Maybe it was when you were floating in the fresh turquoise waters, looking up at 165 ft. of vibrant vines, hanging from cenote walls against bright blue skies.
Or during that last bite of morning chillequeles, prepared by your in-house cocinera.
Maybe it happened during your massage, exhaling onto the white sand, underneath sun rays and palm tree sways, or maybe it wasn’t above the ground at all — but under the sea, swimming with the fish along the MesoAmerican reef.
Maybe it was while you laughed, stretched, let go, with strangers? friends? who knew anymore — on your private catamaran, or when you discovered land at a little island somewhere along the way.
Or just feet up in a hammock at the Villas, Aperol spritz in hand, because who really needs any more than that?
Whenever that moment hit, you knew this was how you wanted to spend your days off.