Airlines flies to airports within a two-hour drive of all of these national parks. MileagePlus® Rewards can help pay for your accommodations. Go to united.com or use the United app to plan your national park getaway.
