Coqui Coqui Coba Residence & Spa

Emerging from the comfort of our air-conditioned bus (the best way to travel overland in Mexico) we found ourselves on a remote dirt track beside a lagoon in the roaring haze of the mid-afternoon sun. This was Coba, and half the town was under water flooded by unseasonably heavy rain. The track connecting us to Coqui Coqui Coba Residence & Spa – a chic boutique hotel and spa in the depths of the Yucatan jungle – was submerged in what looked like two feet of murky floodwater.

My panicked visions of wading knee-deep in muck with bags held overhead were thankfully dispelled when a cab pulled up and expertly (if bumpily) carried us through the water. Lining the roadside, kids perched precariously in trees while fishing and women peddled pretty hand-embroidered dresses.

Much like the Mayan ruins it’s modelled on, Coqui Coqui Coba Residence & Spa loomed large with rugged elegance beside its tall palms and taller twin pyramids, which are connected (much to Mr Smith’s delight) by a rope suspension bridge. In front of the property the lagoon – a shining, mirrored expanse of still water – shimmered and at our feet we noticed an undulating carpet of tiny, minuscule frogs. If Lara Croft and Indiana Jones united to create the ultimate adventuring power couple, this is where they’d honeymoon.

Welcomed by the smiling Vilandy, the sweet young Mexican woman who runs the property along with her gorgeous husband Celso, she showed us the ponds where they raise fish for the restaurant, and the yard where chicken roamed and vegetables and plants grew for the kitchen. Yep, that’s about as organic as it gets.

Quickly checking us in, Vilandy walked us through the Coqui Coqui signature scents that come from the hotel’s sister perfumery in the city of Valladolid. The rich aromas of the Yucatan Peninsula inspire all the perfumes, which is where former model and Coqui Coqui founder, Nicolas Malleville, created his select scent portfolio.

Reaching our airy, loft-like lagoon-facing room dominated by a huge elevated bed, our nostrils were again flooded with the heady, evocative smell of orange blossom. On the bed clad in crisp cotton sheets, was a goodie bag from the perfumery, stuffed with tobacco and orange blossom cologne and shampoo, coconut sun lotion and all-important mosquito repellent. Spanning the entire upper level of one pyramid, our secluded digs were the definition of jungle chic and accented with stylish, atmospheric touches such as hand carved wooden furniture, rustic woven fabrics, panama hats, crocodile window handles. Even the air conditioning unit was carefully masked by attractive botanical paintings.

French doors led out onto the vast stone terrace and we drank rose and mint tea as we watched the sun go down, sending pearlescent pink streaks across the sky. After time just spent in the bustling colonial city of Merida, we relished the wilderness and its natural soundtrack with the singsong chirp of geckos, crickets and the hectic chorus of the jungle birds. And, we happily resigned ourselves to a couple of days of pure, isolated luxury – because that’s what you come here for – along with the chance to sleep on some of the most comfortable beds in Mexico and indulge in spa treatments with the sumptuous Coqui Coqui products.

Venturing downstairs for supper, we found a beautifully laid, candlelit table waiting for us under the stars. As well as rearing and growing many of the ingredients, Celso and Vilandy also cook the simple, regional and as fresh-as-you-could-hope-for food. This meant fragrant, restorative lime and chicken broth with crispy croutons of fried tortilla, followed by fish cooked in a deliciously sour pibil marinate – a Yucatan specialty. Returning to our room, we ended the evening on our terrace overlooking the lagoon where we witnessed no less than three shooting stars in a flare of glitter. It’s that kind of place.

The next day began with a hearty breakfast of huevos rancheros (eggs and tomato sauce on fried tortilla) and wonderful homemade bread with papaya jam and explosively aromatic honey that Cecil’s father makes in the depths of the jungle. It set us up for an expedition to the legendary Mayan ruins just down the road.

Shuttled across the floodwater courtesy of a hotel vehicle, we hired ramshackle bicycles to tackle the 6km ruin site. Mr Smith clambered up Nohoch Mul ‘The Big Mound‘, which offers incredible views across the forest canopy, and I stayed well grounded with a cold bottle of Mexican coke (sweetened with cane sugar rather than refined corn syrup).

In the spirit of adventure, we opted to find our own way back to the hotel, and as we passed by the lagoon, I saw a craggy rock poking out of the water about two feet away that looked uncannily like a crocodile’s head. ‘Look at this creepy crocodile rock!’ I squealed at Mr Smith. But it was gone. Thirty seconds later, what was clearly not a rock re-emerged with its black, lifeless eyes staring right at us. 

Lingering slightly longer than I should, I captured my Instagram-gold shot of the trip. Suddenly the hotel’s prominent crocodile brass work took on a whole new meaning. Showing Vilandy the photos, she was open-mouthed with surprise, calling Celso to see. ‘That’s a very big crocodile,’ she smiled nervously, wide-eyed. Welcome to the jungle, indeed.