Tulum’s Tourism Crisis: From Paradise Image to Empty Streets

Tulum, Q. Roo — Not long ago, Tulum was the darling of the Mexican Caribbean. Glossy fashion magazines sold the dream of the Tuluminatti lifestyle, celebrities from Angelina Jolie to Dua Lipa and Jeff Bezos paraded across its beaches, and the town marketed itself as a chic, bohemian-luxury paradise.

Today, that image is collapsing. The once “untouchable” destination is enduring its worst tourism season in years, with hotel occupancy below 40 percent and restaurants, beach clubs, and shops reporting steep drops in business.

What authorities and hoteliers frame as a gesture of generosity—opening Tulum’s private beach clubs to the general public—has been met with skepticism. For many, it’s a desperate attempt to fill empty tables and rooms. The irony is sharp: just months ago, access to public beaches was blocked unless visitors paid to enter the controversial Jaguar Park.

High Prices, Poor Services, Growing Insecurity

Critics argue the downturn was inevitable. Social media is filled with complaints from former visitors who say Tulum priced itself out of reach. Hamburgers at 400 pesos, burritos at 350, and even soft drinks for 200 pesos became common examples of what many describe as abuse.

“What did they expect? They wanted to sell a Coke for 200 pesos. That’s an abuse, even for the Americans,” one user wrote. Another added: “For years they looked down on national tourists, charged absurd prices, and offered terrible service. Now it blew up in their faces.”

Beyond prices, visitors and residents alike point to basic failings: unpaved and dirty streets, unreliable utilities, and public services more like a makeshift town than a luxury destination. Rising insecurity—including extortion and violent crime—has only deepened concerns.

Big Promises, Few Results

Real estate speculation and fraud have added fuel to the fire. Investors were lured with promises of high-end developments, only to discover projects built deep in the jungle with limited electricity, drainage, and water. Cases of outright scams, where buyers lost deposits on non-existent properties, have further tarnished Tulum’s reputation.

The two flagship infrastructure projects—the Maya Train and the new Tulum International Airport—were pitched as saviors that would secure the town’s tourism future. Instead, locals say they’ve delivered little more than disruption and controversy. The expected surge in visitors has not materialized.

“Neither the Tren Maya nor the new airport became the lifeline they promised. If anything, they’ve created more problems,” said one longtime business owner.

Social Media Turns on It’s Golden Child

The crisis has played out in real time on social media. Videos of empty bars, deserted streets, and half-full hotels have gone viral, often accompanied by commentary from Mexicans who say they feel vindicated. Many argue Tulum’s downfall was inevitable given its elitism and disregard for domestic tourists.

“Everyone wants to rip you off from the moment you arrive,” said one visitor. “They sell overpriced packages for the archaeological zone, taxi drivers are rude, and beach access is restricted. It was only a matter of time before tourism dropped.”

For the municipal government, the downturn has real costs. Mayor Diego Castañón recently secured a 70-million-peso loan to cover budget shortfalls attributed in part to the tourism collapse. Critics say this is just the latest sign of mismanagement, pointing to years of unchecked construction and projects that skirted environmental standards.

The contrast between Tulum’s past and present is stark. Once a playground for Hollywood stars and global elites, it is now a case study in how rapid, unregulated growth and inflated pricing can erode a destination’s appeal.

With hotel occupancy scraping historic lows, businesses struggling to survive, and public trust battered by fraud, insecurity, and mismanagement, Tulum faces a reckoning.

The federal government recently approved free access to all public beaches nationwide. But whether beachfront property owners in Tulum will comply—or whether the promise will fade into the same lofty speeches and broken commitments that have characterized the town’s trajectory—remains to be seen.

For now, the “paradise that sold itself” is left with empty streets and mounting debts, a reminder that even the brightest tourism stars can fall when excess overtakes sustainability.