#126 - From Sun to Seaweed: A Vilhelm Vacation Reflection

Hola, Vilhelmians! We just got back from our first family beach trip as a party of three (five, if you count the Frenchies dreaming of us from home). Here's what the Riviera Maya — seaweed, sargassum, toddler fry heists and all — taught us about presence over perfection.

From Sun to Seaweed: A Vilhelm Vacation Reflection

Hola from the land of sunshine, salsa, and surprising lessons from the sea!

We’ve just returned from our family escape to the Riviera Maya—our first beach vacation as a family of three (well, five, if you count Boujee and Dapper dreaming of us from their window perch back home, thank you Auntie!). As I sit back in our living room, still brushing imaginary sand off my shoulder, sipping on coffee and wondering if it’s too early to play mariachi on repeat, I’m filled with immense gratitude—and a healthy dose of reflection.

Let’s start with the obvious: we are so lucky. Lucky to be able to click a few buttons online, snag a last-minute deal, and suddenly find ourselves jetting off to tropical Mexico. That kind of spontaneous luxury—packing a suitcase one day and digging our toes into sun-warmed sand the next—is something we don't take for granted. Especially in this season of life, where planning even a grocery trip can feel like coordinating a summit.

And what awaited us on the other side of that flight? Magic. Truly. The Ocean Riviera Paradise in Playa del Carmen turned out to be far more than a name—it was a haven. I've stayed at a fair share of resorts over the years, and this one exceeded expectations on nearly every front. The staff was warm, generous, and ready with extra spoons and water with ice for a certain very charming toddler. The resort was beautifully laid out with shade, breeze, and plenty of quiet corners when we needed to reset. The food? Delicious. The views? Dreamy. And the pools… let’s just say, we now have a little water mermaid, who thinks swim-up bars are just big bathtubs with snacks and jump towers.

But of course, no story worth telling is all perfection. Reality joined us at the beach in the form of sargassum. If you haven’t heard of it, sargassum is a type of brown algae that floats on the surface of the ocean in massive patches and often washes up on shore during certain times of the year. We happened to arrive smack in the middle of the worst sargassum season locals say they’ve seen in years.

What does that mean in practical terms? Well, those iconic turquoise waters were mostly hidden beneath thick mats of seaweed. The smell—earthy and not exactly spa-like—would greet us each morning with the sunrise. Resorts work endlessly to clean it up, with crews starting before 6 a.m., raking and scooping for hours. But it’s a losing battle in many spots.

More importantly, sargassum isn’t just an inconvenience for camera-ready tourists. It deeply affects local communities and ecosystems. Hotel staff have to be doubled. Beachfront businesses lose traffic. Fishermen can’t take their boats out because the seaweed clogs motors. Tourism numbers drop, and with them, so do wages. Even marine life suffers, as the algae blocks light and depletes oxygen in coastal waters. It’s not just a Sargassum season—it’s an economic and environmental challenge with lasting impact.

And yet, the beauty of Mexico shone through. Perhaps even more because of the imperfections.

One of our favourite days was when we left the polished gates of the resort and ventured out to explore the real world just beyond the all-inclusive perimeter. We arranged for a safe, excursion with a lovely local driver who took us to Puerto Morelos, a sleepy fishing village nestled between Playa del Carmen and Cancún.

We didn’t go to see things—we went to be somewhere. No tight itinerary. No crowds. Just us, the breeze, and the sounds of kids playing barefoot in the sand. We found a low-key beachside café, grabbed a shaded bed near the shore (yes, still speckled with sargassum), and watched life unfold around us. The beach was alive with families enjoying their day off, music drifting from someone’s speaker, and the salty breeze weaving it all together with a Mayan dance show.

Alyce, true to form, made fast friends by stealing French fries from the tables next to ours. That tiny act of toddler diplomacy earned her waves and smiles. She played in the sand perfecting shoveling and splashing techniques with her dada. We lingered in that moment longer than we expected, just soaking it all in. It was the opposite of curated luxury—and yet, it was perhaps the most luxurious experience of our trip.

Did you know that Puerto Morelos is home to the world’s second-largest coral reef system, the Mesoamerican Barrier Reef? Or that its iconic leaning lighthouse is a result of Hurricane Beulah in 1967 and still stands tall—albeit a little off-kilter—like a proud old grandfather watching over the shore? The whole town felt like that: weathered, warm, welcoming.

That leaning lighthouse became our metaphor. A little wobbly from storms, but still standing, still guiding. That’s what this trip gave us—a reminder that travel isn’t about escape, but about presence. Even with seaweed in our hair and sand in our snacks, we created memories that will outlast any filter-perfect sunset.

So here’s to sargassum swims and toddler fry heists. To venturing outside the resort walls. To the quiet resilience of local communities and the shared joy found in the simple moments—beachside chats, shared meals, sea breezes, and the occasional chihuahua trying to steal Alyce’s juice box.

Thank you, Mexico, for all your colour, contrast, and heart.

Until the next adventure,
—Katerina, Damian and Alyce (the fries thief 🍟)