Progresso Mexico 2017
Tommy in the cenote - no filter, just cool natural lighting
Temple Ruins
View from the top of the temple
Mayapán and the Cenote
This stop caught us off guard—in a good way.
Progreso’s pier runs nearly four miles from ship to shore. Long enough to reset your head and remember you’re not in Kansas anymore.
We linked up with our guide, Guadalupe, from Yucatán Cenote Eco-Adventuras. No rush. No chaos. Water in hand. Real hospitality—not the rehearsed kind.
Mayapán
Most people funnel straight to Chichén Itzá. Bigger. Busier. Roped off and regulated.
We went to Mayapán instead.
Quiet. Open. Alive in a different way.
Our Mayan guide walked us through the history of the site—how it functioned, how people lived, what mattered. Not just dates and trivia, but context. We weren’t “touring” ruins—we were moving through a place that once had purpose.
There was one other couple on the entire site.
When we asked about climbing, the answer was simple: “Go ahead.”
The temple steps were steep and narrow—five or six inches per foothold. Up was easy. Down sorted everyone quickly.
My son and son-in-law ran it like a ladder. My wife, daughter, and mom sat down and negotiated gravity one step at a time. I walked it like a normal human trying not to die.
From the top, the view stretched out in every direction. Ruins below. Jungle beyond. Quiet everywhere.
Some places don’t need explanation. They just need time.
The Cenote
From the ruins, we passed through a Mayan community and dropped into a cenote.
Eighty feet down to the water. Over 130 feet deep beyond that.
Crystal clear. You could see the bottom just by dipping your face below the surface. Scuba divers were already down there, disappearing into darker tunnels that connect to other cenotes—places you don’t reach without training and intent.
Light filtered in through a small opening overhead and hit the water just right. No photos do it justice.
We jumped from a rock ledge roughly thirty feet up. The water was cooler than expected—but not cold. Enough to wake you up and remind you where you were.
Lunch
After the swim, we were invited into a local family’s home for lunch.
Not a restaurant. A house.
A shared space—dining room, bedroom, living area—used for everything. They cooked a traditional meal for us and then showed us how to make tortillas by hand.
Ours looked… less professional.
We kept them anyway and used them later back on the ship. Proof of work.
This part stuck with me the most.
Seeing how people live when they don’t have excess—how space is shared, how meals are communal, how hospitality doesn’t require performance—has a way of recalibrating what you think you need.
Travel does that when you let it.
Takeaway
Mayapán wasn’t louder or bigger than other ruins. It didn’t need to be.
The cenote wasn’t a thrill ride. It was perspective.
And the meal wasn’t fancy. It was grounding.
Some days don’t need improvement—just attention.
On top of spag….. wait, no Mayapan Temple
Sean on the rope swing in the cenote
making tortilla shells, fresh!
