This is a resort straight out of a J.G. Ballard novel – with a gleaming, unnervingly linear glass structure surrounded by wild, rolling sands and with speeding white cloud overhead, it could easily double up as a space base in Doctor Who. There’s a wonderful feeling of light and space, and if the winds coming in from the Atlantic aren’t at gale force, days by the pool, drinking sparkling Portuguese rosé, pass blissfully – unless you’re unlucky and find yourself next to a blinged-up Muscovite who thinks it’s totally cool for her daughter to watch cartoons at full blast on her Hello Kitty-patterned, Swarovski-encrusted iPad. In which case, before you succumb to the urge to hurl them, and their lack of manners, and their awful Cavalli tat in the pool, move. There’s plenty of space. While hell is always other people, even somewhere as stark and lunar as this, the two most memorable elements of my time spent poolside at The Oitavos are the incredible sunburn I achieved in such a short space of time (the cooling wind is wickedly deceptive) and the fabulousness of the poolside parasols, which have the easiest-to-erect mechanism I’ve ever seen – other hotels take note, it is possible! For diversions, you can cycle through the UNESCO-protected sand dunes or along the coastline, head down to the beach and wind surf, or improve your handicap on the immense golf course that winds around the hotel and its ground. None of which I would ever be interested in. But it’s nice to know it’s there, isn’t it?
The Oitavos is like one immense First class – or perhaps spruced-up Business class – departure lounge
The hotel’s all-blue colour scheme is, apparently, based on a swatch taken from the owner’s favourite jumper. It’s a soft blue, bordering on pastel. At the same time, the glass and painted steel building is aggressively hard and modern, so the two elements clash and create a curious, nursery-modernism effect. It’s certainly striking and in a lot of ways, very beautiful, but it won’t be to everyone’s tastes: under different skies, it might look like a Milton Keynes business park. The volumes of the floors and rooms are vast – like the glossiest of new airport buildings. Mirrors and modern furniture abound and there are scores of curvy seven-foot light sculptures that look like a cross between a Noguchi Akari lantern and Barbapapa. The Oitavos is a weird place; its architect, José Anahory, was also its interior designer, and what he’s created is never anything less than visually arresting.
The reception and ground floor at The Oitavos is like one immense First class – or perhaps spruced-up Business class – departure lounge; open plan, surrounded by floor to ceiling glass, with a super-sleek long bar, TV areas and a monochrome pool table. At dinnertime, when the sky dims to the deepest and most intense Atlantic-blue, the resort’s design and colour scheme suddenly makes a lot more sense: The Oitavos is a giant glass box from which to enjoy the natural coastal surroundings.
Beds are huge and plush and the standard rooms are more like the larger suites in the upper echelons of less impressive hotels; each has two giant flat screen TVs, a lounge area and a bathtub with a great view. Each room also has a very sizeable balcony with a couch and chairs – great for intimate sundowners before some fine dining on particularly fresh and good seafood downstairs – with the largest balconies available in the five premium corner rooms. And every bathroom has a paperless Japanese bidet toilet, which is, as far as I’m concerned, the acme of desirable luxury.
While this is undeniably a family resort, the spa (with its own combined indoor hydrotherapy/swimming pool) is peaceful and for adults only. The sauna, with floor to ceiling glass that reveals a stretch of sand outside that’s more Paris Texas than Portugese coast, is an all-around sensual treat. Just outside, there’s an open-air café perfect for eating in nothing more than a sarong, although it’s worth heading inside and upstairs for a more extensive menu of seafood and tapas. There’s a casual bar/restaurant (the Ipsylon Lounge) as well as fine dining (the Ipsylon Restaurant) in this main building, separated by what feels like a large catwalk that runs the length of the whole, immense space. Given the style of the hotel as a whole, they should use it for Segway polo. There’s also a golf club nearby – reachable by buggy, and with a great café/restaurant for those, like me, for whom golfing is a bore – and a café by the spa. A menu is available pool-side. The fine-dining tasting menu is quite ambitious, and certainly has its moments of glory (particularly any fish served a la plancha). There’s enough variety on the Lounge menu to keep you on-site for a particularly long weekend. The sushi and small Portuguese plates of different meats and cheeses (including the breaded pork’s trotters) are delicious. It’s a shame that the unremitting 1980s Stevie Wonder and Wang Chung records on the sound system during my visit didn’t quite fit with The Oitavos atmosphere. But then, what would? Early Brian Eno perhaps? Perhaps. Similarly, I can’t help thinking how wonderful – and wonderfully weird it would be – to experience this vast, uncompromisingly modern, somewhat 70s redux and sometimes glacial resort all on my own. Very J.G. Ballard indeed.
The Oitavos, Rue de Oitavos, Quinta de Marinha, 2750-374 Cascais
+351 21 486 0020; theoitavos.com