Arriving at Four Seasons Tamarindo on Mexico's Costalegre, or “Joyful Coast,” I was struck by the monolithic, sand-colored concrete structures rising from the lush jungle, evoking Denis Villenueve’s Dune—if it were set by the sea. The dramatic, geometric forms felt futuristic, yet they blended seamlessly into the surrounding 3,000-acre nature reserve.
“We are always asking ourselves, ‘Will the jungle forgive us?’” Felix Murillo, the general manager of Four Seasons Tamarindo, told me upon arrival that cloudless day. He explained that the development of the hotel accounts for only two percent of the nature reserve; similarly, Costalegre neighbor Costa Careyes has developed under two percent of its 20,000-acre nature reserve. On the contrary, Murrillo says that Punta Mita’s guiding light was development from the start. One might say the same of Tulum, which has exploded over the years.
When I shuffled across the open-air reception area surrounded by a floating Tetris-shaped pool, the building framed the sky like the striking scene in Arrival when the main characters approach the alien spacecraft.
I was reminded why I came: to experience the grandeur of architects Mauricio Rocha, Victor Legoretta, and Mario Schjetnan, whose work channels the site-sensitive principles of Luis Barragán. The sand-hued volcanic stone forms of Four Season Tamarindo evoked Mexico City’s Casa Luis Barragán, and even Ricardo Bofill's La Muralla Roja, the bolder-hued citadel above the ocean on Spain’s Costa Blanca.
This merger of Mexican talent extended to the hotel’s interior, culinary, and sartorial choices in a way that offered a visually stunning tone to all activities during my three-day stay at this 157-room retreat in February.
The Room Atop The Cliffs
Stacy Suaya
When you approach the Panoramic Cliffside Suite with an infinity pool, you see a descending staircase and endless ocean. The suite is to your right, but you will only see the door when you reach it; a choice that was made by design, prioritizing nature’s presence whenever possible. The suite’s 1,593 square feet are divided into a living area, bedroom, and a bathroom with a sunken tub and both indoor and outdoor showers—all with sweeping ocean views. Then: a 13-meter infinity pool with panoramic Pacific views just for me, plus a hammock for jungle daydreaming.
In the living area, I admired the exquisite woodwork of the Taracea furniture, handcrafted by local artisans and selected by lead interior designers Uribe Krayer and Estudio Esterlina. And next to my welcome fruit bowl and chocolate agave sculpture? A framed photo of me and my two sons. This forethought made me cry; I’ve traveled to 27 countries and never seen a hotel do this.
The grand headboard in the bedroom, inspired by Chiapas looms, stole my attention in the bedroom area for its intricate details (“They’re hard to clean!” Barbara Cervantes, the hotel’s marketing manager, tells me later). I flopped onto the bed momentarily, sinking my bones into the fortune of AirCool Foam, then carried my welcome mocktail of hibiscus and tamarindo onto the patio. From my hammock, I watched the sky turn from blue to radioactive papaya, and returned to my room to dress in vintage Alexander Wang for a 7 p.m. dinner reservation.
Culinary And Sartorial Delights
Stacy Suaya
The first thing I noticed at on-site restaurant Coyul, which refers to a type of palm tree that grows in the Americas, were the staff uniforms. As a former Boom Boom Room cocktail waitress who wore a silk, ivory Rubin Chapelle gown to sling drinks (Cynthia Rowley was quoted in the New York Times saying the dress turned the waitresses into “angel nurses”), I’ve long admired hotels that prioritize uniform design—they make spaces feel more cinematic.
Kris Goyri, a Mexico City Fashion Week darling, drew inspiration from pre-Hispanic symbolism to create all the uniforms at Four Seasons Tamarindo. Each space within the hotel had a different subset of an overall palette, which consisted of flowing dresses, bold but earthen colors, and custom woven check presenter bags for servers.
Coyul, created in partnership with the 2023 World’s Best Female Chef, Elena Reygadas, brought flavor bombs to my table. As a plant-based eater of eight years, I don’t always feel like I’m getting the most special dishes on the menu, but here I didn’t feel shorted: Lemon-pickled beets with almonds followed by Jerusalem artichoke with more almonds and a dry chili sauce, washed down with a mezcal margarita, made for a tripartite delight.
The Biggest Little Farm And A Massive Spa
Four Seasons Tamarindo
At 9:30 the next 80-ish degree morning, an electric golf cart snaked me through the jungle for a couple miles until we reached Rancho Lola. Resort Manager Herve Fucho, previously an executive chef for Four Seasons hotels, and agronomist, Juan de Dios, hopped out of the driver’s seat row. At Lola, the two have helped build a sustainable farm from scratch; they’re currently experimenting with coconut shell combustion for heating, growing stingless melipona bees for honey, and nixtamalizing corn for their on-site tortilla mill.
As we walked past the goat and chicken pens, trailed by the resorts’ resident Pyrenean Mountain Dogs, Tequila and Mezcal, Fucho and Dios spoke about their months-long, trial-and-error experiments with soil and biodiversity as a way to regulate pests and diseases instead of using chemicals. For example, at one point, the team introduced ducks to eat bugs, but this idea proved unsuccessful. At another point, they planted corn, and animals ate the harvest. Hearing these stories reminded me of John and Molly Chester in the documentary, The Biggest Little Farm. The farm provides eggs, flowers, and will eventually produce meat, poultry, vegetables, fruit, and spices, for the hotel’s restaurants. Guests can also book cooking classes and chef’s table experiences.
Post-farm, I visited the hotel’s 31,200-square-foot spa for a deep tissue massage. There, Oaxaca red clay walls and volcanic stone hemmed me into a fortress of calm. Using deliberate strokes and sweet, musky-smelling Copal (a local tree resin) oil, my masseuse released the knots in my neck and upper shoulders caused by digital strain, children, and forthcoming tax preparation. I washed off in an outdoor shower and dried my hair in their luxurious primping area, where I promptly fell in love with a wooden hairbrush. It was then time for cauliflower tacos and a coconut water-based “Sol” mocktail (if sunshine came in a glass, this was it) at Nacho, and a poolside reading session.
Around 7 p.m. I donned a vintage Yves Saint Laurent blazer and a hemp dress I’d scored in Portugal’s Algarve a couple years back for dinner at Sal, where I tried a jicama ceviche that took me back to the first time I ever tried leche de tigre in Lima 15 years ago. Nobody forgets that vibrant, spicy taste, but again, being plant-based, you don’t always get one-to-one approximations. This dish was so good, I emailed the hotel about it later to thank them, and they sent me the recipe—an ace move.
A Seaside Sound Bath Makes for the Best Send Off
At sunrise the next day, I tipped a straw hat on my head and walked to reception, where shadows cast by wooden slats hanging from the ceiling resembled the scene in Blade Runner 2049 when K (Ryan Gosling) visits the temple-like Wallace Corporation headquarters.
Resident biologist Drancisco Leon Gonzalez greeted me, then led me on a three-mile ethnobotany walk through the property. At times, the trees cleared like curtains that opened into views of the pristine, undulating-through-the-cliffs, David Fleming-designed golf course. He picked plants off the trees or the ground and explained how pre-Hispanic cultures used native plants for healing; copal was traditionally used for spiritual cleansing, and the anti-inflammatory capomo bean is both a superfood and a decaf coffee substitute.
The path opened into a grass clearing overlooking three stacked, Rothko-esque rectangles: Dorada Beach, ocean, sky, all softening their edges and blurring into one another. A lotus-posed Jorge Bermudez (the resort’s wellness manager) guided me onto a yoga mat, where I controlled my breath, stretched, and let the subsequent sound bath lull me into one of those flow states where you forget who you are and why you’re there. With the dueling sounds of the ocean and the bowls washing over me, I sunk my weight into the mat and left my body and all of life’s taxes: its own vacation within a vacation.
Stacy Suaya
