Returning to Mexico a Journey of Self-Rediscovery

As a single traveller, I've visited many romantic destinations solo, and I can assure you that New York, Marrakesh, and Paris are no less magical when you're at a table for one. But until recently, there was one place my heart couldn't handle visiting: the one that reminded me of my ex.

From the moment I first stepped foot in Mexico, back in my 20s, I was in love -- with the scent of the tropical air, with the sound of Latin American Spanish, and with the man who took me there. I had never had a passport stamp. But my then-boyfriend grew up as a citizen of the world and suggested a trip to Cancun to see Chichén Itzá, an archeological site famous for its Mayan pyramid.

That week of budget backpacking changed my life. I saw my first bougainvillea, ate my first wild banana, frolicked in the ocean and decided Mesoamerican culture was the most fascinating thing ever. We went back to Mexico, again and again, travelling for up to six months at a time. It felt like "our place." Until there wasn't any more "our" anything.

A year after we broke up, I returned to Mexico with girlfriends, but everything reminded me of my past relationship, casting a gloom over what should have been one of my happy places. I figured I would just have to let Mexico go.

But the destination had a pull on me as great as any person. So in January -- 15 years after my last visit -- I returned to vacation in Mexico again.

Before setting off for Isla Mujeres, a small island off the coast of Cancun, I'd heard a lot of negative chatter about how much the place has changed, with new all-inclusive resorts, and more foreigners.

Arriving at the ferry dock, I found instead a cheap, authentic taco stand and local rappers freestyling and immediately relaxed. In the queue, I met a group of goths from Mexico City -- we bonded over wearing all black in the hot sun -- and spent the breezy boat ride over chatting away in Spanglish.

When I landed on the island, the fact that I couldn't recognize anything was a blessing: It didn't remind me of a past life. I was free to make new memories.

Isla Mujeres is so narrow that, from the centre of town, I could take a short walk to watch the sun rise over the most easterly point in Mexico, then later catch the sunset on the other side.

I did this every day with much joy, a ritual of appreciating beautiful things that never change. Plenty of lovey-dovey couples were there doing the same, but not once did I feel lonely. My hot date at night was a universe of bright stars and the sound of the surf.

I embraced travelling single. In Cancun, I found a Mayan archeological site called El Meco, which recently reopened to tourists after a restoration, and happily explored with no companion but the resident iguanas.

I booked myself into the aquatherapy circuit at the luxury Kempinski Hotel Cancun. After steaming, soaking, and cold-plunging my cares away, I curled up in the relaxation lounge, where I noticed a stack of small cards, along with an invitation to choose one and meditate on its message.

I turned over a card: "To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance." Sure, that does sound a bit "Eat, Pray, Love." But it did give me pause.

Travel can often be a wonderful escape, and I had just proved that I could come back to a place that reminded me of heartbreak and not be sad. True self-love, though, would take more than a weekend away.

I slipped that card into my pocket to take with me wherever I go next.