Star canopy

After Chichen Itza, we had planned to continue our drive eastwards, spending a night in Valladolid. We had something of a last-minute change in plan, and decided to drive to the northern part of the Yucatan Peninsula - to a small place called Rio Lagartos. Less developed than the Eastern coast, this area was meant to be biodiverse and picturesque.

Night started closing in, and we realised that we had no accommodation booked so far. Pinning our hopes on a response on AirBnB, we drove into Rio Lagartos expecting a sleepy village, dark houses with no activity on the streets - this being a Sunday night.

What we saw instead was a village abuzz with activity, even at 10pm: the clip-clop of people riding their horses met loud latino tunes emanating from houses, where parties were still raging. The city market was alight with a funfair and stalls selling everything from street food to trinkets. Children shrieked on trampolines and rides, adults swayed to tunes blaring from boomboxes.

Incredible. This didn't solve our accommodation dilemma though, and the small hotels in Rio Lagartos were either locked down or sold out. We drove to the neighbouring village of San Felipe - an utterly cute fishermen's community - but had no more luck.

Having run of out options and energy for the day, there was only one thing to do. We drove to a strip of beach called Cancunito, tucked in a bend amid bushes and flora.

Spread out our towels and looked skywards.

The beach, being a wild one, had no light pollution or infrastructure, just soft white sand and crashing waves. The heavens above were a sight to behold. Millions of stars were painted onto the dark sky. The Milky Way twinkled above us in all her glory.

I was humbled, spellbound.

We huddled close, breathing in each other, as Kris hugged me hard. I couldn't have been more in love with him at this point, marvelling at the miracle that is two souls colliding in sheer randomness in this vast universe.

Mesmerised by the sky, full of love and gratitude, my mind drifted with the breeze rolling in from the sea a few metres away.

I'm not sure how we woke up.

A tinge of pink coloured the sky and the waves as the sun started to rise.

Waking up as we did on that deserted beach, facing the water, felt utterly surreal.

There was but one thing to do: jump into the water and get rid of the stickiness and sand. The sea was warm - it was barely 7 am - and fish leaped out of the water occasionally, with a couple of pelicans gliding above in the hope of catching them.

The sun, a pink orb, rose out of the sea and as we swam hues of gold, pink, purple, blue caught in the waves. The fresh air and scent of the sea permeated every inch of our beings, we splashed and laughed, incredulous at our adventures.

Sadly, a group of people trickled in, heralding the arrival of crowds. It was time to get going and find breakfast.

Curiosity got the better of us, though. After proving ourselves surprisingly adept at rinsing off the salt with a single bottle of water (needs must), we drove into the sleepy village of Las Coloradas. It became clear that we wouldn't be finding any breakfast here... but our hopes led us to the end of the village, and offroad into the biosphere of Rio Lagartos.

Where we encountered pink flamingos.

Chilling in vast pink lakes.

Driving further, we encountered a pod of pelicans and seagulls by a fishing boat in a secluded beach area, swooping and diving straight into the sparkling sea to catch fish which were clearly abundant there.