“I’m a radical woman warrior” and other notes from a real-life ‘Mermaid Camp’

I had long resented the thought of visiting Tulum, Mexico. It’s always seemed to me to be an Instagrammer’s paradise with no real character—a fabricated facade of what Mexican culture is really all about. 

However, when I felt my third semester of law school approaching with only a few more days off before I’d be glued to a classroom, I took the minimal funds I had and booked the cheapest ticket out of NYC. The only last-minute deal I could find that my bank account would allow was to Cancun International Airport. I seized it as an opportunity to finally visit Chichén Itzá, which would be my sixth world wonder. As for having to base myself in Tulum, I’d find a way to deal with my own biases later.

That meant finding ways to spend my time aside from Chichén Itzá. While scrolling through #tulum on Instagram, past the repeated photos of the ‘Follow That Dream’ sign outside of Lolita Lolita Tulum (pro-tip: if you are going to take a photo at this sign, buy something from the shop), I saw something magical on my feed. Truly magical.

Mermaids.

Dozens of colorful, real-life mermaids swimming through crystal clear waters, flipping their fins, blowing bubbles, wearing seashell bras. The whole nine yards. I wanna be where the mermaids are. The associated account was @KaribbeanMermaids, and I had the chance to go join them.

7pm: The going gets rough 

I just landed at Cancun International Airport. Getting here was a little rough. I dropped my dog, Bowie, off at the sitter earlier. I had an envelope of cash to pay the sitter and managed to misplace it en route. One can hope that it’s in my apartment, shoved between couch cushions, sitting on my desk, or maybe in my freezer due to the chaotic sporadic nature in which I came here. I’m feeling low, questioning how logical the decision was to travel so haphazardly.

I grab a glass of Prosecco by my gate, and a man is arguing with the bartender over something unclear, but it’s causing a scene. I hope and pray he’s not on my flight, but as we begin to board, I learn he is. It feels like chaos is now personified, and I’m being followed. Luckily, we’re not neighbors in the cramped belly of the plane, and I have noise-canceling headphones capable of tuning out the rest of the world. To Mexico, I go.

I don’t think you’re supposed to get in cars with strangers, and you’re probably not supposed to accept random gas station margaritas, but in Mexico, we are throwing caution to the wind.

9pm: Uno margarita, por favor

I arrive at my hotel in Tulum. I booked Hotel MX Tulum, because, in total, it was only $156. My driver, Carlos, had to stop at a gas station on the way here, and when he asked if I wanted anything, before I could even process the thought, I blurted, “Margarita.” Five minutes later, he came out with a margarita in a 32 oz soup container, all for a whopping $2. Solid start to this trip, I’d venture. Carlos and I were having so much fun on the 90-minute drive to the hotel, I could’ve kept exploring the gas station treasures. But alas, Hotel MX Tulum awaits.

Carlos dropped me off with about 12 ounces of my 32-ounce left in my soup container. At that point, I was feeling unsurprisingly chatty, so I filled in Mauricio, a sweet employee at the hotel, on how I was going to be a mermaid in the morning. Quite the entrance to a check-in, but Mauricio seemed amused by my shenanigans. Before my head hit the pillow that night, I laid out my swimsuit and did my best to get some sleep.

7am: In an ocean full of fish, be a mermaid

I woke up excited, even though I’d only known about Karibbean Mermaids for less than a week. But here I am, a mermaid in training. I headed down to the hotel café to grab my required double espresso. I’m not sure if other mermaids need caffeine, but this one certainly does. I took a few nibbles of a banana, but my stomach was too floundery from the excitement of the day ahead of me.

Argentinian-born Mari Delgado, the founder of Karibbean Mermaids, picked me up for the lesson. I don’t think you’re supposed to get in cars with strangers, and you’re probably not supposed to accept random gas station margaritas, but in Mexico, we are throwing caution to the wind.

Rightfully so. We end up at a cenote. Namely, the Cenote Corazón del Paraíso right at opening, so we have the whole place to ourselves. This is known as ‘The Heart Cenote’ because it is literally shaped like a heart. I couldn’t make this stuff up. Mari opens a large bag filled with mermaid fins, tails and accessories. I pick out a bright blue and pink mermaid tail and the sparkliest mermaid bra in the bunch. She suggests I add a crown, and I trust anyone who shows up somewhere with a bag full of accessories, so I agree. While this might seem like an aggressive costume change for the average merperson, for me, it’s just another day. Every year I attend the Coney Island Mermaid Parade, properly deemed as “the best day of the year,” according to me. This event happens every June, and has led me to being quite accustomed to walking around in mermaid gear. Somehow, a bag full of mermaid accessories at a cenote early in the morning somehow makes me feel right at home.

After I get into my mermaid gear, I am cajoled into taking photos. Definitely not feeling confident quite yet, I sit in the heart-shaped wooden structure at Cenote Corazón del Paraíso, making awkward poses with my hands to mimic its heart shape. I learn Mari is an underwater model instructor, as well as a dancer. What starts as cute mermaid fun becomes a Vogue photoshoot. She has me lay on the ground and tells me that before getting in the water, mermaids have to find and connect to their inner goddess.

“Be playful, find your inner child, be your sensual self,” she says in a sultry voice, while snapping photos as I lay there awkwardly. Wildly out of my comfort zone, but wanting to get the most of the experience, I pretend I’m sexy. I really try to let go of all of my stresses: The lost envelope of cash, returning to law school, a rude comment someone made to me that I was only going on the mermaid excursion to “get photos.” I shake it all away and take Mari’s words to heart. I am a mermaid goddess. I am a radical badass woman warrior. I’m a hot mermaid bitch.

10:30am: Flipping your fins will get you far

After my risque morning photoshoot, it’s finally time to get in the water. Mari and her assistant both ensure I’m able to swim, and being a PADI Certified Diver, I confirm. However, swimming as a mermaid, turns out, is quite difficult. Like, truly hard. Your legs are completely restricted due to the tightness of the tail. At this point, I felt more like a sea sponge than a mermaid. This is partially why Mari encourages you to get in touch with your sensual self prior to getting in the water; you really need to use your hips to swim. It starts to feel only the slightest bit more natural until the cenote begins to fill up with more people, that is.

Believe it or not, swimming around as a mermaid draws some attention. But screw it, I’m having a blast. I never want to get out of this water. Mari and her assistant teach me how to blow ring bubbles. We do underwater somersaults and backflips, and Mari is catching all of it on film with her GoPro. For a short moment in time, I feel the weight of the world lift away. Underwater, I swear I hear Sebastian in the distance saying, “Kaitlyn, the human world, it’s a mess. Life under the sea is better than anything they got up there.” He’s right. I think I’ll stay a while.

“A while” translates to just a few hours before I have to wiggle my feet out of the fins and strip the tail off from my wet legs. Despite how much I love being a mermaid, I do have to admit that it’s satisfying to walk. On the way back to the car, we stop by a stand to get some fresh fruit, sharing pieces of dragon fruit with tiny toothpicks.

I feel lighter, rejuvenated, at ease—a stark contrast to my feelings just 24 hours ago. Even if it seems irresponsible on paper, even if there are some biases about a destination, traveling somewhere new is always a wave worth riding.

3pm: Friends in far places

Turns out, dragon fruit is not enough fuel to recover from five hours of mermaid training. We grab lunch at Burrito Amor, where I have no problems polishing off a massive carne asada burrito. As we drive back to the hotel, no topic is off limits: Politics, abortion, veganism, climate change, and on a lighter note, what we do for fun. Mari explains that being a mermaid can truly be a lifestyle. She hosts mermaid camps and retreats where people from all over, spending several days living the sweet mermaid life. I learn there are even Mermaid Freedive PADI Certification Courses.

I tell them I’m a musician, and we crank my song, “Portugal,” as we drive through the streets of Tulum. We are dancing and playing the song on repeat. It seems I have new fans in them just as much as Karibbean Mermaids has in me.

7pm: You are stronger than the tide

Back in the hotel lobby with Mauricio, I immediately start scrolling through my camera roll, regaling him with tales of my day spent as a mermaid, showing him I wasn’t just speaking the language of a 32-ounce marg last night.

As we scroll through, perhaps he’s faking enthusiasm, but he seems intrigued. He tells me he didn’t know this existed, and gives Karibbean Mermaids a follow on Instagram. Maybe next week, he will be a mermaid too.

***

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