Puerto Morelos an idyllic alternative to Cancun

"You like my massage?" the sturdy Maya woman asked, exhausting her English vocabulary.

I reluctantly opened my eyes. Rain was still playing percussion on the palm-thatch roof, making the visible swatches of jungle greenery outside glisten and shiver.

I'd arrived at Puerto Morelos' Jungle Spa in the same downpour, frazzled after a five-hour drive. And I wasn't looking forward to getting back behind the wheel.

But when I sat up, I found that the healing hands had melted the tension in my aching muscles into liquid warmth, igniting the flare of well-being that flickered as soon as I reached the turnoff for Puerto Morelos, the only Riviera Maya town that has never disappointed me.

The Riviera Maya owes its existence to Cancun; its fishing villages were perfect respites from the high-rise luxury, crowded beaches, thumping discos and Las Vegas-by-the-Sea vibe. Not so long ago, Playa del Carmen was the refuge of choice, but now it's Mexico's fastest-growing city, less the anti-Cancun than the rival Cancun. Tulum's sublime beaches are lined cheek by jowl with thatch-roofed cabanas that charge $150 and (way) up for the privilege of doing without electricity and air conditioning. The isolated beaches hidden at the ends of dirt roads are shadowed now by fantastically expensive resorts.

Somehow Puerto Morelos, the Riviera Maya's gateway town, has escaped Cancunization. No building exceeds three stories. From launches lining the town beach, fishermen unload the catch destined to land a few hours later on your plate. The town square, lined with shops and restaurants, comes alive with a small fair every Sunday.

Just offshore, Puerto Morelos' section of the Great Mesoamerican Reef is protected as a national park, providing some of the best diving and snorkeling on the Caribbean coast.

Puerto Morelos does even the most traditional things in its own way. What else would you expect from a town whose defining landmark is a lighthouse that makes the pre-rehab Leaning Tower of Pisa look downright upright? After Hurricane Beulah did its best to topple the beacon in 1967, residents built a new lighthouse but refused to take down the old one.

The Riviera Maya is rife with chichi resort spas, but massages, wraps and manicures at the Jungle Spa are administered in simple buildings by Maya women who learned massage with their ABCs. Maya massage is intended not to pamper but to heal all manner of ailments, and the manipulation of internal body organs can be, well, uncomfortable for gringo bodies. Under the tutelage of Sandra Dayton, who has lived in Puerto Morelos for 17 years and founded the Lu'um K'aa Nab nonprofit to create ways for local women to earn a living, they have learned to incorporate other types of massage to work their magic vigorously but painlessly. And they charge about one-third of what hotel spas do.

Parks offering zip lines, cenotes and entertainment - spawn of the overwhelming, Disneyesque Xcaret - multiply like bunnies up and down the coast. Puerto Morelos has Crococun.

It looks just as much like a 1950s Florida roadside attraction as it sounds. A crocodile farm turned interactive zoo, it has been instrumental in replenishing the toothy reptiles' population in Cancun's Nichupte Lagoon. Even more to the point, Crococun is a thoroughly disarming collection of most of the reptiles and some of the mammals indigenous to the Yucatan. It's your best chance to hold a baby crocodile, pet a fat iguana, wind a boa around your shoulders or serve as a landing zone for bounding spider monkeys. Tickets aren't cheap, but they include a private tour with one of the knowledgeable and dedicated veterinary students who volunteer there.