Dispatch from Riviera Maya, Mexico

We created this post in partnership with Bugaboo, inaugurating our new family travel newsletter, Yolo Junior

We chose the Riviera Maya somewhat impulsively, in that late-winter moment when you just want somewhere warm and relaxed. It was spring break, and with two young children and nothing pre-booked, the goal wasn’t so much discovery as it was ease. There are so many direct flights into Cancun, and once you’re there, everything is relatively close.

I should say, I’m not really a resort person. I don’t love being confined to a property, and I usually prefer having a car and the ability to move around. We had originally planned to rent one, visit the ruins, spend time in Tulum (where we hadn’t been in 10 years), and see some of the newer hotels in the area. Being in the hotel world ourselves, we’re usually trying to see and experience as much as we can and use trips like this as a way to observe and learn. This felt different. It gave us the space to slow down, relax (as much as one can with two young kids, ages 4 and 1), and still take in what makes a place truly work.

We split our time between Rosewood Mayakoba and Hotel Esencia, which ended up being an unexpectedly satisfying combination. Same coastline, completely different rhythms.

Rosewood felt familiar and very welcoming from the moment we arrived. The architecture is contemporary and tropical, but the real focus is on the landscape. Everything is spread out across lagoons and jungle, so the low-slung structures feel embedded in their surroundings rather than placed on top of them. You’re taken to your room by boat, a small wooden launch gliding through the mangroves, which immediately sets the tone and, for the kids especially, makes it all feel a bit magical.

On our first day, our four-year-old daughter ran into some friends from school, which gives you a sense of how social the place is, across every age. Maybe it was spring break, but there was a distinctly New York energy to it, a sense that families return year after year and it becomes part of their tradition. You start to recognize people, fall into conversation, and it has a warm, laid-back sense of community that’s surprisingly hard to create.

It’s also very easy with children. Everything is designed to work, with bikes, boats, and the lagoon winding through the property, and within a day or two you fall into a routine without thinking about logistics. There’s a network of quiet nature trails that connect everything, so even getting from one place to another feels like part of the experience. The property is part of a larger, purpose-built development, which I was slightly hesitant about going in, but once you’re there it feels lush, established, and very special.

There’s an incredible amount of programming, with children’s activities that are genuinely thoughtful, traditional Mexican cooking classes, movie nights on the beach, crafts—more than enough to fill your time, but it never feels overwhelming, just complete. We dipped in and out of it, including a lovely ecotour along the lagoon, where you can spot baby crocodiles, turtles, and all kinds of birds. It was relaxing for us and endlessly entertaining for the kids.

We also spent a lot of time in our room, which was large and comfortable, with an outdoor deck and a small wading pool overlooking the lagoon that the kids loved. There’s no shortage of food options; we didn’t even make it to all the restaurants and mostly stuck to Mexican, and everything we had was consistently good.

The service is exceptional, genuinely warm rather than overly polished. They clearly have a lot of experience with families, and there were small, thoughtful touches throughout that the kids loved: personalized pillowcases, surprise ice cream deliveries, and babysitters who felt both professional and easy to trust.

In many ways, it felt like a country club. Very social, very easy, everything thought through.

Moving to Esencia was a completely different experience.

The shift is immediate. You go from something familiar and full of energy to something much quieter and more introspective. It took a moment to settle in. But by the next morning, I was completely won over.

There’s something about the property that reveals itself slowly. It feels more rustic, more elemental. The main restaurant sits right on the edge of the ocean—open, breezy, and very beautiful—and you’re constantly aware of the landscape in a way that feels very different from a more structured resort.

The design is understated but extremely thoughtful. Whitewashed walls, dark wood, stone, clay, and handmade pieces are all rooted in place but never overly styled, more like a beautifully considered home than a hotel. Nothing is overdone; the entire space feels intentional and very personal. Even the boutique is exceptional—you find yourself wanting everything in it.

The service is softer here, more intuitive. The food was a real highlight. The menu is beautifully edited—simple, fresh, and very much in line with how I like to eat. Breakfast leaned slightly wellness-driven, with the best green juice I’ve had, coconut water, cilantro, and a mix of things I couldn’t quite place, alongside traditional Mexican dishes done really well.

We had planned to try the omakase at the Japanese restaurant but ended up at Beefbar every night, a slightly unexpected mix of everything you want to eat on vacation: spicy beef, wood-fired pizza, crispy rice, a Kobe Caesar. The atmosphere was hard to leave—dinner under the trees and string lights, with our kids running around nearby, one of those moments you want to hold onto, perfect in its simplicity.

The spa here was also incredibly special. I did a traditional temazcal ceremony, led by a shaman, which I had been curious about. It was not at all what I expected, though I’m not sure I went in with any real expectations. Sitting beside burning volcanic rocks as water was poured over them, the heat and steam building around you, was surprisingly therapeutic. It felt very different from a typical hotel spa experience, but beautifully done. Like everything else at Esencia, it felt intentional rather than designed for effect.

There’s very little to “do,” especially for children, which at first feels like a contrast to Mayakoba. But then you realize that’s exactly the point. The days slow down: pool, beach, wandering, climbing trees. Even the kids’ club reflects that, a few beanbags on an outdoor porch, a table, and two women playing games. It felt almost old-fashioned in the best way, the simplicity becoming the appeal. It’s less about what’s offered and more about how it makes you feel.

The days fall into an easy rhythm. Mornings are slow; you start to notice the same guests heading to yoga at the open-air pavilion or out to the tennis courts. We leaned into long breakfasts, then made our way to the pool, eventually drifting down to the beach. High tea at four became a natural pause in the day, a chance to sit, chat, and watch everything unfold around you.

Our daughter made friends almost immediately and spent most of her time barefoot, chasing iguanas and inventing games with the other kids. Everything is close by at Esencia, so nothing ever feels like a commitment. The day is entirely your own.

Evenings were just as lovely. One night there was a bonfire and smores on the beach by the bar, and most evenings began with a margarita by the water before heading to dinner. It felt like something we could have kept doing for days.

Each day, we debated doing more—Tulum for dinner, a trip to one of the many local cenotes, maybe even the Biosphere Reserve—but ultimately didn’t feel the need to leave. The contrast between the two places was enough. And almost everyone we met had been here before, which says something. I understood why.