My Own White Lotus Experience

I lounged in my heated private plunge pool, reading A Cook’s Tour: In Search of the Perfect Meal by Anthony Bourdain. The peaceful guitar strums of Hermanos Gutiérrez played from my portable speaker, blending with the distant crash of waves. The world felt still, suspended in solitude and quiet indulgence.

I was so absorbed in the nothingness of it all–the way the sun danced through palm leaves, casting shifting patterns on the water–that I didn’t hear the knock at my door. My presence must have startled the worker more than his did mine. He set down the tray he was carrying and slipped out the door before I could say gracias.

Because I have the patience of a child at Christmas, I padded into my villa, leaving behind a trail of wet footprints. There was a card welcoming me to the property, artfully arranged cucumber slices, a black container full of pistachios, and two small chocolate treats.

I grabbed the cucumbers and went back to the pool.

In a recent interview with The New York Times, American travel writer Rick Steves talked about two types of travelers. Culture travelers seek to expand their worldview, engaging with locals and immersing themselves in the rhythm of a place. Escape travelers, one the other hand, crave a break from daily life. They want leisure in familiar places, often with a cocktail (or several) in hand.

I’ve always considered myself the former. I’ve slept on the floors of coffee farms, spent two sweltering days traveling down the Mekong River, danced the Horan with high school students in Trabzon, Turkey, and spent a summer in a rural Indian village. My kids have never been to Disney World, but they’ve traveled across Guatemala on overnight buses, hiked through rainforests, and boated down the Ganges.

I’ve never been on a cruise and hadn’t stayed in a resort until I started being invited on press trips. I’ll never forget walking into my first hotel stay, where I was greeted with a bottle of wine and a charcuterie board. Corner suites, open bar tabs, and complimentary spa treatments have become–dare I say–commonplace.

Much like my fascination with The White Lotus, these experiences have offered a glimpse into how the wealthy vacation. You know, the kind of people who can casually drop $500 on a cabana at the Four Seasons. When my mom and I were escorted to our free private cabana, she asked, “Do you think people assume we actually paid for this?”

“Surely not,” I replied, glancing down at my Target swimsuit and Old Navy flip-flops.

When my son and I walked into our penthouse suite–complete with a pool table in the living room and a private terrace usually reserved for corporate gatherings–he looked around in disbelief. “Our life is not this fancy,” he muttered.

“It is this weekend,” I replied as I pulled the prepaid American Express card from a gift basket stuffed with t-shirts, gourmet treats, and other souvenirs.

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I didn’t experience true escapism until I started staying at resorts in Mexico. I was a little apprehensive the first time I visited Puerto Vallarta, but surprised myself with how quickly I adapted to the lifestyle–slow mornings with coffee, leisurely breakfasts at the hotel restaurant, and afternoons spent lounging by the pool with a drink in hand.

Nothing more is expected of you. Maybe you take a nap, definitely a shower, and then you head out for dinner and more drinks. The next day, you do it all over again.

Early mornings with coffee are my favorite time of day, so in Cabo San Lucas, I started each day on my terrace, watching the behind the scenes work of the staff. Lounge chair covers were replaced, umbrellas opened, and towels were artistically arranged on each chair. While the guests slept off their hangovers, an entire team worked to ensure effortless luxury.

When I went down for breakfast, the same staff members who had been up long before sunrise greeted me with friendly smiles. It reminded me of the opening scene from The White Lotus, where the resort manager reminds everyone to put on happy faces as a new boat of guests arrives.

And just like Shane, the entitled guest played by Jake Lacy, some of the visitors lived up to the worst stereotypes. I overheard a man snap at an employee “to find someone who speaks better English.” God, that’s painful to listen to, especially coming from someone who spoke zero Spanish in a Spanish-speaking country. I wanted to shout, You’re in Mexico, for fuck’s sake! But I resisted.

The pool-side conversations followed a predictable script:

1. How much alcohol was being consumed.

2. How brutal the morning hangover was.

3. How much they planned to drink in the evening.

“Dear god, these are not my people,” I told my mom over the phone one evening.

“You didn’t expect them to be, did you?”

After two nights, I had had my fill. How many days can a person spend drinking in the sun? I wondered as I loaded my suitcase into an Uber.

I traveled up the coast to Todos Santos, a quiet town on the Pacific. The moment I arrived, I knew I was in a different world. A staff member greeted me at the entrance with a natural juice before leading me through a botanical garden filled with hummingbirds, cacti, and agave to my ocean-front villa.

Everything about this property was pristine. My villa was secluded enough to have a private plunge pool, a fireplace, and even an outdoor shower. It was dreamy. I wanted to experience everything–afternoon dips in the pool, outdoor showers under the open sky, long soaks in the tub with views of the ocean, reading on the couch, wine by the fire.

When I realized I hadn’t left my villa since I arrived, I changed out of my robe and wandered through the gardens, wanting to savor every minute of this place.

This is how to live, I thought, as I sipped my last morning coffee, listening to the waves crash against the shore.

Maybe I could become an escape traveler after all.