My Honeymoon Shortlist: Four Places, No Decision

Here is the thing nobody warned me about, amiga: the honeymoon is the one part of this entire production where everyone — Renata, my madrina, my mother, Mateo — looks at me with soft eyes and says, "take your time, no hay prisa." No rush. And after months of 47 emails and six spreadsheets just to get a venue deposit submitted, I thought that would feel like relief. Instead, it feels like standing in front of a really beautiful menu in a restaurant where you're also a little too hungry and nothing is wrong exactly, pero tampoco puedes decidir nada. Nothing is wrong. I just cannot choose.

Mateo, for his part, is absolutely zero help in the most charming way possible. He designs boutique hotels for a living — the man has opinions about grout lines and pillow loft and the precise angle of a poolside daybed — and yet when I send him a mood board for Kyoto versus the Amalfi Coast at 11 p.m. on a Tuesday, his response is, "both look incredible, cariño, you decide." ¡Increíble! I am marrying someone who is professionally passionate about hospitality and personally committed to radical neutrality on our own honeymoon. De verdad, the irony is not lost on me.

So here we are: fall 2027 wedding locked in for the Riviera Maya, venue shortlist still very much a living document, dress situation in its own delicious chaos — and the honeymoon? Four destinations on a list that has not shrunk by a single option in three months. What follows is my honest, slightly obsessive breakdown of all four contenders, because if I am going to be indecisive, I might as well be indecisive in public.

The Four Contenders and Why Each One Refuses to Lose

Let me introduce the four places currently living rent-free in my head — which, yes, is a phrase I've also used recently about two specific wedding dresses, and I'm starting to think my brain just has a very generous rental market. The shortlist, in the order they appeared on my radar, not in any kind of ranked order because ranking them is exactly what I cannot do:

Kyoto in cherry blossom season. I know, I know — todo el mundo goes to Kyoto. But hear me out: I've been building a case for a ryokan honeymoon for almost a year now, specifically a small, traditional inn in the Higashiyama district where you eat kaiseki in your room and the garden is basically a living painting. I've found two properties in the ¥85,000–¥110,000 per night range (roughly $530–$680 USD) that have the exact quiet, unhurried energy I want for the week after what will presumably be the most logistically complicated event of my vida. The sakura window is narrow — late March to mid-April — which means if we go this route, we're booking around a very specific calendar, not just a vibe. Mateo said it looked "tranquilo." High praise from him, honestly.

The Amalfi Coast, specifically Positano. This one is entirely my madrina's fault. She sent me a single photo of a cliffside terrace at a small hotel in Positano — not a famous one, a family-run property with maybe fourteen rooms — and I have thought about it approximately every other day since. Rates for a sea-view suite in October run around €680–€850 per night, which is, as Mateo gently noted, "a lot per night, mi amor." Yes. It is. ¡Qué caro! And yet the light in that photo. The light.

Morocco — specifically Marrakech into the Atlas Mountains. This one is the most "us," honestly. Mateo has been pushing for it since before we were even engaged, and given that he spent two years consulting on a riad renovation in the medina, he has actual contacts there, which means we'd get access to properties that don't show up on the standard booking platforms. A private riad in the medina for three nights, then a small eco-lodge in the foothills of the Atlas for four — the whole trip could land around $4,200–$5,000 all-in, which is genuinely the most budget-friendly option on this list. The catch: I am not sure my post-wedding brain wants to navigate a medina. I want that to be a real trip, not a survival exercise while still emotionally recovering from seating charts.

The Greek islands — Milos specifically, not Santorini. I made a rule early in this process: no Santorini. Not because it isn't beautiful — es precioso, obviously — but because I have posted about Santorini on luxesofia three times and I cannot honeymoon somewhere I've already content-batched. Milos, though. The volcanic beaches, the pastel fishing village of Klima with those little boathouse doors painted in faded colors, the fact that it is genuinely less crowded than its neighbors. A small boutique property there runs about €420–€550 per night in late September, and the whole island has a kind of worn-in, unhurried beauty that feels right for the week after a wedding. Less "look at us" and more "finally, just us."

The Real Criteria I'm Using (Even If I Haven't Admitted Them Out Loud Until Now)

Amiga, here is where I have to be honest with myself — and with you, since you're here. The beautiful mood boards are not actually how I'm making this decision. Underneath all the ryokan photos and cliffside terrace screenshots, there are four criteria that are doing the real work, and la verdad, they are a lot less aesthetic than my Instagram saves would suggest.

Flight time from the Riviera Maya. Our wedding is in the Tulum area, and I refuse to spend the first full day of my honeymoon in an airport. Kyoto from Cancún is brutal — we're talking a connection through either Mexico City or Houston, then a transpacific flight, minimum 22–24 hours door-to-door. Morocco is surprisingly manageable: Casablanca or Marrakech via Madrid, roughly 14–16 hours total. Greece and Italy are similar — 13–15 hours with a European connection. This matters more to me than I expected it to, especially since, if the venue situation goes the way I think it will, we'll have had ninety guests at a multi-day resort wedding. I will be exhausted. Mateo will be serene, porque así es él. But I will be exhausted.

How it photographs vs. how it actually feels. De verdad, this is the tension that runs through everything I plan, and the honeymoon is where I'm trying hardest to let the feeling win. Positano is the most photogenic thing on this list by a significant margin. It is also the most crowded in the shoulder season, the most logistically complicated (boats and steep stairs everywhere), and the most likely to produce a beautiful grid and an exhausted bride. Milos photographs less dramatically but would probably feel the most like rest. I have been in enough beautiful places to know that "looks incredible" and "feels incredible" are not always the same coordinates, y eso es importante.

Mateo's actual expertise versus his fake neutrality. Here is what I've learned about my fiancé: when he says "wherever you want, cariño," what he means is he has already quietly ruled out two options and is waiting for me to arrive at the same conclusion on my own timeline. He does this with everything — hotel design, restaurant reservations, paint colors for our apartment. So I've started watching for the tells. He lights up when I mention Morocco. He asks follow-up questions about specific riads. He has never once asked a follow-up question about Positano. This is data, ¿no? This is a man communicating in subtext, and I am a woman who has interviewed enough boutique hotel owners to read a room.

The budget reality check. ¡Ay! Here it is. The honest number. We have a rough honeymoon budget of $12,000–$14,000 USD, which sounds generous until you remember that it has to cover flights for two from Mexico, accommodation for seven nights, food, activities, and the inevitable "we're on our honeymoon" upgrades that happen the moment you mention it at check-in. Kyoto at those ryokan rates plus transpacific flights pushes close to $14,000 at the high end. Morocco comes in at the low end, around $8,500–$10,000 all-in, which would feel like a win except that I keep looking at that Positano terrace photo. Greece sits comfortably in the middle. The spreadsheet says Morocco. My madrina says Positano. Mateo says nothing, but he just sent me a link to a riad with a rooftop plunge pool, so.

Why I'm Not Deciding Yet (And Why That's Actually Fine)

Everyone involved in this wedding has an opinion about when I should book the honeymoon. Renata, my wedding planner, wants it locked before we finalize the venue contract — she says it affects the overall timeline and travel logistics for guests flying in internationally. My mother thinks I should wait until the dress is decided, as if those two things are cosmically linked. My madrina, who has self-appointed herself into at least three planning jobs nobody assigned her, sent me a 14-item pros-and-cons list for Positano that was genuinely more detailed than some vendor proposals I've received. ¡Increíble, de verdad!

But here is what I keep coming back to, cariño: the honeymoon is the one item on this entire planning list that does not have a hard external deadline yet. The venue decision has a deadline because deposit windows close. The dress has a deadline because production and alterations take eight to ten months. The honeymoon — especially since we're targeting late October or early November 2027, well after peak season for most of these destinations — has a softer timeline. Boutique properties at that price point do book up, but we're not talking about a single-night Santorini villa in July. We have a little room.

And la verdad is that I think I'm waiting because this is the one decision where I actually want Mateo to weigh in — really weigh in, not just send me a riad link and smile. This whole wedding has been a lesson in the gap between what looks beautiful from the outside and what actually matters once you're standing inside it. I've been learning that lesson with venues, with flowers, with paper goods from a letterpress studio in Oaxaca, with the question of whether a cathedral-length veil is worth not being able to see your own ceremony. The honeymoon is where I want to get the answer right, not just get the answer fast. So for now: four places, zero decisions, and one very patient spreadsheet waiting for me to make up my mind.

I'll keep you posted, amiga. Probably via another spreadsheet.

Bride in progress, amor en construcción.
— Sofía

Bride in progress, amor en construcción.
— Sofía