My Heart, in the Shape of a Flamingo

I signed up for a group tour to see the wild flamingos near Celestún. It felt symbolic. A quiet act of devotion. A reminder that love can be something you give yourself.

The Morning Walk

I do not have a car here, so I woke up early and walked through the soft morning light to meet the tour van. I was the last stop. When the door slid open, it was already full. That slightly awkward moment when all eyes turn toward you and you scan for where you will fit.

The only open space was in the very back, squeezed beside an older couple visiting from outside Mexico City. The gentleman was originally from New York City. He had married a Mexican woman years ago and now lived here. They were in Mérida celebrating Valentine’s Day.

As the van hummed along, I took in the mix of us. There was a Canadian family with two small children who were Ukrainian. Ram, a retired tech professional from San Francisco. Ana, a young Mexican woman from the north. Margaret, an Irish woman newly retired from television journalism. Martin a German man there on holiday. A collection of strangers, all orbiting the same idea for the day. Go see something beautiful.

The Gentle Awkwardness of New Connections

This was my second group tour since arriving, and I am starting to notice a pattern. At first, there is that soft social stiffness. Polite smiles. Tentative small talk. But then something shifts. You gravitate toward certain people. Conversations deepen. Shared wonder becomes glue.

There is something about being in vacation mode, about being in a new place, that softens people. We loosen our armor. We allow ourselves to be curious. It reminded me how easy connection can be when we let it.

 

Celestún: A Small Fishing Town and a Great Natural Wonder

Celestún is a small fishing town on the Gulf Coast of the Yucatán Peninsula. Much of its rhythm revolves around the water. Fishermen. Boats. Salt air. It is also the gateway to the Celestún Biosphere Reserve, a protected area of wetlands and mangroves known for its extraordinary birdlife. Most of the boat captains cater to visitors like me who come for one reason. To witness the flamingos.

We climbed into long narrow boats and began gliding through the reserve. Before we ever reached the flamingos, the landscape itself felt otherworldly. We passed through towering mangroves, the largest I have ever seen. Their roots twisted into the water like living sculptures, creating tunnels of green that filtered the light into something almost sacred.

 

 

 

 

 

At one point, our guide cut the engine and pointed quietly toward the bank. A crocodile rested along the edge of the water, still and prehistoric, blending so perfectly into its surroundings that I would have missed it without his guidance. There was something humbling about seeing it in its own environment, not behind glass or at a distance, but simply existing.

 

 

We also stopped at a natural spring tucked within the mangroves. The water shifted to a clearer, softer blue, bubbling up from underground. It felt like a hidden secret, this pocket of cool clarity inside the dense green.

As we moved deeper into the mangroves, I noticed enormous termite nests clinging to the trunks and branches above us. They looked like sculptural forms, almost architectural. Nature building quietly and persistently, layer by layer.

 

 

Our guide carefully tempered expectations about the flamingos. He stressed that he could not promise we would see anything. Maybe one. Maybe four.

Thousands of Wings

Instead, we were surrounded. Thousands upon thousands of flamingos.

My videos will never capture the sound. A low, collective murmur layered over the gentle slap of water against the boat. Pink in every direction. Long legs like calligraphy strokes. Necks curving into impossible question marks and soft hearts.

Watching them move together felt like witnessing one of the wonders of the world.

 

 

I was in love.

Not the kind of love that needs a witness or a declaration, but the kind that rises in your chest when you realize how miraculous this world is. The kind that silences you.

There was something about being surrounded by that much life that made my own feel both tiny and enormous at the same time.

Awe as an Act of Self-Love

Choosing this trip on Valentine’s Day felt symbolic, but standing there among thousands of flamingos, I understood something deeper.

 

 

Self-love sometimes means waking up early. Walking alone. Saying yes to an awkward van ride. Letting yourself be surrounded by strangers. Letting yourself be stunned by beauty.

It is allowing awe to crack you open.

On the ride back, we were no longer strangers. Conversations flowed more easily. We shared photos. We laughed. We reflected. There is something about witnessing wonder together that binds people, even briefly.

I went to see flamingos. I came back reminded of how easy it is to soften. Into connection. Into beauty. Into love.

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