Naturist Travel in Mexico: A Couple’s Reflection Beyond Resorts

Intima conversations, Energy Resort’s warmth, naked healing firsts, and new friendships. Mexico taught us more about each other than any guidebook could.

This isn’t a resort review. It’s not about star ratings, menus, or room service. This is about what happens when a couple discovers naturist travel in Mexico. When every new place, every unclothed moment, becomes part of a relationship story.

For us, naturism has always been about more than beaches and sunshine. It’s about connection… to ourselves, to each other, and to the strange, beautiful freedom that comes when you strip away everything familiar.

After Paya Bay in 2020 lit the spark, and a year at our local naturist park kept that spark alive, Mexico in 2022 became the next step, since COVID didn’t give us a 2021 vacation.

It was a series of firsts. Our first naturist resorts in Mexico, our first private naturist retreat, our first nude snorkeling adventure in a cenote, and even Corin’s first time topless on a public beach. But more than that, it was a mirror… showing us how naturism keeps shaping our relationship.

This isn’t just the story of where we went. It’s the story of what we learned about each other… and how being naturists together makes us a different kind of couple.

Intima Resort: Relearning the Rhythm of Social Naturism

Intima sits tucked away in the jungle of Tulum… a boutique, clothing-optional resort built around a winding, free-form pool that feels more like a cenote than a hotel courtyard. It’s private, lush with greenery, and designed in a way that makes nudity feel natural the moment you step inside.

COVID was still shaping travel. The resort restaurant stayed closed most of the time, and the poolside bar never opened that we saw. At first that felt like a loss, but soon we realized it gave us something else… the chance to make our space our own. Our apartment had everything we needed, and so we cooked, poured drinks for each other, and lived as if we had always belonged there.

For us, Intima was where we learned to breathe back into travel social naturism after two long years. At Paya Bay, everything had been brand new. At our local naturist park, it was about finding community close to home. But Intima was something else… being nude among complete strangers, with no history to fall back on.

We’re introverts by nature. At home, we lean on the comfort of regulars and the ease of familiarity. Here, every conversation began from scratch. That wasn’t always easy. Meeting new people while naked pushes emotional boundaries just as much as it pushes physical ones.

But what made it possible was this… no matter what else set us apart, we all had something in common. Naturism. That shared choice stripped away the usual walls. Small talk gave way quickly to real conversation. Laughter came easier. And even when our energy was low, we could feel the quiet comfort of belonging simply because we were there.

And during COVID, that sense of belonging meant even more. The pandemic had fractured community everywhere… including naturism. Clubs, parks, and resorts went quiet. Some people discovered they were perfectly happy being home naturists, content to live their nudity in private. But for us, and for many others, there’s something essential about being with others. Naturism isn’t just about nudity… it’s about connection. We flourish when we share it, when we sit by a pool with strangers who don’t feel like strangers for long, when we feel that common ground. That’s the gift Intima gave us.

Our late afternoons were spent by the pool, drifting in and out of conversation with other guests. As evenings fell, we’d retreat to our penthouse suite… a little oasis with its own rooftop pool and a private hot tub on our patio. There, under the stars, we’d soak, talk, or simply sit together in silence, letting the night close in around us.

Intima wasn’t just a stop on our trip. It was a gentle reawakening. A place where we relearned the rhythm of social naturism, stretched our comfort zones, and discovered again how much closer it brings us together as a couple.

Energy Resort Tulum: Meeting Jenny, Finding Intimacy

Arriving at Energy Resort Tulum carried its own nerves. We weren’t just checking into a naturist retreat… we were about to meet THE Jenny Scormadaglia. The Jenny you see online, on TV, radiating bold confidence and energy. For those who may not know, Jenny Scordamaglia is a Spanish-American media personality, best known for her unfiltered, body-positive work in naturism and her bold presence on nude TV broadcasts and live streams. She’s larger-than-life online, a figure who radiates confidence and draws strong reactions wherever she goes. For two introverts, that thought was intimidating enough.

But the moment we arrived, every expectation fell away. Jenny greeted us nude, with the biggest smile and genuine warmth. No performance, no spotlight… just kindness. The reality was so much softer than the persona we thought we were walking into.

But Energy Resort wasn’t some polished mega-resort with decades of history behind it. At the time of our visit in 2022, it was still very new. Jenny’s personal studio and retreat, a project she had built around her philosophy of freedom, energy, and unapologetic nudity. In many ways, it felt less like a commercial resort and more like stepping into her personal vision of naturism.

Because of COVID, we were the only guests during our stay, aside from Jenny and her husband. That meant the entire resort felt like it belonged to us for 5 days. And we loved it that way.

We stayed in a fully self-contained wooden cabin tucked in the jungle, surrounded by birdsong and the rustle of leaves. It was simple, natural, and intimate. The kind of space that makes you forget about schedules and tourist attractions. We didn’t want to leave for day trips. We wanted to stay put, soaking in the quiet, naked together, with no one else around.

Even when Jenny appeared by the pool, or came to help us in the communal outdoor kitchen, she never felt imposing. She was sweet, approachable, and full of easy conversation. And of course… always nude. It was less “meeting a media personality” and more like sharing space with someone who happened to live and breathe naturism in her own unique way.

What made it more special was Jenny herself. She would sit with us by the pool, barefoot and unhurried, talking openly about her dreams for the place. How she wanted it to grow, what she hoped it would mean to people. Those conversations drifted beyond the resort too. We talked about relationships, about life, about what it means to try and build something authentic in a world that often misunderstands naturism.

One evening, curiosity got the better of us, and we agreed to try one of Jenny’s intimate energy healing sessions. The practice itself was simple: each of us, one at a time, held Jenny close for about ten minutes. No script, no performance, just contact… skin to skin, breath to breath.

We’re not particularly into the “life energy” or spiritual healing world. It’s not our language. But Jenny lives it with complete conviction, and you can feel it radiating from her. She doesn’t just talk about energy… she embodies it. Standing there, you can’t help but sense that what she’s giving you is sincere, unfiltered, and offered with nothing but openness.

Before we began, she looked at me and said with a smile, “Don’t worry if you get an erection… it can be a normal part of the healing.” It was a disarming moment, but it captured her openness perfectly. There was no judgment, no awkwardness… just an acknowledgment that bodies are natural, and reactions can happen through physical touch.

Even with that reassurance, it was also one of the strangest moments we’ve shared as a couple. To stand a few feet away and watch your partner holding someone else completely nude, chest to chest, was surreal. To hold another woman completely nude, while Corin was watching just a few feet away. That’s not something most couples ever imagine themselves doing. And yet, it wasn’t sexual. Not even close. It didn’t carry the sexual atmosphere of partner play. But it was undeniably intimate. The kind of intimacy that sits in a gray space between comfort, curiosity, and vulnerability. We weren’t jealous, but we were both very aware of what we were seeing, how we felt in the moment, and of how unusual it was.

For us, it became less about energy healing and more about trust. Trust in Jenny’s sincerity, trust in the space to remain respectful, and most importantly, trust in each other. It was a reminder that intimacy isn’t always defined by romance or desire. Sometimes it’s defined by how far you’re willing to stretch your boundaries together, and how you support each other when you step into something unknown.

Whether or not we walked away “healed,” we walked away changed. Not in a spiritual sense, but in the sense that we’d pushed through a new experience without fear, without shame, and without losing sight of each other. And that, in its own way, was healing enough.

And that’s what we carried away from Energy Resort. The reminder that naturism, in all its forms, always circles back to trust and respect. Trust and respect in yourself, in your partner, and sometimes even in strangers who welcome you with nothing but honesty.

Whatever the moment gave us, we processed it together, and that made it ours.

Nude Snorkeling in a Cenote: An Adventure Shared

As if staying at Energy Resort weren’t memorable enough, Jenny arranged something we’d never done before… a private trip to a cenote for nude snorkeling. The idea was both exciting and nerve-racking… stepping into ancient waters, stripped of everything but our courage.

Adding to the adventure, we had arranged to meet another naturist couple we’d connected with online… Chad and Gen from Montana. By coincidence, they were staying at another nude resort nearby, so we picked them up on the way. What began as a quiet outing suddenly turned into a shared adventure. Four strangers who weren’t really strangers at all, brought together by naturism.

The cenote complex itself was far more than we expected. There were five different cenotes to explore, each with its own personality. One opened wide under the sun, with crystalline blue water that shimmered like glass. Another was hidden in shadow, cool and mysterious, with echoes that carried every laugh and splash. A third was framed by roots dangling from above, as if the jungle itself was peering down at us. Each new space shifted the mood… from playful to meditative to awestruck.

Snorkeling nude through those waters was unlike anything we’d ever done. The cool silk of the water against our skin, the weightless drifting, the way the light broke into shafts under the surface… it all felt almost otherworldly. At first, there was nervous energy, the awkwardness of being four naked people in close quarters. But it dissolved quickly into laughter, pointing out fish, marveling at rock formations, daring each other to dive deeper.

What could have been strange was instead freeing. Naturism has a way of stripping away more than clothes… it strips away the barriers between people. By the time we climbed out, we weren’t just Canadians and Americans sharing a day. We were friends who’d lived something extraordinary together, something that would never quite fit into words but would always stay in memory.

Afterward, the four of us went for lunch, still glowing from the experience. Over food and easy conversation, we got to know each other better… not just as naturists, but as couples, as people. We still talk about meeting up again for another adventure one day, and that possibility keeps the memory alive.

And for us as a couple, it added another layer. Experiencing new things together is always good for a relationship, but there’s a uniqueness when those things are done nude. It becomes yours in a way most people will never understand or experience. That day in the cenote wasn’t just an adventure. It was a reminder that naturism, when shared as a couple, turns ordinary memories into something deeper, something intimate and unrepeatable.

Half Moon Bay: Our Private Sanctuary

After the social rhythms of Intima and the intimacy of Energy Resort, our last stop in Mexico brought something entirely different… a chance to create our own naturist space. We stayed at Del Sol Beachfront in Half Moon Bay, right next to Akumal Bay. Nothing fancy, no polished resort amenities. Just a comfortable rental with one priceless feature… a wide, private patio overlooking the ocean.

It was here that Corin had her first experience going topless on a public beach. Technically, it’s illegal in Mexico… but we were tucked to the side, away from the main crowds, and no one seemed to mind. It wasn’t about breaking rules… it was about breaking through another personal boundary. To see her walking the sand, shoulders back, smiling, was its own kind of milestone. One of those moments that looks small but feels enormous.

We decided to snorkel in the bay and Corin even went topless while snorking… just because she wanted to. The water was rougher than expected, and getting back to shore turned into a comedy act. Wave after wave knocked us down, rolling us like pebbles on the sand. Every time one of us tried to get a footing, the other would be swept up, and the two of us ended up doubled over in hysterical laughter. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was unforgettable.

Back at Del Sol, our large patio became the heart of our stay. We lingered there at sunrise with coffee, and at sunset with drinks, as nude as if the world outside didn’t exist. After the shifting energies of resorts and adventures, that patio gave us the gift of stillness. Time to simply be a couple, naked, relaxed, and at home in our skin.

It was the perfect ending to our Mexico journey. A reminder that naturism doesn’t always need a crowd or even a label. Sometimes it just needs two people, an ocean view, and the decision to live those hours unclothed and unguarded.

What Mexico Taught Us About Us

Looking back, Mexico wasn’t just about where we went. It was about what we learned about each other along the way.

At Intima, we discovered how much we’d grown since our first trip to Paya Bay. We learned that even as introverts, we could step into a social naturist space, strike up conversations with strangers, and actually enjoy it. As long as we had each other to lean on and a space to retreat to.

At Energy Resort, we learned that expectations rarely match reality. Meeting Jenny wasn’t about being dazzled by a media personality. It was about discovering warmth and humanity in a place that gave us intimacy and trust. And in that odd but sincere moment of energy healing, we learned something else. That even the strangest experiences can strengthen us as a couple if we process them together.

In the cenotes, we learned that adventure hits differently when you’re nude. And that friendship can spring from the simplest choices, like picking up Chad and Gen on the way. Sharing that day with them, then sharing lunch, reminded us that naturism is also about building connections that last far beyond the water.

And at Half Moon Bay, we learned that sometimes the most meaningful naturist spaces are the ones we create ourselves. Corin’s first time topless on a public beach, our hilarious defeat by the waves, and the quiet comfort of our patio showed us that naturism doesn’t always need a stage. Sometimes it just needs us.

These lessons became more than memories. They became part of OurNaturistLife. They taught us that being a couple in naturism isn’t just about sharing nudity… it’s about discovering new ways to trust, to laugh, to belong, and to grow together.

Every trip pushes us differently, but Mexico reminded us of the same truth. Naturism is never just about being nude. It’s about who you are when you’re bare, who you choose to share that with, and what it means when two people carry those experiences forward… together.

---

We hope you enjoy our human experiences in naturism. Please share, like, leave a comment and subscribe to get notified when we post something new.

You can also Buy us a coffee if you liked our article!