It was meant to be an adventure but became a lesson: Sometimes luxury is a necessity.
We had no inkling that our AirBnB on the beach at Chelem on the Gulf of Mexico just north of Mérida, was a risky choice. We’d been several times to nearby Progreso, an upscale beach community where our host was an attentive young entrepreneur and our neighbors were a former governor of Yucatan state and the Marlboro King of Mexico. But this rental, charming in photos, turned out to be six inches from the local equivalent of a party-all-night share house, and our latest hosts, dark empaths, superficially charming initially, but then deeply baleful. Two nights in, after downloading Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music and firing up the trash-can-sized WiFi party speaker that we should have seen as a sign, I thought, Get me outta here and searched nearby hacienda hotels.
Inside the Hacienda Xcanatun.
Hacienda Xcanatun is a four-acre oasis hidden in the scruffy outskirts of Mérida, the capital of Yucatan, an arts center and foodie heaven where Mayan, Colonial, and expat gringo influences are knit into a multi-cultural crazy quilt. Once a sisal plantation in the country, the hotel, which now styles itself an urban resort, let us decompress from our days in hell at the beach and offered easy access to Mérida’s many charms. But as it turned out, the Banyan Group’s first Angsana Heritage property was so all-enveloping, we only left the grounds twice for dinners in town.
Our suite, one of 36 modern rooms scattered across the grounds (there are also 18 suites in the original, historic buildings), was huge. Everything from the exquisitely comfortable bed and the lavish bathroom to the on-site spa and the hotel’s mustard, terracotta, and wood palette was designed to soothe the savaged soul. When not lolling about or walking the well-tended grounds, I swam twice a day in the Olympic-sized pool surrounded by Bali beds.
A bedroom at the hotel.
Lol-Ha, a poolside lunch pavilion, has an eclectic menu ranging from ceviches and salads, to burgers and pizzas and a divine blackened tuna tostada. Casa Piedra, where we had breakfast and several dinners on the garden view patio, has traditional décor, but chef Ernesto Flores personally served us an updated version of the classic Yucatecan dish, cochinita pibil, one of the best I’ve ever tasted. It took a friend’s insistence to pry us away for dinners in town at Oliva Enoteca, an excellent Italian spot, and Anima, an open-air grill, both on calle 47, a dining mecca with dozens of restaurants.
A coatimundi, an animal native to central America that can be spotted at the hotel.
Mostly, the other visitors at the hacienda were polished, quiet and easy on the eyes. But my favorites were permanent residents, even more adorable and considerably more frolicsome. Several families of coatimundis — adorable mammals native to central America that resemble the children of squirrels and raccoons with long snouts and small, shell-like ears — live on the grounds, where employees feed them treats from birth to ensure their friendliness. Watching them, I thought of a more tuneful Lou Reed track: “It’s such a perfect day/I’m glad I spent it with you.”
