Blue sky thinking | Review: The Residence Mauritius

Living the life of a travel writer can be (to quote the bad ones) “idyllic”, the “stuff of dreams”, and “picture-postcard perfect”. Downsides are few: occasional jet lag; no plus one to share lie-ins in fancy bed linen; and precious PR people moaning about coverage. However, there is one thing that can truly break the spirit: landing on a tropical island beneath fat plops of rain, when the purpose of the trip is to dive onto a sun lounger and ponder unique ways to describe turquoise waters and white sands. But when the sky, sea and air are as grey as a smoker’s lungs, and the edge of one blurs into another, there is nothing to do but head to the spa or read a book, both of which I could do at home.

The sea thrashed and trees braced themselves against the wind, their backs bent by gusts that rocked the car. My sun hat sat dormant on my lap

So when the plane swayed into Seewoosagur Ramgoolam International Airport in Mauritius and touched down in what could have been Cumbria in November, a tiny part of me died. As the taxi clung to the curves of the coastal highway, I clung to my cardigan and wondered whether layering summer dresses would suffice. The sea thrashed and trees braced themselves against the wind, their backs bent by gusts that rocked the car. My sun hat sat dormant on my lap. “It’s our winter”, reminded the driver. But tropical islands specialise in testing your patience and screwing with your nerves, and as fast as the rain came down, the sky cracked into patches of blue and by the time we drew up to the Residence one hour later, the wind was breeze, the rain a distant memory and the clouds had pulled apart into fluff.

Inspired by turn-of-the-century colonial mansions, the Residence is all Parthenon-style columns and teak. It’s the sort of place that makes you want to wear linen every day to blend in with the breeze, wooden shutters and gold-tipped ceiling fans. Walls are hung with sepia-tinted photographs, and the roof soars to a criss-cross of old beams, much like an ancient ship. Everything is open-plan, airy and bright with little birds hopping around the foyer or pecking at your pizza crusts. This was all in sharp contrast to the horrors that awaited us the following week at a hotel further down the coast: aqua-aerobics in the pool; lobster-red mums on vodka at breakfast; and the roar of international flights taking off every fifteen minutes. Had we known we would have extended our stay at the Residence instead of subjecting ourselves to what amounted to little more than a giant cruise-ship nightmare.

But here, hemmed in by a crescent moon of sand that melts into the water by noon the Residence is free from the drone of water skis and banana boats and only the occasional kite surfer can be seen bobbing in the distance. After a breakfast of everything from plump American pancakes and maple syrup to French crepes and bacon, to green chilli and cheese omelettes, there really is nothing better than reading by the adults-only swimming pool or dozing on a lounger at the edge of the sea. There is no one but the occasional tout with sarongs and a tangle of puppies loitering for titbits, and most of the day is punctuated by reapplying sun cream and working out what to eat next. Kids are almost invisible here and those who do come with parents have neatly tied braids, play with their dolls at dinner and eat quietly.

If you leave your pants on top of the laundry basket your butler will whip them away, wash and iron them and leave them pressed on the bed with a bill

The Residence has certainly tapped into the mindset of the modern-day eco-traveller – the one who will gladly stamp a 6,000-mile carbon footprint to get here but want organic yoghurt and dates for breakfast – and has shipped in its teak from Asia to avoid further devastation of local forests. During harvest time there are organised visits to a local sugar mill – still Mauritius’s main source of income – so guests can witness the full wheel of production from the cane to the table. Rooms have water-conservation reminders and towels are replaced only if you ask – but a word of warning, if you leave your pants on top of the laundry basket your butler will whip them away, wash and iron them and leave them pressed on the bed with a bill. This happened three nights in a row before we twigged.

The only niggle here was the food which ranged from roast lamb and potatoes in the main restaurant to more Indian and Chinese fusion Mauritian food at the beachside candlelit Plantation restaurant – there just wasn’t enough variety of the latter. My hopes were raised one evening at the seafood buffet, but it amounted to little more than a few hunks of chargrilled squid on skewers and heaps of ratatouille and lasagna. A few crabs and lobsters would have been nice: the one shrimp main I tried was so plucked-from-the-net fresh and fused with grated ginger and garlic that I could have eaten another six plates. However the general manager explained that new chefs were being brought in from the Oberoi Rajvilas in Rajasthan, the original stomping ground of Cinnamon Club’s Vivek Singh, so I suspect the dining will go up a gear. And once it does, I’ll don my sun hat and board the first flight back. C

The Residence by Cenizaro, Coastal Road, Mauritius
+230 401 8888; cenizaro.com/theresidence