Yelapa

Back from Yelapa to a gray Monday—and a practical plan to make work travel with you.

We chartered a small fishing boat called the Yanet for a four-hour ride out of Yelapa—just the four of us: Ellen, Emma, Maya, and me, along with a two-man local crew who knew these waters like the back of their hands. It was one of those classic “let’s make a memory” decisions that comes with vacation territory—what I’d jokingly call forced family fun. And like most of those, it turned out to be something special.

Yesterday was my birthday — and this year, I spent it in Yelapa, Mexico: a beach town so remote you have to catch a water taxi just to find it on a map. No roads. No cars. Just jungle, cobblestone footpaths, and the promise of doing absolutely nothing — perfectly.

To mark the occasion, we set off on what was supposed to be a simple hike to the famous Yelapa waterfall. According to local legend (and several half-confident directions we got from a guy selling tamales), it was just a casual stroll through town and into the hills.

Impressionist-style view from Casa Flourish, Yelapa, Mexico – August 2, 2025

There’s something about waking before the world stirs that feels a little like stealing time. This morning, on the southern curve of Yelapa’s bay, I found myself wrapped in that kind of stillness—the kind you can’t manufacture, only discover.

Casa Flourish sits quietly above the water, nestled into the hillside like it’s been waiting for centuries to host mornings just like this. The sky was still dark when I slipped out of bed, long before anyone else in the house stirred. I made my way to the palapa roof, coffee in hand, and took in the moment. There were no distractions—just the rhythm of the water, the gentle clink of moored fishing boats, and the occasional distant crow of a rooster reminding the jungle it was almost time to wake up.