There are certain things pandemic babies unwittingly deprived us of. For my husband and me, it was the babymoon — a final blissful exhale before parenthood. Checking into Rosewood Mandarina, nearly five years and two babies later, on our first solo trip away from our littles, I declared it our post-baby moon.
Mexico’s Riviera Nayarit received us with open arms as we were whisked away in a sleek chauffeured SUV from the Puerto Vallarta airport, sipping passionfruit mineral water for our 45-minute trip north. Forested mountains and pineapple and mango fields skirted the highway, and I could feel the barren winter landscape of the Midwest slipping away beneath our wheels as we reached our secluded paradise.
Photography provided by Rosewood Mandarina
The recently opened 565-acre resort — which was named to the 2026 Travel + Leisure It List — is nestled into a dramatic stretch of the coastline where the Sierra Madre Occidental mountains fall into the Pacific. The lush, biodiverse landscape was filled with butterflies dipping into a kaleidoscope of blooms along the paths leading to our accommodations. Our Flatland Suite — replete with a private plunge pool, soaking tub, outdoor shower and expansive terrace — came with butler service. Here, we were greeted by an ambient chorus of birds (many of them endemic to the region) calling from the canopy in a steady song, soothing our low hum of stress. We relaxed into the evening in a dream state.
Breakfast on the beach at La Cocina was pure splendor — fresh tropical fruit platter and jugo verde in hand, housemade tortillas hot off the comal, our toes pressed into the warm sand, and the ocean stretching out endlessly ahead. Unhurried for a change, we indulged in a new cadence: hot coffee sipped slowly, conversation uninterrupted. We watched a hawk sweep down and pull a huge fish cleanly from the shallows — no one else around, no sound but the waves, nature simply doing what it has always done, unbothered by our presence.
What sets Mandarina apart is how deeply rooted it is in the natural environment. The resort’s 134 standalone suites and villas (cliffside, beachfront or jungle flatland) are connected by winding green paths, with seascape vistas at every turn. The design, food, rituals and spirit reflect the living cultures of the Wixárika and Cora peoples, who are Indigenous to this area.
A Hospitality Design Awards finalist, the interior design stewarded by Caroline Meersseman of Bando x Seidel Meersseman features custom-made Mexican touches throughout. Tile, wood and stone strike a balance between modern restraint and handcrafted warmth, layering knotted rope and Wixárika beadwork against clean lines. The serene Asaya Spa was constructed around two ancient parota trees. According to Wixárika tradition, their ear-shaped seedpods exist to listen. Whisper your troubles, and they carry them for you. Their presence is palpable.
Before my treatment, I chose to relax in the spa’s open-air lounge surrounded by tropical foliage. Butterflies and birds hummed with the ocean’s rhythm in the distance. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so still, immersed in a space devoid of human-derived sound — so healing in itself that the custom facial was simply the cherry on top.
Our evenings began at Barra Peñasco, a gorgeous all-wood bar suspended at cliff’s edge among ancient white fig trees. It made for the perfect perch to watch the sun sink into the sea. Bespoke cocktails were served in chic, locally made vessels I would have purchased on the spot. We dined farther up the mountain at Toppu, a refined Japanese concept restaurant led by chef Diego Muñoz complete with an open irori hearth and sushi counter. Course by course, each plate was considered and each pour intentional, making for a romantically magical evening you savor and attempt to memorize.
By day, the property invites equal parts movement and stillness in a five-star choose-your-own-adventure style. Enticing activities included zip-lining, surfing, tennis, world-class golf, hiking among the sacred trees, and of course beach and pool lounging. We opted for horseback riding from the polo fields through dense jungles, punctuated by bursts of pink bougainvillea and giant elephant ears, with mountains on one side and ocean on the other. It proved a peaceful moving meditation, even for those who haven’t recently ridden.
Afterward, while enjoying a poolside lunch of tacos with cocos fríos, we were graced with the sudden appearance of humpback whales breaching along the horizon line. We watched in awe as they surfaced and disappeared again into the vastness of the sea. I felt tears well in my eyes, overwhelmed by the beauty and the gratitude for the opportunity to be so present.
Perhaps that is Mandarina’s greatest gift: The resort reminds you that life, at its best, is unhurried and uncomplicated. That nature’s beauty is meant to be revered, not scrolled past. The warm bubble bath waiting in your suite at the end of a beautiful day is equivalent to a system reboot. A soak for the soul. A reminder that rest is not indulgent, but essential.
Our final afternoon, we wandered past the Explorers Club, a vibrant, thoughtfully designed space our littles would love. We looked at each other with the same thought: We need to bring them next time. We’d arrived in need of stillness and left sun-kissed and revived. A few days of quiet, fresh salt air and pampering doesn’t just restore you; it reshapes you into a better version of yourself. And a place like Rosewood Mandarina makes that truth impossible to forget.
