Tulum has become shorthand for a certain kind of boho-luxe aesthetic: macramé hangings, Edison bulbs, and cenote-side yoga at dawn. Most properties there are performing this script with varying degrees of success. Azulik wrote the script. Then it threw the script away and created something that defies easy categorization, a resort that feels less built than grown, as though the jungle itself decided to create architecture.
The structures here curve and flow like living organisms. There are no straight lines, no right angles, no concessions to conventional building logic. Instead, organic forms crafted from Bejuco vine wind through the canopy, creating walkways, rooms, and gathering spaces that seem to have emerged through some accelerated evolutionary process. The wood remains largely untreated, weathering naturally into shades of silver and amber. The effect is simultaneously primitive and sophisticated, earthy and ethereal.
This is adults-only territory, which the resort embraces fully. No children means no compromises, allowing Azulik to lean into its conceptual purity without worrying about sharp corners or kid-friendly amenities. The result feels distinctly grown-up, a space designed for people who want to reconnect with something primal without sacrificing refinement.
Your villa perches in the jungle canopy overlooking the Caribbean, accessible via winding pathways that feel more like game trails than hotel corridors. Inside, the space continues the organic narrative. Handcrafted furniture sculpted from local wood. Netting woven from natural fibers forming ethereal bed canopies. Bathtubs carved from single pieces of stone. Everything curves, flows, breathes.
Here’s where Azulik makes its boldest statement: no electricity in the villas. No outlets, no light switches, no air conditioning, no television. Just candles, oil lamps, and the ambient sounds of jungle meeting ocean. Before you recoil, understand that this isn’t deprivation but liberation. The absence of screens and switches creates space for something increasingly rare in modern life: actual presence.
The lack of air conditioning might sound daunting until you experience how the architecture itself creates airflow. Those organic curves aren’t just aesthetic; they’re functional, channeling breezes through the space. Ceiling fans powered by the resort’s central solar system keep air moving. The elevation in the canopy means you’re above the jungle floor’s stillness. And honestly, you adjust within hours, your body remembering how to exist without climate control’s artificial perfection.
Bathrooms deserve special mention. Many villas feature outdoor showers and tubs positioned for complete privacy yet open to sky and canopy. You’ll bathe surrounded by jungle sounds, watching stars emerge overhead, occasionally glimpsing wildlife moving through the branches. It’s sensual in the truest sense, engaging all your senses in ways that marble-clad hotel bathrooms simply cannot.
The beach below is quintessential Caribbean: powder-soft white sand, water cycling through impossible shades of turquoise, the kind of setting that looks filtered even when it’s not. But Azulik’s beach experience differs from the typical resort approach. No rows of loungers. No beach bars blasting music. Just natural settings with thatched palapas, hammocks strung between palms, and the option to be as social or solitary as you choose.
Dining at Azulik transcends the standard resort restaurant experience. Kin Toh, the property’s signature venue, occupies a series of nest-like structures suspended in the jungle canopy. Tables perch on different levels, some intimately small, others communal. The cuisine fuses Mayan ingredients with contemporary technique, creating dishes that feel rooted in place yet globally informed. Expect locally caught fish, vegetables from nearby farms, and preparations that honor indigenous traditions while pushing culinary boundaries.
The resort’s spa, Maya, continues the organic architecture theme with treatment rooms that blur the line between interior and exterior. Therapies incorporate Mayan healing traditions: temazcal ceremonies in traditional sweat lodges, massages using local plants and oils, sound healing with ancient instruments. These aren’t spa treatments rebranded as “indigenous”; they’re actual practices maintained and shared by local practitioners.
Azulik recently expanded its vision with Azulik Uh May, an art space and accommodation annex in the jungle interior. This new property pushes the architectural concepts even further, creating spaces that feel like discovering a lost civilization that somehow achieved sustainable luxury centuries ahead of its time. The museum component showcases contemporary art in settings so extraordinary they compete with the works themselves for attention.
Now, let’s address the elephant in the palapa: Tulum has changed. The bohemian beach town that once attracted intrepid travelers has become a global hotspot, with traffic, development, and all the complications that come with being discovered. Azulik opened before the tsunami of popularity hit, and while it can’t escape Tulum’s broader transformation, it has maintained its integrity better than most. The property remains genuinely off-grid, genuinely committed to its architectural philosophy, genuinely focused on creating experiences that prioritize depth over convenience.
This isn’t for everyone. If you need constant connectivity, perfect climate control, and the reassurance of conventional luxury, Azulik will frustrate you. But if you’re ready to trade those certainties for something more unusual, more visceral, more connected to place, it delivers an experience that few properties anywhere can match.
The target audience here understands that luxury sometimes means doing without, that removing distractions can be the ultimate indulgence. They’ve stayed at enough five-star hotels to know that thread counts and minibar selections don’t create memorable experiences. They’re seeking what Azulik offers: a chance to exist differently for a few days, to remember what it feels like when your circadian rhythm syncs with actual sunset rather than screen time, when the jungle’s ambient soundtrack replaces notification pings.
You’ll leave with photographs that look impossibly beautiful and slightly unreal, as though you’ve discovered some secret realm that couldn’t possibly exist in our documented, mapped, reviewed world. You’ll also leave with the memory of candlelit dinners in tree canopies, of sleeping beneath mosquito netting while the Caribbean murmurs below, of bathing under stars in a tub carved from stone. These experiences adhere to you in ways that standard luxury simply doesn’t.
Azulik represents a particular vision of what sustainable luxury can mean when taken to its logical conclusion. Not solar panels on a conventional resort but architecture that grows from environmental philosophy. Not eco-friendly amenities but the elimination of amenities in favor of direct experience. Not greenwashing but genuine commitment, even when that commitment creates friction with guest expectations.
This is Tulum for people ready to experience the place beyond the Instagram facade, who want the real bohemian luxury that the town’s marketing promises but rarely delivers. Who understand that the most memorable stays often happen when you surrender control and let a place work its particular magic on you.
The Details:
- Adults-only eco resort
- Villas built from Bejuco vine and natural materials
- No electricity in accommodations (candlelit)
- Off-grid operation with solar power
- Caribbean beachfront location
- Kin Toh restaurant in jungle canopy
- Maya spa with traditional Mayan treatments
- Azulik Uh May art space and expansion
- Natural ventilation and organic architecture throughout
