If Cancun is the grand dame of the Mexican holiday world, then Cozumel is the little sister. Separated from the mainland by a short stretch of sea, the island has escaped the overbearing blocks of hotels and seas of beach umbrellas that have turned Cancun into a concrete jungle, albeit an ocean-fringed one.
Lunch was from little shacks, where we ate with our fingers on metal chairs under faded sun umbrellas, from dishes of local shrimps fried in garlic or calamari drizzled with lemon and grilled to perfection
It’s not exactly a glimpse of the real Mexico; that disappeared a long time ago. But it has retained a more laid-back charm, making it the perfect base for us to explore the Yucatan peninsula, kick off our shoes and go diving.
We took the Ultramar ferry from Cancun (www.granpuerto.com.mx), although you can fly. Our accommodation at the Village Tan Kah was a little outside of the main drag of San Miguel, which gave it a sunnier, holiday vibe than the town centre hotels (Carr. Costera Sur tel: +52 987 872 6142, from €50 per room, per night).
Bleached wood and adobe rooms painted earthy shades of pink, yellow and blue were set in shady palm-filled gardens.
We were staying in the spacious and airy tree house, perched on wooden poles, the fan lazily swirling warm air through the open windows.
Hammocks strung under bougainvillea bushes laden with vivid cerise flowers beckoned us, but we resisted and headed straight to Roberta’s Eco Dive Shack to book our ocean adventure (owned by the same family as the Tan Kah, Calle 19 corner of Av 10 Bis, tel: +52 987 872 7903, www.bluebubble.com).
I had never dived before, but after an hour or so of introduction and a session in the harbour, Bob the instructor risked me in the deep blue ocean. It was the most incredible experience. I was entirely oblivious to the multifarious ways in which diving can go wrong (I was to learn this later during the PADI training). Bob simply took care of everything, even to the point of towing me along by the spare regulator. All I had to do was drift and marvel.
We were out on the paradise reef, which runs parallel to the shore. There were crabs and lobster glowering from under rocks. Spotted morays lurked, waiting to be fed (some of the divers bring bread although it isn’t recommended). The splendid toad fish did not put in an appearance, but the queen angelfish made up for it, wearing a crown of blue on her head.
The visibility was incredible (it can be over 100 metres), and drift dives can reach speeds of 1.5 knots, meaning you don’t need to use too much air with hard swimming. The fact that some of the diving seemed close to the cruise ship lanes was a little unnerving, but no one has been sucked into an engine so far.
Emboldened by this underwater odyssey, I booked a submarine tour (www.atlantissubmarines.travel). The brochure showed lots of smiling tourists gawping with delight as they sailed beneath the waves. And for the first five minutes, this was the case.
We entered through a hatch and a spiral staircase. The sub was narrow at the bottom, with huge plate glass windows broadening out to an egg shape for maximum visibility, and a row of seats ran down each side. Once the hatch was closed, we cruised off, just above the seabed.
Frankly, there wasn’t that much to see but it was interesting to look at the ocean topography, see some beleaguered coral heads and spot the odd fish darting past; we also sailed past a couple of modern wrecks.
Unfortunately, the gentle swaying of the sub rapidly brought on sea sickness. Worse, there was no horizon to look at, only metres of seabed gradually petering off into the gloom.
Combined with a mildly claustrophobic sensation of being locked in a tube beneath the waves from which there was no escape, this nausea rapidly became intense. The 40-minute trip was about 35 minutes too long for me. Let’s call it an experience; I learned that the life of a submariner was not for me.
Finding a shady hammock and ordering a silly drink served in a coconut with all the accoutrements was pretty much obligatory
And so we focused on terrestrial pursuits. Only the mainland side of Cozumel is heavily developed, meaning that the north and east of the island are still fantastically wild. This is not entirely because the authorities believe in the sanctity of nature; the beaches near the development zones offer the usual golden sand and calm waters.
On the east, the shoreline tends to be rocky with treacherous surf and fiendish undertows. We hired a jeep to explore, wandering round rock pools while the waves crashed tumultuously behind us.
Lunch was from little shacks, where we ate with our fingers on metal chairs under faded sun umbrellas, from dishes of local shrimps fried in garlic or calamari drizzled with lemon and grilled to perfection.
This Island of the Swallows used to be very important to the Mayans. It was a sacred fertility temple and women would try to go there at least once in their lives to worship Ixchel, the goddess of fertility. Archaeologists regularly find little dolls made by the women as offerings.
We visited one such temple at San Gervasio. The tumbled stones were surrounded by pressing green jungle and haunted by the whispers of past women, praying for children. Many of the other temples were destroyed by the Spanish.
Destruction of their temples was the least of the Mayans’ worries though. When Hernan Cortes came to the island he left a church and a deadly legacy: smallpox. The population of 40,000 was reduced to 300 in a matter of 50 years, and shortly afterwards abandoned completely.
Having contemplated the demise of the Mayans, we headed to the little neighbouring island of Isla Mujeres on another Ultramar ferry. Rather oddly, it’s possible to hire a golf cart here to tour around.
Feeling rather absurd, we carted from beach to beach at a top speed of about 10km/h. It turned out to be a recipe for total relaxation.
The isla doesn’t have all that much going on, so finding a shady hammock and ordering a silly drink served in a coconut with all the accoutrements (umbrella, cherry on a stick, slice of pineapple) was pretty much obligatory, along with a spot of leisurely snorkelling.
Development has been rampant in this part of Mexico, but Cozumel and Isla Mujeres are resisting.
We stayed for a few days of fun before launching into major sightseeing mode in the unmissable Mayan world of Chichen Itza and Tumbes on the mainland.
If you’re headed to the Yucatan and want to shake off Cancun’s Americanised version of Mexico, then I recommend escaping into the wilder parts of Cozumel’s countryside or diving beneath the Isla Mujeres’s glittering waters. Just give the submarine a wide berth.