'Welcome to paradise'
Much ado about doing nothing -- West Indies island resort lets pampered guests slow down for sun, sea, sand and sky
Italians call it il dolce far niente, or the sweet art of doing nothing.
I'm terrible at it. When I travel, the day starts early, ends late and consists of a bathroom-breaks-are-for-wimps kind of itinerary that led one former travel companion to dub our trip a "death march." That's a bit harsh, but I'll admit I often come back from vacation more exhausted than when I left.
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Where: American Airlines has regular flights to Antigua, where you'll take a short, private cruise to Long Island, home of Jumby Bay.
When: Rates are lowest from June 1 to Oct. 31, starting at $775 a night per couple, including food and beverages. That same room goes for $1,250 until March 31, dropping to $925 April 1. Children between the ages of 2 and 12 are charged $75 to $150 a night.
Turtle season, from July through November, is a great time to visit. Huge hawksbill turtles come ashore at night to lay their eggs. The island's turtle researchers will call your room to let you know when the turtles are nesting if you want to witness the spectacle.
How: Call (888) 767-3966 or visit Rosewoodhotels.com.
I was determined to try this whole "relaxation" thing everyone raves about during a recent visit to Jumby Bay, a Rosewood Resort off the coast of Antigua.
The 40-room, 12-villa compound sits on a private island in the West Indies, sandwiched between the Caribbean and the Atlantic. The 300-acre island is one-third resort, one-third nature reserve and one-third mansions of people whose monthly interest on their checking account eclipses my annual salary.
At Jumby Bay, there would be no museums or markets begging me to explore. No array of restaurants I'd have to whittle down. Anything like that was on the mainland of Antigua, where our plane landed. As soon as we grabbed our bags, we were escorted to a catamaran for a two-mile boat ride to Jumby Bay.
As we zoomed toward our island and the bright lights of Antigua grew dimmer, I caught myself plotting out when would be the best time to head back to the mainland for a little sightseeing. So much for relaxing.
"Welcome to paradise," said the man waiting for us on Jumby Bay's dock.
The night sky made it impossible to see much, so I'd have to take his word for it. Another man in a tiny golf cart -- no cars on the island -- whisked us to our room, a colonial-meets-Caribbean high-ceilinged suite with an outdoor shower and a patio facing the ocean.
Like most hotel rooms, ours had a binder listing things to see and do. I couldn't resist flipping through the pages, searching for stuff that would keep my mind and feet busy. I was like a desperate alcoholic, turning the house upside-down for a mini-bottle of airline liquor.
The next morning, the sun was on its best behavior and I got to see what paradise looked like. The guy on the dock wasn't kidding.
"Isn't this a screen saver?" my husband asked, as we admired the perfect white-sand beach, where palm trees outnumbered people 50 to one. A big plus to being on a private island in the Caribbean is the lack of crowds -- and vendors hawking bad souvenirs. At Jumby Bay, the only staffer strolling the beach is the sorbet butler, who scoops out the complimentary cool treat to overheated sunbathers. Another plus to being on a private island: You don't get a room key at check-in because there's no need to lock your door.
Between the sky, water and vegetation, Jumby Bay had every shade of blue and green covered, plus a few bright bursts of fuchsia from the bougainvillaea. Starfish the size of dinner plates rested in the warm, clear water. No car horns. No L trains. Just birds chirping and tides shifting.
There's only one place to eat breakfast and lunch at Jumby Bay, so that decision was easy. It's an all-inclusive resort, so your meals and cocktails are built into the price, which is hefty. Nightly rates in 2008 start at $775 a room, based on double occupancy. Paradise doesn't come cheap.
We waited for breakfast at our outdoor table, sipping our fresh-squeezed passion fruit juice and feeling our brains downshift from hectic city life to slow-motion island pace.
I snapped out of my trance to hear someone say, "Let's just hang out at the beach today." I realized it was my voice.
I wasn't a complete slug for the next three days, but I came pretty close. I passed up a snorkeling excursion. I didn't set foot in the fitness room and I didn't fire up the laptop once. I could see Antigua from my beach cabana, but it might as well have been Tokyo. I wasn't going anywhere. Apparently, I wasn't alone.
"Ninety-five percent of our guests don't leave the resort," said Carlos Salazar, general manager.
Claimed by the British in 1632, the island is a bit like England with great weather. Each afternoon, high tea is served in the former plantation house, which overlooks a massive croquet lawn. A refined, genteel air underlies the laid-back Caribbean vibe.
This isn't where you come to get wasted on rum and make a fool of yourself to the sounds of a steel drum. By 10 p.m., Jumby Bay gets pretty quiet. And if the moon cooperates, it gets pretty dark, too. We spotted four shooting stars and saw the international space station sail overhead.
We happened to be visiting as the resort was launching a star-gazing program. As many as six guests can sit on lounge chairs on the beach after dinner, enjoying champagne and cheese while an amateur astronomer points out Mars, Cassiopeia, the Orion Nebula and Andromeda. It was pretty much the exact opposite of a death march.
The next morning, it was time to leave. As I walked down the dock to board the boat, I left Jumby Bay tan, relaxed and a little bit better at il dolce far niente.