Paradise lost: How a Mexican party resort is facing environmental disaster

With its Caribbean beaches, Mayan ruins and lush jungles, the Mexican resort of Tulum is lauded as an eco-paradise attracting flamboyant hipsters and Burning Man types who like to party year-round on the Goa-Bali-Ibiza circuit.  

The main beach road is lined with boutiques with kaftans costing £500 and luxurious bamboo-style hotels. Since the border with the US is still open, Tulum is also enticing a new type of visitor – people who are rebelling against the coronavirus restrictions.

“I came to Mexico to get away from the divisive political situation back in the States,” admits 38-year-old Matt Miles, a construction manager from Georgia. “Here it doesn’t feel like Covid really exists – everything is open and the vibe is buzzing. Me and my buddy went out midweek and ended up at an underground reggaeton club. Around 200 of us were dancing in this sweaty joint. We left around 4am and it was still going strong.”

Matt is staying in a pricey Airbnb in downtown Tulum, a neighbourhood awash with taco eateries, mezcal bars and lavanderias (laundry services).

Scenesters prefer to check in to the more extravagant hotel zone (paying up to £1,000 per night), lounging on beach beds during the day and getting high at secret jungle parties by night. 

“The other night we got a table at Bagatelle – it’s just opened and DJ Diplo was playing,” says Nick, not his real name, a property developer from LA.  

“This Friday I’ll be at another jungle party and I’ll probably drop a couple of grand but with all the blow, hot girls and international DJs playing, it’s worth it.

“A shuttle bus takes us to a location and the only restriction is that we can’t take photos with our phones. Things can get pretty wild and we don’t want to get busted by the police.”

Heather Froeming, a Californian who has lived in Tulum since 2005 and started No Mas Plastik (No More Plastic) after noticing how much plastic was washing up on the shoreline, says that many of the secret location parties “happen in the jungle around the cenotes”, the world’s largest underground river system and this unique network of caves, providing the only source of fresh water in the Yucatan peninsula.

“This town used to have such a chilled vibe. Travellers came here to escape the crowds and the noise. You wouldn’t see rotting seaweed on the beaches in January or hordes of people attending jungle parties. Tulum now attracts visitors with mass consumerist mindsets. And very often a sense of entitlement.”

Meanwhile, locals adhere to the social distancing rules, walking around the pueblo wearing face masks. And along the main drag that cuts through Tulum town centre, a megaphone blasts out encouraging tourists to wear masks to keep safe.

“The party crowd don’t tend to follow rules nor do they care about the sheer amount of trash they generate either,” says Heather.

“On top of that, greedy developers are building condos on top of the mangroves, ruining our natural filter system. Tulum is turning into an eco-nightmare. It’s so tragic.”

“One of the most special things about Tulum is its cenotes,” says Philipp Meyer, dive instructor and co-founder of Corales Tulum.  

“These cenotes eventually flow out into the sea and so everything is connected. Without a doubt parties at the cenotes aren’t good for the environment. The vibrations probably damage the fragile, ancient stalactites as well as disturb the wildlife and balance of our ecosystem.

“The cenotes are also considered sacred and the Mayans saw them as a gateway to the underworld. It would be an insult to their beliefs to hold big, loud parties there. Besides the noise pollution, Tulum doesn’t have the infrastructure to support the number of people here.

“Only about one third of the raw sewage from the hotels is treated in a plant. The rest leaks straight into the cenotes and the sea.  

“When I go diving, I see far less fish and the coral reef is dying. We did some official research and over 60 per cent of the hard corals are affected by disease. The reef is in a terrible state. Tulum is an ecological disaster.”

Philipp fears that if this situation is not reversed soon, Tulum’s coral reef, the second largest in the world, will be completely destroyed. Olmo Torres Talamante, a local biologist and director of Razonatura, a nonprofit organisation that supports sustainable development and conservation of natural resources in Mexico, agrees with this prognosis.  

“During the high season, Tulum produces an average of 220 tons of solid waste per day,” says Olmo “but the municipal government hasn’t created the necessary infrastructure to handle it. Also, the landfill is overflowing and on the verge of collapse”.

“Currently there is no holistic plan or system for rubbish collection,” explains Olmo. “This month, we have introduced two recycling stations in the town centre and by the end of 2021 we will have 10 more. It’s a positive step in the right direction but we need to do much more and quickly if we are to reverse the damage.”

“Tulum likes to market itself as an eco-tourist destination but that’s not true,” says Katri Mehtonen, a water and wastewater technology specialist from Moxworld, a Finnish company.

“Most of the hotels along the beach in Tulum are run from diesel generators. The frustrating thing is that clean energy solutions do exist but they are not being implemented. From what I hear, it’s the usual story of greed and corruption from local government.”

“So many people wind up here just looking for endless parties and leave without ever giving back to the community,” says Carrie Cox, a 33-year-old photographer from Utah. 

“We call them Tuluminatis – they float around in handmade panama hats and floaty robes pretending to look enlightened. Yet they’re not interested in doing beach clean-ups. I’ve never met so many some self-absorbed people. With my blonde hair and white privilege, I’m embarrassed and probably also part of the problem – that’s why I’m getting out of here to help a community dig up some farmland in a Mexican village.”

Some residents are taking encouraging measures to heal Tulum’s fractured ecosystem but will it be enough? At the end of last year, the Mexican president announced that an airport will open in Tulum in 2023.  

“This could spell the end for us,” says Heather Froeming. “If we want to preserve the magic of Tulum, we need to fix the infrastructure. Stop cutting down trees and halt building permits. We also need to encourage sustainable tourism, otherwise our small slice of utopia will end up like just another soulless destination.”