Most visitors come to Cancún, Tulum, or Playa del Carmen with sunscreen in one hand and a cocktail in the other, not a clue that they’re quietly footing the bill for something far beyond their hotel stay. Nestled in fine print and whispered by receptionists, there’s a fee that’s been quietly growing for years. It’s called the Environmental Sanitation Fee, and while it sounds noble, its story is far more complicated than the name suggests.

Since 2019, travelers staying in the sun-drenched cities of Quintana Roo have been automatically charged this municipal fee for each night of their visit. It isn’t a federal tax, nor is it optional. It’s an obligatory contribution meant to support environmental programs in a region stretched thin by mass tourism.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: few know where the money actually goes.

What Is the Environmental Sanitation Fee, and Why Are You Paying It?

The fee was born out of a reasonable concern. As tourism boomed across the Riviera Maya, local services struggled to keep pace. In Cancún, the city government put it bluntly when they launched the initiative in 2019, stating that “the number of visitors and population growth exceed public services.” The logic was that each visitor should leave a small token to help protect the very environment they came to enjoy.

Initially, the fee was pegged at 30% of the UMA, Mexico’s Unit of Measurement and Update. That translated to about 25 pesos per night back in 2019. But by 2023, Cancún raised it to 70%, bumping the nightly rate to 73 pesos, and by 2024, it had increased slightly to 76 pesos per room per night.

Elsewhere in Quintana Roo, the formula varies. In Playa del Carmen and Tulum, for example, the fee is charged per guest rather than per room. The first person pays 30% of the UMA, the second pays 20%, the third 15%, and the fourth 10%. It’s a tiered system designed to reflect the environmental impact of larger groups.

By 2025, the standard fee in most municipalities remains at 30% of the UMA, roughly 34 pesos per night. That may seem manageable, ranging between 30 and 80 pesos nightly, or about $1.50 to $4 USD, depending on where and how you stay.

But the story doesn’t end there.

Many hotels, especially in Cancún, charge significantly more. Some have quietly folded the fee into resort charges or city taxes, bumping the nightly rate as high as $15 USD. Guests often assume it’s a standard hotel cost or confuse it with the separate Visitax imposed by the state for foreign tourists. In reality, these fees are very different. One is municipal and environmental. The other is state-level and designed to fund tourism promotion.

The problem is that most travelers never know what they’re paying for, or why.

The Green Promise Behind the Fee

In theory, this money is meant to do good. When the fee was introduced, city leaders said it would finance programs like beach cleanups, sargassum collection, wastewater treatment, mangrove and reef conservation, and energy-efficient upgrades, including LED public lighting.

It was pitched as a kind of social contract. Tourists enjoy the beaches and, in turn, help protect them. A few pesos per night, multiplied by millions of visitors, could fuel meaningful change.

And yet, the more closely one looks, the more that green promise begins to fade.

How the Fee Is Really Used Today

Over time, the use of the funds has expanded. The Quintana Roo Congress, along with municipal governments, has allowed the money to be used not just for environmental projects but also for broader urban infrastructure and public safety.

By 2024, Cancún formally allocated just 30% of the fee revenue to environmental programs. Sixteen percent went to public safety and civil protection, four percent to a police retirement fund, and the remaining 50% to public works like roads, drainage systems, and sidewalks.

So while visitors think they’re supporting sargassum removal or coral reef conservation, their money may actually be buying a new police cruiser or resurfacing a boulevard.

This repurposing has raised serious concerns about transparency, especially as the total amount collected has skyrocketed.

The Numbers Are Staggering

Despite its modest appearance, the sanitation fee generates an enormous amount of money thanks to the sheer volume of tourism. In 2019, Fitch Ratings projected that the main tourist destinations in Quintana Roo could collect between 878 million and 1.053 billion pesos annually.

Reality followed closely.

Cancún alone collected 150 million pesos in its first full year, surpassing the original 113 million peso estimate. In 2020, amid the pandemic, collections dipped to around 105 million. But by 2021, as tourism rebounded, revenue climbed to 180 million pesos, and by 2022, the city had reached 249 million pesos.

With the 2023 rate increase and the inclusion of vacation rentals like Airbnb and Booking.com, revenue surged. Hoteliers estimated that Cancún could bring in over 500 million pesos in 2023. That prediction turned out to be conservative.

In just the first five months of 2024, Cancún collected 332.9 million pesos. By year’s end, the figure reached 800 million pesos, exceeding the target by 100 million. When you add in collections from Playa del Carmen, Tulum, Cozumel, and other municipalities, statewide revenue likely exceeded 1.2 billion pesos in 2024, nearly reaching the upper limit forecasted by Fitch.

So Where Did the Money Go?

Technically, the funds don’t enter the general municipal budget. They’re held in special trusts, managed by technical committees that include government officials, hotel industry representatives, and supposedly, citizens.

These committees are supposed to approve projects, monitor spending, and report transparently to the public.

In practice, however, public information has been scarce or poorly communicated.

In 2022, the Hotel Association of the Riviera Maya and the Tulum Hotel Association filed a federal injunction demanding transparency. A judge ordered the mayor of Tulum to explain why the trust had never been set up and to disclose how the funds had been used.

Hoteliers had spent months asking the city how much had been collected, how it had been spent, and what environmental outcomes had been achieved. They received no answers.

This isn’t unique to Tulum. In other municipalities, hotel representatives complain of filthy beaches, broken streetlights, poor drainage, and no visible improvements, even as revenue climbs.

As Toni Chaves, president of the Riviera Maya Hotel Association, put it:
“If hotels collect and hand over this money, we demand to know if it is truly deposited in a special account and how it is being used. We don’t want it spent on other purposes unrelated to the environmental goal.”

Authorities in Cancún insist they’re using the funds correctly. A Citizen Oversight Committee was formed in January 2023. In January 2025, during the second session of the Benito Juárez Technical Committee, the city approved projects like road repaving in the hotel zone, purchasing maintenance machinery, enhancing tourism infrastructure, and modernizing public safety, including body cameras for police.

But so far, no detailed audits have been published. There’s little clarity on how much money went into each project or what impact it had.

Tourists Left in the Dark

Most travelers don’t know they’re paying this fee in the first place. Those who do often confuse it with other charges. There is no mandatory rule requiring hotels to inform guests, and few do so voluntarily.

Without clear communication, the Environmental Sanitation Fee is just one more unexpected line on a tourist’s bill. It lacks identity, context, and purpose in the eyes of the people funding it.

Hoteliers Push Back

Many hotel owners support the idea of the fee, but only if it works. When Cancún raised the rate to 70% of the UMA in 2023, the Hotel Association of Cancún, Puerto Morelos, and Isla Mujeres pushed back hard. They argued that doubling the cost without showing results would hurt both the industry and the environment.

They called on the state congress to reject the increase. Their effort failed.

Jesús Almaguer, president of the Cancún Hotel Association, pointed out that the city had already collected 250 million pesos in 2022 under the old rate. To aim for over 500 million the next year without transparency, he argued, was excessive.

Even lawmakers from the Green Party (PVEM) shrugged off concerns, stating that “no one cancels a vacation over 5 or 10 dollars.” That may be true. But in today’s competitive global market, even small charges can leave a lasting impression.

What Other Destinations Are Doing Differently

Quintana Roo isn’t the only place experimenting with tourism surcharges. In Los Cabos, a 35% UMA fee was introduced in 2022. By 2023, the city had collected around 100 million pesos, and the money has already funded real projects like street paving and a wastewater treatment plant.

In Puerto Vallarta, the Jalisco Congress approved a 141-peso tax per foreign visitor arriving in 2025. The difference is that both Los Cabos and Puerto Vallarta engaged in public debate, included private sector oversight, and implemented legal safeguards to ensure the funds are used correctly.

In contrast, Quintana Roo approved its fee with little resistance in 2018, and since then, accountability has largely depended on the persistence, and legal action, of the hotel industry.

The Paradox of the Sanitation Fee

Here’s the ultimate irony. The more tourists arrive, the more revenue the fee generates. But if the money isn’t used effectively, the environmental degradation continues, or worsens.

Tourism success should support environmental resilience, not undermine it. A fee like this could be transformative. It could tie economic growth to ecological preservation in a meaningful, measurable way.

But right now, for many in Quintana Roo, it feels more like a broken promise than a bold solution.

Until transparent audits are published, until citizens and tourists alike can see the beaches cleaned, the reefs restored, the systems improved, this fee will remain what it has become: a mystery charge disguised in green, quietly collecting millions while its purpose fades from view.

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