Septiembre Arquitectura Expands an Off-Grid Getaway on Oaxaca’s Pacific Coast
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A guest bungalow at Cocolia Hotel in Mazunte, Oaxaca, Mexico.
Architects & Firms
As one of a string of sleepy, ocean–hugging communities dotting Oaxaca, Mexico’s Costa Chica (“small coast”), the village of Mazunte has managed to evade the overtourism and unchecked development that has befallen some of its previously laid-back neighbors. The legendary surf haven of Puerto Escondido, for example, has seen some of its bohemian appeal diluted by rapid growth coming out of the Covid-19 pandemic. Located roughly an hour south of Puerto Escondido near Playa Zipolite, Mazunte, once an epicenter for the sea turtle meat trade and now a national center for sea turtle conservation, is popular with ecotourists and enlightenment-seeking yogis, whose presence helps to keep the community’s reputation as a far-flung hippie beach town alive. A strict village building code dictating that any new structures must be built in the vernacular style with natural materials had aided tiny Mazunte in preserving its unsullied charm.
Thatched roofs shelter a swimming pool, featuring an adjacent mezcalería, and a nearby pavilion dedicated to yoga and welness activities. Photo by Fernando Marroquín
A second pool, hidden away in the jungle, was added as part of the hotel expansion. Photo by Fernando Marroquín
Mazunte, however, isn’t completely frozen in time. One new-ish arrival is Cocolia Hotel, which first opened in December 2018 as a quaint, nine-cabin outpost focused largely on hosting yoga retreats. The property recently underwent a significant expansion, completed this past October, to help broaden its appeal as a “sanctuary between the jungle and the sea.”
Today, Cocolia features 28-guest bungalows (seven of them double-stacked units) embedded among dense tropical foliage, a pair of saltwater pools, a restaurant, a mezcal bar, and a traditional, palm thatched-roofed palapa dedicated to yoga, meditation, and quiet contemplation. The compound, which overlooks Punta Cometa, is entirely off grid, powered by three on-site solar arrays and employing extensive rainwater collection and greywater systems. To that end, there is no air conditioning throughout the property, which has been “a big challenge” according to Damian Figueras, project architect and co-founder of Septiembre Arquitectura, a practice established in 2012 with offices in Barcelona and Mexico City.
The strategically positioned cabins are designed to maximize privacy and views. Photo by Fernando Marroquín
“We've had endless discussions about putting or not putting in air conditioning—we're really against it in a way, but it does cut down some income,” says Barcelona-born Figueras, who worked with Foreign Office Architects after graduating from London’s Architectural Association. He next moved to Mexico City to join Tatiana Bilbao Estudio during that firm’s early years.
High ceilings and fans help keep temperatures inside the 538-square-foot guest rooms tolerable. They are largely open to take advantage of prevailing sea breezes. “The rooms are protected by big mosquito nets, and you can control everything from inside your net,” adds Figueras. “You feel quite safe in that sense, even though everything is really open.”
The bungalows are partially open to take advantage of views and breezes. Photo by Fernando Marroquín
The guest cabins incorporate local brick, stone, and wood. Photo by Fernando Marroquín
An outdoor shower with an ocean view. Photo by Fernando Marroquín
Air conditioning isn’t the only thing that Cocolia uniquely lacks. The hotel, perched on a steep hillside amid a tropical dry forest that instantly becomes lush during the wet season, is on land “lent” by a community partnership. “It’s like its own little, self-run government,” he says of the arrangement. “There’s no owner and no title.” (Other projects in Septiembre Arquitectura’s portfolio—a mix of restaurants, houses, apartment renovations, and the 2024 museum expansion of Casa Amatller on Barcelona’s famed Illa de la Discòrdia—are decidedly more conventional commissions.)
Cacao, the hotel restaurant, serves Oaxacan specialities and fresh seafood. Photo by Fernando Marroquín
Due to the secluded site’s sensitive ecosystem and difficult terrain, large machinery was avoided, and all materials were brought in by hand. The site plan was dictated by the topography; individual bungalows are spread throughout the resort so that they have little impact on the ground while also having privacy relative to each other. The established walkways weaving throughout the property were formed by the natural circulation paths created by construction workers—some of whom have stayed on to become hotel staffers—when they first began working in the undisturbed jungle.
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The materials used to construct the guest rooms—the two-story stacked cabins occupy the same-sized footprint as the single-level ones—included locally quarried stone, bricks made from compacted earth taken from the site and fired in a nearby town, red cedar, and local guanacaste, an exotic hardwood. The modest, concrete-framed structures are defined by their clean, geometric forms that provide a dramatic contract to the wilderness that envelopes them. “We know it’s not the most sustainable element, but we use it alongside natural building materials,” says Figueras of the concrete. In addition to adding a new restaurant, larger second pool, and 19 new guest rooms, the original cabins were also upgraded as part of the recent expansion.
The terraced pool area features shared spaces for socializing, unwidning and taking in the views. Photo by Fernando Marroquín
While Cocolia’s rugged site and what Figueras calls “barefoot architecture” suggests a certain “roughing it,” the hotel does offer modern creature comforts such as Wi-Fi. This was another point of contention amongst the team that, unlike air condition, was ultimately green-lit. Many guests, he says, initially sign on shortly after arriving but ultimately log off for the duration of their stays after absorbing the natural beauty and languorous pace of Mazunte.
Photo by Fernando Marroquín
“The people that come here are often looking to disconnect,” says Figueras of the niche clientele that the hotel has attracted. “Others didn't know they wanted to unplug until they actually unplug—and then they want to stay unplugged.”
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