Mexican and Mexican’t: How I Fell (Back) in Love South of the Border

“Mexico? Mmmm no. No.”

I added a few thumbs down emojis to the text and hit send. My friend Jen was asking me to jet off to Punta Mita in Nuevo Vallarta for a week and I was having none of it. The word “Vallarta” made my stomach lurch. In high school I’d gone to Puerto Vallarta three different times–it’s a quick flight from my SoCal hometown–and spent 90% of each getaway getting overly familiar with the hotel room’s toilet thanks to a bad pair of tacos. Or maybe the ice. Or maybe the water I brushed my teeth with. Or maybe just the country itself didn’t agree with me. All I knew was, I am hideously susceptible to food poisoning and Mexico was my greatest nemesis.

I knew when to raise the white flag.

But then Jen said the magic words: press trip.

The thing I love about press trips is that you really get to know the town. A lot of times, when left to my own devices in a relaxing locale, the most exploration I do is venturing to the far swim-up bar for another Miami Vice. I justify But on a press trip, they really make sure to teach you all about the area and check out things that the average tourist wouldn’t happen upon. Why, in Barbados we went to the ruins of a jewish temple. I’d never have meandered there on my own, but it really was cool to learn about that weird aspect of Bajan history.

So, like an ex too hot and crazy to forget about, I was getting sucked back in. I can’t quit you, Mexico!

Two weeks later, I was stuffing my sleeping bag of a winter coat in the deep recesses of a closet at the St. Regis Puta Mita. The region is a vacay favorite of the Kardashians and while I don’t consider them to be the epitome of good taste, those bitches know how to pick a destination…

The St Regis was one of, if not the most, beautiful resorts I’ve ever stayed at. But it isn’t cheap–the room I stayed in runs about $1350 per night, and came with my own private butler. I made him kill a bug for me :/ It also had an outdoor shower, which, if you haven’t experienced one, sounds kind of lame and whateverish. But then you come home after a day in the sun and realize that an al fresco shower is to hygiene what Nutella is to desserts: a game changer.

The balcony was just as amazing. Since it’s still the dead of winter in New York, I’m basically one more chilly day away from a Vitamin D deficiency tailspin. I keep waiting to get rickets. So, desperate for fresh air, I ended up sleeping on the daybed on the balcony in the balmy moonlight.