Has Tulum Lost Its Luster?

Facing sargassum, beach fees and inflated prices—can Tulum reverse the trend?

Hola Amigos! The first time I went to Tulum we were traveling through the Yucatán in search of the perfect spot. I remember arriving in Tulum pueblo. Since it sits inland, not on the ocean, I was underwhelmed. But then we went to the beach road and shazam! The magic hit. Once known as the essential off the grid hippie paradise and possible inspiration for Buffet’s Margaritaville (though not alone there), Tulum is at a crossroads.

It started after the initial hippie in a hammock vibe had worn off. Yucatán travelers knew you could head out Tulum beach road in the early days before the Tulum Corridor became known as the Riviera Maya, score a hammock for $5USD a night, maybe even a palapa, and walk on white sand beaches the next morning, drinking water from a coconut. End of story.

From pueblo to sprawl, Tulum centro now

Until it wasn’t.

Word got around. Tulum was paradise. And then they came, around the early 2000s. Fashion models, music producers, occasionally movie stars. At first it was cool. Even an hour north in Puerto Morelos we’d hear the buzz: Do you know who’s staying in Tulum? Jessica Lange and Sam Shepard? Leonardo di Caprio? Cameron Diaz?

To give you an idea of what Tulum was like before it became the poster child for Eco-Chic (no electricity, cold water, top dollar), here’s what early hotelier Emilio Heredia told Town & Country about Tulum in the 1990s, "There was just a road with one and a half lanes, and it was dirt. There was no electricity. You would bathe in the cenote. For light you had fire. You ate what the fishermen brought in.”

Rustic and romantic. The Tulum scene started to drift from hippie to hipster in the early 2000s. Heredia chalked that up mainly to the efforts of Nicolás Malleville, an Argentine-born ex-model who opened the hotel Coqui Coqui with his Italian designer wife, Francesca Bonato.

Coqui Coqui, Tulum

Initially they were building a house, but it grew into a hotel accepting paying guests, their first being Jade Jagger, Mick’s daughter. Further up the beach a Manhattanite opened a retreat called Bikini Boot Camp where models and movie stars could rejuvenate while off the grid, no paparazzi allowed. The genie was out of the bottle.

Boho chic or laidback hippie

Boho chic, according to Heredia, came to define this patch of paradise on the Caribbean. Maybe for a different crowd, but it definitely wasn’t that to anyone who lived on the coast, far from it. Beach road traffic may have been getting worse, but you could still find a whole grilled achiote chicken for 50 pesos on Sundays and a good fresh-squeezed juice bar. Not everything was over the top, but change was in the air. As other glorified hostels caught up with Malleville’s vision, backpackers were gradually priced out.

Trendy shops began popping up on the beach road along with expensive restaurants. The Tulum aesthetic was born. Though hardly unique in Mexico where a minimalist style using natural materials like hardwoods, palapa roofs, plants, shells and lighting is common, it took off like gangbusters in Tulum and turned into something to behold.

Suite at Azulik, Tulum, au naturale

Then came the real estate hustlers. The basis for Tulum land buys has an unlikely beginning. Much of the beach land is ejido land, a communal land ownership program created as a way to redistribute underused areas to landless farmers and not to be sold.

To qualify for Quintana Roo to become Mexico’s 31st state (it was still a territory), the government needed sufficient population and economic viability to support statehood requirements. By ceding land to farmers—ejidos—they became citizens and countable. And in 1974, QRoo became a state.

Lounging and soaking on deck, Azulik

Ejidos in Tulum

In the 1970s an ejido was created in Tulum, but since the area was all jungle, no one bothered to precisely survey and size the tract—and crucially, the documentation was vague on whether it extended all the way to the beach. The ejidatarios, controllers of the ejido, believed it did, and they sold plots where many of Tulum's most popular hotels were built. Once Tulum got hot, real estate hot, then came a dilemma—those who said they owned the land before the ejido program was in place.

These titles are of questionable legality too, but for years none of this mattered because the beach was isolated and undeveloped. Sales of ejido land were informal and contracts were legally dubious. The buyers often rented properties out to third parties, like male model Malleville and his Coqui Coqui hotel.

Fast forward to 2016. The Semana Santa of Tulum’s discontent. Quintana Roo government cleaned house on 16 small hotel properties, Coqui Coqui being one of them, stating the present ‘owners’ did not, in fact, own them. No clear title. These properties were initially boarded up and guarded by security police, then eventually demolished, but sat behind a chainlink fence as an eyesore for what seemed like eons, halfway down the Tulum beach road. Meanwhile, trendy properties to the right or left looked like they could have come out of a Travel & Leisure photo shoot. Eyesore indeed.

Moving on

This was the catalyst for change. The designer crowd moved inland to construct glamorous lodges in the jungle or to open hotels in the colonial city of Valladolid, as yet undiscovered by waves of tourists. But the rumor factory had already declared to the world that Tulum was “the ultimate beach vacation.” It grew. And grew.

In the last decade, Tulum’s exponential growth in tourism led to the expansion of hotels and condos that have dramatically altered the landscape. Palapa huts, small B&Bs and minimal services—gone.

These large-scale construction projects, often lacking proper planning and environmental impact reports, resulted in filling environmentally protected mangroves and destroying natural habitats. Throw in newly inaugurated Tren Maya, a 1500 kilometer tourist train that traverses the peninsula and main Maya pyramid sites, and it has truly become an environmental challenge, with nature on the losing end.

Habitats Tulum Hotel

The massive infrastructure project completed no environmental impact or geological studies, pillaged forests and poured concrete into cenotes to shore up a fragile limestone environment for the railway that sits atop the world’s longest underground river system, which I wrote about here. Tulum is home to numerous cenotes and often the jumping off spot for cave diving.

Its stunning coral reefs, part of the Great Mesoamerican Reef, once thrived with marine life. That along with dazzling white sand beaches was what made this Mexican pueblo famous worldwide. However, the influx of tourists and inadequate waste management practices have led to significant water pollution on top of the occasional sargassum blooms that erupt when ocean waters heat up.

Sewage and chemical runoff from hotels, condos and homes have seeped into the groundwater and underground rivers ending up in the ocean, damaging the coral reef, endangering marine life, and affecting the livelihoods of local fishermen and dive operators. Eventually the excess nitrogen in the water resulted in excess algae, accelerated by sargassum blooms that come and go.

Along with that, the influx of foreign investors led to the displacement of Indigenous communities and small businesses that thrived early on during Tulum’s spectacular tourist run. For a while, it was win-win. Locals made money as Tulum grew. But new money wanted a more polished look. Out with the old.

In Tulum, the Mexican middle class—nationals, small business owners, long-term residents—is vanishing, writes The Tulum Times. Tulum is becoming an expensive stage.

But time—some may even say karma—is catching up with the once near mystical pueblo on the turquoise sea that enthralled all who came to stay. The untamed beauty of Tulum, writes the online paper, is experiencing its worst tourist season in a decade.

Granted, the sargassum (brown seaweed) is the worst in decades, says Jorge Alberto Portilla, longtime resident and current regidor in Tulum city council.

Where have all the tourists gone?

Coastal hotel occupancy has fallen to below 30 percent. This July, bars closed early and vacation and short term rentals were practically deserted.

“Swimmers go back to their rooms, they can’t swim in the sea if the sargassum is too bad,” Heredia said.

But The Tulum Times writes that sargassum isn’t the only problem. It’s just the most visible one.

“What truly plagues Tulum is unchecked development, ignoring environmental policies, and a tourism model built on exclusion and exploitation.”

Public beaches and access to them—once free to all—is now tied up in bureaucracy. For instance, Portilla says, beach access at the new Parque El Jaguar will cost foreigners $22USD or 415 pesos and locals $14USD or 255 pesos. (We won’t scrutinize the median pay in the Rivera Maya here, but for a family of four, a day at the beach would be a very expensive outing).

“It affects all visitors,” Portilla continues. “The very thing they came for is tied up with restrictions.”

This access to a public beach and the adjacent protected area now lies at the center of growing tensions with authorities and private operators. Initially an agreement with the municipality and Parque Jaguar had been made regarding beach access.

“An agreement was made that if locals presented their ID, they could all enter for free, but they have not complied with it,” said Tulum’s municipal president, in calling out Grupo Mundo Maya, the park’s owner, for failing to uphold their end of the bargain.

“This is not just for Tulum, not only for Quintana Roo; it is for all of Mexico. What we want is for any citizen to be able to enjoy their natural heritage,” the Tulum president continued.

In Mexico, citizens have free access to public sites and cultural services, a right protected by the Mexican Constitution. On Sundays, pyramid and cultural sites are free to locals. **(See recent update below).

Shifting sentiments

“A growing number of visitors—both Mexican and foreign—have begun to turn away. Services that were once generous now arrive with a price tag bigger than their value. And what’s worse? The infrastructure hasn’t kept up with the pricing. Potholes, power outages, trash left to rot and safety are now tourists’ top concerns.”

The documentary film, “The Dark Side of Tulum,” by Atlantis Studios, raised the alarm as early as 2006. It tackles the environmental disaster that Tulum has become.

Fragile ecosystem

“The underground river system is like the veins of the earth and when they become damaged, the entire area is affected, heavily polluted by a multitude of factors,” states the narrator’s voice.

“There’s a massive landfill right in the middle of the jungle a few kilometers from town. It has not been categorized or measured, which is standard practice for waste management, and hazardous pollutants are frequently leaking into the supply of fresh water,” Luis Leal, cave diver, says in the 2006 film.

“While many places do have individual waste water treatment facilities, most are poorly maintained or leak; the systems are often inadequate—made for 5-10 people and used for 100 instead. Multiply that by the population.

“We have the largest underground river in the world, like the Amazon but underground. It’s amazing and it helps our planet,” Leal continued.

Still, The Tulum Times writes, authorities have been slow to regulate. Locals and travelers have pleaded for relief from abusive taxi prices, corrupt police practices, and overpricing. They’ve begged for access to beaches that belong to people, not just developers and their friends.

Portilla and the local government are placing their hopes on cultural and festival tourism to draw people back to town and create an annual event that might rival the beach scene.

If this year’s horrendous sargassum bloom hadn't happened, there may have been a turnaround, but add to that the lack of beach access which is now at a fever pitch. That issue alone could shift the balance, and has reached national levels, all the way to Mexico’s Congress.

Tulum’s president met with federal lawmaker Ricardo Monreal this past week to unveil a legislative proposal aimed at restoring public access to Mexico’s protected natural areas. The initiative’s highlight is to guarantee at least one free entry day per week for all Mexican citizens.

“The emotional and political resonance of this dispute is clear: It’s not just about sand and ruins. It’s a test of whether natural beauty and culture can remain truly public for the citizens meant to cherish them, or whether economic interests will continue to erect invisible walls along the coast,” writes Riviera Maya News.

But the bitter truth, said Portilla, is that sargassum didn’t destroy Tulum, greed did. And silence helped. To survive, the town needs something it once had in abundance, authenticity.

So which way will Tulum go? Hopefully for paradise, change is gonna come.

If you’re planning a trip to Tulum or the Riviera Maya, sargassum, an intense seaweed found in the western Atlantic, is more prevalent from April to September. During fall and winter when the ocean is cooler, incident rates of sargassum build-up on Mexican beaches is less frequent, if at all. Isla Mujeres and Isla Holbox, due to their geographic locations, receive less sargassum (if any, at times). This is one link for sargassum monitoring that can keep you up to date on what to expect.

**While writing this post, on August 31 the public beach access issue reached a boiling point. “Highway 307 between Tulum and Playa del Carmen was reopened Sunday night after being blocked in both directions for roughly 10–12 hours by residents, merchants, and tour operators demanding free public access to Jaguar Park and its beaches. The blockade began around 10 a.m. and was lifted close to 9 p.m., causing kilometer-long backups and leaving hundreds of drivers stranded. Crowd estimates ranged from a hundred to over 400 people at the roadblock near the main entrance to the archaeological zone/Jaguar Park.—from The Yucatán Times. Read more about the standoff in The Tulum Times. One of the peaceful protesters when questioned, said, “Article 27 of the Constitution says the land and sea belong to the nation.”

If you enjoyed this post, please remember to hit the heart button to like it.

---

RESOURCES

Gaby Aziz. “How Tulum went from eco-chic to echo-chaos.” Medium. November 2023.

Renata Hale. “Tulum Bleeds in Silence: The Tourism Crisis No One Wants to Fix.” The Tulum Times. July, 2025.

“The Dark Side of Tulum.” Documentary film. Atlantis Studios. 2006.

Staff. Rivera Maya News.MX. “Tulum Beach Access Dispute Highlights National Issue.” August 25, 2025

Alex Cuaudros. “Inside the Turmoil in Tulum, Mexico’s Hottest Beach Destination.” Town&Country. March 2017.

Selene Vaughn. “The Law That Could Unlock the Beaches for the People.” The Tulum Times. August 22, 2025.

Tania Rivers. “They came with fences and Tulum acted with dignity. The Tulum Times. September 1, 2025.

---

MY BACKSTORY—Puerto Morelos sits 100 miles from four major pyramid sites: Chichen Itza, Coba, Tulum and Ek Balam. Living in close proximity to this Maya wonderland made it easy to pyramid hop on our days off from Alma Libre Libros, the bookstore we founded in 1997. Owning a bookstore made it easy to order every possible book I could find on the Maya and their culture, the pyramids and the archeologists who dug at these sites and the scholars who wrote about them. I became a self-taught Mayaphile and eventually website publishers, Mexican newspapers and magazines, even guidebooks asked me to write for them about the Maya and Mexico. I’m still enthralled by the culture and history and glad there’s always new news emerging for me to report on right here on Mexico Soul.

---

If you enjoyed this post, you may also like these:

Local Color Mexico Style

The Home Stretch—Chetumal, the Belize Border and Mexican Time

Sacred Waters at Risk: The Delicate Balance of Cenote Conservation