I had my hesitations. Would I feel lonely going on my own? Would I get bored staying at the resort for five days? Would the boat ride to the remote property be a thrill or a trial for my delicate maritime sensibilities? I decided to jump in and embrace the unknown. Besides, how trying could a week at a yoga retreat in Mexico really prove to be?
Turns out, the answer is not at all.
Xinalani organized an airport transfer for me that involved a taxi driver picking me up and taking me to the port, where he'd pass me off to the Xinalani captain, Guillermo, who would take me by panga (or medium-sized fishing boat) to the resort.
The taxi driver asks if he can offer me something to drink, like a beer or water. Wow, I think, what a notch above Uber! When I take him up on the water option, he pulls to the side of the road, leaves me in the car with the engine running ("You be safe here"), and runs into a mini-mart to purchase me a bottle of water. So this is where I get kidnapped, I think, my mother's seemingly irrational warnings flooding to mind.
Having safely arrived at the port, cool water bottle in hand, I tip my driver as he passes me off to the three men who make the next part of the journey happen. From what I could tell, one of them, above, has the job title of "rope holder." He spends the entire 40 minute journey in precisely that position, and only strays at the beginning and end of the journey, when he helps me and my luggage in and out of the panga.
The waters were choppy that day, and I probably would've chipped a tooth had I tried to take a sip from my gifted my bottle. With very little idea of where we were headed, and having bestowed 99% trust in Guillermo (I figured capsizing was always a viable option), we finally came upon our destination.
View of Xinalani from the boat-
you can see how it was hacked right into the jungle mountain
Rope Holder helps me out of the boat. There's no dock-you just jump ankle-deep into the shallow water, which seems to me the best welcome to a place like this. I check in and am led up the 150+ steps to the Big Palapa, my shared room for the week. I get lucky with the bed right next to the "jungle wall." In fact, there are very few structures on the property with four completely enclosed walls.
The whole palapa
I quickly jump into the daily rhythms of Xinalani, which completely revolve around two things: 1) yoga, and 2) food.
What pre-breakfast looks like
From the meditation cabin at my first yoga class
Chilaquiles, one of my absolute favorites
If I were to add a #3, it would be stairs.
There are a whole lot of stairs.
Huge Mexican feast Friday night,
and everyone wears white!
Small world-a guy I overlapped with in the Big Palapa my first night,
Thomas, works with Shawn's brother at a hotel in San Diego!
Our Cuban salsa teacher Friday night
Check out his "Keep moving, very sexy" chant
Mosquito net or princess tent?
I seriously adored my little cocoon.
The property itself operates on brute leg and glute strength. There were at least 200 steps from the beach to the highest yoga studio, and on average I climbed approximately 45-50 flights per day.
About 1/3 of the way up, and one of my favorite postage stamp views
The dining room
The bar
The pool
Xinalani is very proud to be eco-friendly, and reminds guests that if we encounter an unwanted critter or bug, that we should pay mind to who is in whose space. I saw lots of cool wildlife there, including iguanas (a huge lizard fell out of a tree right next to me as soon as I arrived), many beautiful birds, and coati (which are similar to raccoons but less offensive somehow). I couldn't get over the name of the local fowl (similar to turkeys but more graceful), called chacalaca.
The week felt very au naturale, as we aren't allowed to use high intensity electric devices, i.e. hair dryers. This was such a great freedom! I pretty much ditched the makeup while I was at it.
Note: this is not a chacalaca.
Yoga takes place twice a day, with a more active practice in the morning and a hatha- or yin-focused practice in the afternoon. For those of us in the solo group (that oxymoron, "solo group," so perfectly captures the balance of introspection and sociality at Xinalani), our teachers would rotate throughout the week between three local teachers.
I have never in my life done yoga two times in one day, and at Xinalani I was doing it for a whole week. At home, a yoga class is usually rush rush rush busy dirty streets enter studio wee bit stuffy check in roll out mat maybe smile at someone but certainly don't talk to them sit down deep breaths tune out real life channel your inner zen chaturanga hustle for your workout shavasana the moment we've all been waiting for wipe down your mat role it up feeling so good yoga is the best wham back on city streets the zen is gone.
Not at Xinalani.
Again, this is a place without walls. You walk quietly through the jungle, the birds singing, the palms rustling in the breeze. Fresh air encircles you as you arrive at the open-air studio and breathe in the ocean views. Everything feels fresh. Feels free. Feels calm. The temperature is at that perfect point where you could just as comfortably wear a tank as a sweatshirt. And as you chit chat with your new Xinalani family around you, you settle in to your mat and realize you have no where else to be. That you can fully let go and dedicate your full self to your practice. Everything else melts away and you feel a profound sense of both energy and peace.
Xinalani taught me a lot about the intention and the breath and the patience of yoga. I loved practicing with local teachers. We enjoyed new phrases like "four points" to describe table top pose. A friend noted that one teacher pronounced "exhale" as a drawn-out "excel" and asked me if my thoughts turned to Microsoft spreadsheets. None of them was afraid to allow silence to fill the space.
I reached (literally) places in poses and found space in my body that I hadn't before. There were many personal accomplishments throughout the week, but more importantly there were lasting themes that I will carry with me as I continue and deepen my yoga practice.
With Gerry, perhaps my favorite yoga teacher there
If you haven't guessed already, I don't plan on this being my last trip to Xinalani. I'm a complete yoga retreat convert and hope to make this type of travel an annual event!
View from the jungle yoga studio
When I wasn't at yoga or one of four daily meals, I...did whatever the hell I wanted. The great thing about being solo? You don't have to answer to anybody. No joint deliberations on what to do, no compromising, no "I'll wait for you" or "I'll meet you there." I went and did whatever whim came to mind, without ever having to voice it as a decision. Plus, I had a lot of quiet, introspective time to just observe and enjoy.
This isn't to say that I've found traveling with others to be tedious. Not at all. But there is something about being on your own that lends an utter sense of freedom. Of course, I thought all the time of loved ones who would've adored this bird or that view or Monday's juice of the day. While I'm learning to enjoy the pleasures of solo travel, I will inevitably also long to share pieces of those trips with others. At least this blog can serve as a form of shared experience.
"My" special cove
My down time was generally filled with the following options:
- Reading in alternating locations (such as bed/cocoon, hammock, lounge chair, beach, bar)
- Walking the beach and sitting on the rocks in "my" special cove
- The spa
Beach bar...
Lounge chairs...
My cocoon...
You get it.
And one day I even left the property! They offer a guide-led waterfall hike: billed at just two hours, I felt I could ditch my do-nothing vow and rise to the exertion.
Daniel, our "company" who works at Xinalani
and lives in Quimixto, the 500-person town next door
Local bridges
Daniel is extremely dear, and able to speak to the local school, the trees, everything. As we walked through the small, economically meager town, we learned Quixmoto has laws in place that do not allow any outsiders to buy property. All land must be inherited by blood. Daniel's consciousness and pride in his hometown and way of life is very sweet. We particularly enjoyed what he would refer to as "roads"-often super-narrow mud paths carved out of a hill, barely wide enough for a horse.
We swam in the (very chilly!) waterfall pool, and some brave souls even followed Daniel's lead and climbed to the short slide smoothed out of rock at the waterfall's edge.
What says tropical paradise more than this?!
Local boys trying to make a buck showing off their lizard
The rest of the time, I stayed at Xinalani. One of my favorite activities was visiting the spa, where I got two massages over my week there. The spa sprang as if from a dream. Built right over the sand, the windows opened to the sounds of rushing waves.
Perhaps the most impactful experience I had all week was my emotional therapy message with Angel (if this is his given name, his mother is incredibly prophetic).
The spa is literally built on the beach
He starts by serenely preparing me that the massage will be intense and we'll work through my emotional and physical blockages. He urges me to surrender to it. I remind myself to be open-minded, and get on the table.
He would so easily transition from the lightest touch to intense pressure. Gratitude effuses from this man; his whispers of "thank you thank you thank you" covering me like a second sheet. He would constantly encourage, telling me "good job" and that my work and breathing are "beautiful."
As promised, it is intense, with focus put on areas I'd never experienced in a massage, including my breast bone (sore for three days afterward), my eyebrows, and my jaw. He gets knots out of places I didn't know knots could exist, like around my shins.
Periodically, as he goes through the coordinating seven chakras, he would suggest I think of fears, guilts, or wishes for the future. Had I ever had my chakras cleared? Not knowingly. But let me tell you-by the time he's done and whispers his final words of gratitude, I lay in the most serene, satisfied shavasana of my life, not ever wanting to move again.
Finally, I pull myself up, gather my belongings, and meet him in reception. He reiterates how well I had done. I thank him for the incredible, cleansing experience he had given me. As he continues to say nice things in his calm, melodic voice, tears spring to my eyes. I feel suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude and release. Seeing this, he comes around to hug me, and that's it, I am practically sobbing. I leave him and made my way back up to my room, allowing myself to revel in a good cry as I stroll through my now well-known piece of jungle.
What really surprised me was the next day, when I ran into Angel again. As we chatted, just being in his presence brought back all the emotion of the day before, and tears welled up in my eyes again! I giggled at myself, and could not deny the effect of this magical man.
Of course, I could have as much solo time as my heart desired, but also everyone was super friendly. With only 50-60 people on the property over a week, you start to see familiar faces and find common ground. I got to know the other handful of people in my solo group (as we had all the same yoga classes), and really hit it off with a Canadian couple, Jody and Jacquie, who love to travel as much as I do. Of course, I was in the Big Palapa, so I had roommates that I got to chat with, helping me get to know people from the other groups. Also, the yoga group from Atlanta was very small, so I met lots of great people from there as well!
With Jody and Jacquie, at one of our third-wheel meals
Happy Hour was a thing
Sunset on my last night
Live music after dinner with J&J and the Atlanta group
Everyday I'd wake up thinking, another day in paradise. And yet, I wasn't so terribly sad to leave. I felt satisfied and lucky to have had the time I did. I was even given a spectacular parting gift: seeing a huge humpback whale do two full-body jumps on my panga-ride back to the main port!
Xinalani, with its friendly staff, magical setting, and peaceful rhythms is somewhere I truly can't wait to return.
