Puebla, Mexico is one of those cities where the color is not limited to one landmark. Walk through the historic center and it keeps changing — painted colonial streets, murals, market stalls, Talavera ceramics, old cafés, yellow courtyards and entire shops filled wall to wall with pottery. I expected Puebla to be mostly about churches and food, but what stayed with me was how visually dense the city felt. Even an ordinary walk through Centro Histórico kept turning into another photograph.

Take my mum to visit Cancun🥰🏝️

We had such a great time visiting Mexico City earlier this year. The city offers so much to do! And so much great food! Plus, prior to our visit, I wasn't aware that Mexico City has more museums than any other city in the world other than London. And all the Mesoamerican history - including the ruins of a pyramid right in the center of the city! Some of my favorite experiences were: exploring the Templo Mayor in the Zocalo, visiting the Archeological Museum and the Popular Art Museum, learning all about Mexican Muralism, taking a cooking class on a trajinera boat in Xochimilco, seeing Ballet Folklorico at Chapultepec Castle, taking a DIY day trip to Teotihuacan, riding the public cable car over Iztapalapa, and eating so much amazing food. You can read about these experiences in more detail (and see more photos) in this article I wrote about my very most favorite things to do during our time in Mexico City

One of my favorite recommendations for travelers visiting Uxmal from Mérida is simple: start early.

Arriving in the morning usually means cooler temperatures, fewer crowds and a much more comfortable visit to the archaeological site.

From Mérida, the drive to Uxmal is approximately 1 hour and 15 minutes, depending on traffic and your pickup location.

A good day can also include Choco-Story Museum, a regional lunch stop, or a cenote/hacienda visit on the way back to Mérida.

If you’re planning Uxmal and have questions about timing, transportation or how to organize the route, feel free to ask. Happy to share local advice.

📍 Mérida, Yucatán
🌐 meridaprivatetours.com

Another silver bracelet bought in Playa Del Carmen / Cancun / Mexico.

On my right wrist since 2009.

TL;DR, considering a trip to a resort by Acapulco, would be staying on resort property the entire time, wondering about safety. Also posting in r/askmexico

My husband and I are considering a trip to Banyan Tree Cabo Marquez in Acapulco. It is located here. We know the crime statistics and reputation of the area, and are aware of the U.S. government's travel warnings against travel to Guerrero.

Am I stupid to think we could travel there and stay on resort property the entire time and remain safe? The resort itself is very close to the airport, and we would not have to drive anywhere near the city center to get to and from the airport. I feel like there is very minimal risk involved, and we are experienced travelers, but we've never travelled anywhere that has a "do not travel" warning from the U.S. State Department. Would the drive to and from the airport be risky?

Any insights appreciated. We're considering this over other areas of Mexico because it is exactly the style of resort we love (private villa, pool, ocean views), at a price that is significantly cheaper than similar resorts elsewhere in Mexico.

Cenotes are much more than beautiful places to swim.
Beneath the surface, they support unique cave species, freshwater ecosystems, geological formations and even archaeological remains connected to thousands of years of Yucatán history.
I found the underground wildlife especially interesting — some species have adapted to complete darkness and exist only in these environments.
What surprised you most about cenotes?

I nearly ran out of fuel driving 60 km into the forest to reach Calakmul. Went back two years later: there's now a gas station at the gate, and almost nothing else has changed.

Calakmul was basically the reason I planned this whole road trip.

In October 2023 I drove roughly 3,000 km across southern Mexico, and this was the place I cared about most. It is deep in Campeche, inside the biosphere reserve near the Guatemalan border, and unlike most of the famous Maya sites in Mexico, you can still climb the major structures.

I've now been there three times.

The story below is from my first visit in 2023. I went back most recently in August 2025, so I'll add the update at the end.

The funny thing is that the problem I thought Calakmul had in 2023 has now been fixed.

It just wasn't the actual problem.

I ate two tacos at a roadside stand near the hotel that morning and drove west.

At the entrance you buy your ticket, and then the real drive starts: about 60 km through the forest before you reach the archaeological zone.

Calling it a road is fair.

Calling it a good road would be generous.

It's an old paved road running under almost continuous tree cover. A lot of it is straight, which makes you want to speed up, and then suddenly it curves and you remember that there are only two narrow lanes and potholes large enough to punish optimism.

For long stretches I saw almost nobody.

About twenty minutes in, I looked at the fuel gauge.

Two bars.

I'd been so excited about finally going to Calakmul that I had forgotten to fill the tank.

I sat there doing arithmetic while driving.

About 60 km in.

60 km back.

Then however far I had to go before finding a working gas station.

I figured I probably had around 150 km of range.

Technically fine.

Not comfortably fine.

So I turned off the AC.

Then I found a car ahead of me and just followed it.

No unnecessary acceleration. No hard braking. No passing. Every time the road curved I found myself thinking about how much fuel changing speed probably cost.

After a while I wasn't thinking about Calakmul at all.

I was thinking about the next 200 meters of asphalt.

By the time I finally reached the parking area, I was mostly relieved that the car was still moving.

Then I remembered:

Right.

Ancient Maya capital.

That's why I'm here.

I went straight for Structure 2.

People usually call it a pyramid, but standing on it, it feels more like an enormous palace built on top of an artificial mountain.

You climb the first long staircase to a broad platform.

There is another structure there.

Then you go around it, find another staircase, and climb again to the upper courtyard.

I sat down after the first section.

Partly because the view was incredible.

Mostly because I was tired.

The forest goes all the way to the horizon. Just green canopy and sky. There is almost nothing modern visible from up there.

I've climbed plenty of mountains, and it does not feel the same.

On a mountain, however dramatic it is, you know nobody decided it should exist.

Here, somebody decided.

And then a lot of other people had to make that decision real.

That thought hit me harder than the usual statistics about how many structures Calakmul has or how many square kilometers it covered.

It had taken me about eleven minutes to climb that staircase carrying a daypack and two liters of water.

Every stone under me had come up too.

Probably not by somebody having a pleasant morning.

You look at one of these buildings from the plaza and think: impressive.

You sit on top of it and start thinking: expensive.

Somebody quarried this.

Somebody moved it.

Somebody fed the people moving it.

Somebody had to grow that food.

Somebody had to manage the water.

And then all of that had to keep working year after year while the building went up.

I had gone to Calakmul to see a Maya city.

Sitting on top of Structure 2, I started thinking about project management.

This happens to me a lot.

The part I really didn't understand before going is how free the site still feels.

At Chichén Itzá, you can't climb.

At Tulum, you can't climb.

At many major archaeological sites, understandably, you're kept away from the structures.

At Calakmul I was sitting on top of one.

And when I went back in August 2025, I could still do it.

I think the reason is basically the road.

The places that are easiest to reach get huge visitor numbers.

Huge visitor numbers eventually mean barriers, controlled paths, closures and preservation rules.

Calakmul is still 60 km down a bad forest road from a small town.

That inconvenience is probably one of the reasons you can still climb it.

Which creates a strange relationship:

The harder a place is to reach, the more freedom you sometimes have when you finally get there.

I didn't really appreciate that until later in the trip.

Four days after Calakmul I went to Palenque.

Palenque is beautiful and much easier to visit.

I enjoyed Calakmul much more.

If I were doing the route again, I'd still put Calakmul first.

Structure 1 is even higher.

On the way up I ran into an older American couple I had already seen at Structure 2.

At a normal tourist attraction, seeing the same people twice means nothing.

At Calakmul it starts to feel like you've joined the same expedition.

We started talking on the stairs.

They were retired and from the Pacific Northwest. They had traveled all over the place together.

They asked where I was from.

China.

Then they asked what group I was with.

No group.

I'm driving.

Where?

Across Mexico.

Alone?

Yes.

There was a short pause.

He asked how long the trip was, did some calculation in his head, and looked slightly concerned about my life choices.

I told them I spent a lot of time traveling.

He laughed.

"You're young. You should be working."

I had absolutely no answer to this.

A few minutes later all three of us were climbing an ancient Maya pyramid in the middle of a jungle on a weekday, so I decided nobody had won the argument.

At the top, Structure 2 rises out of the forest in the distance, but viewed from behind it almost disappears into the canopy.

There were howler monkeys moving around the trees below us.

Black fur, black faces, completely indifferent to everybody.

And somewhere in the trees near the plaza there was this huge wind instrument making a low roaring sound whenever the wind moved through it.

A week earlier at Chichén Itzá I had bought a tiny carved version from a vendor for about a dollar because it made a ridiculous jaguar-like roar.

I had treated it as a souvenir.

Standing on Structure 1 listening to the full-sized sound carry across the plaza, I realized I had apparently bought a miniature version of an actual instrument and never bothered asking what it was.

Another excellent piece of research on my part.

I stayed inside for about three hours.

That was moving fairly quickly.

Calakmul is huge in a way that's difficult to explain with numbers. You walk from one major group to another, climb something, come back down, cross another piece of forest, find another plaza, another set of stelae, another building.

Eventually I worked my way back toward the parking lot.

It was around 3 pm.

Then I opened the car door.

Mexican tropical forest.

October.

Three in the afternoon.

Car sitting in the sun.

I remembered the fuel gauge.

The AC stayed off.

So now I had 60 km of forest road in reverse, windows down, hot air coming in, and me checking the gauge far more often than necessary as though staring at it could create gasoline.

Eventually the low-fuel light came on.

That was not encouraging.

Then, after hours with basically no signal, my phone suddenly connected.

Nearest gas station:

under 10 km.

There are much more dramatic travel stories than this.

But seeing that number was one of the most satisfying moments of the entire drive.

I made it.

Filled the tank.

Problem solved.

Or so I thought.

By August 2025, something had changed.

There was now a gas station at the Conhuas junction, right where you turn off the highway toward Calakmul.

I filled up there.

Which was funny, because the exact problem that had stressed me out in 2023 had now been solved at the entrance.

Great.

Then I started driving.

Same road.

Same potholes.

Same blind curves.

Same long green tunnel.

And when I reached Calakmul:

still almost nobody there.

Still climbable.

I had assumed back in 2023 that once infrastructure started appearing, Calakmul would gradually become another heavily visited site.

First fuel.

Then road improvements.

Then hotels.

Then buses.

Then crowds.

Two years later, at least from what I saw, that had not happened.

And I think I misunderstood the problem.

Fuel was never what made Calakmul difficult to visit.

I almost ran out because I forgot to buy fuel.

That was my problem.

The real barrier is the 60 km.

A pump at the beginning of that road doesn't make the road shorter.

And apparently 60 km of bad pavement through a biosphere reserve is a pretty effective filter.

So Calakmul in 2025 still felt remarkably similar to Calakmul in 2023.

You drive into the forest.

The road gets annoying.

You wonder how much farther it is.

Then eventually you arrive at one of the most important Maya capitals ever built, walk inside, and discover there are very few people there.

And then they let you climb it.

I'm sure this will change someday.

I thought it would happen faster.

For now, the thing protecting Calakmul isn't that nobody knows about it.

It's that knowing about a place and being willing to drive the last 60 km are two different things.

And apparently that is still enough.