Feb 1, 2004
By Thom
There is more than enough room on the king-sized bed in my garden bungalow at the Hotel Isle de France to unpack my beach bag - a towel, swimsuit, short-sleeve Oxford, sunscreen, straw hat and the latest John Grisham potboiler. Beach time here is, after all, serious business. St. Barts, the chic Continental outpost in the French West Indies, boasts the cleanest beaches in the Caribbean, none more celebrated than Flamand, the snow-white strand that rests a minute's walk away.
Unfortunately on this afternoon, the beach that enchanted me on my first visit to the island in 1996 is now a damper gray. While this lush mountainous island has a mild climate with only 45 inches of rain a year (usually in September and October), it seems a tropical depression has settled over my corner of paradise, and fat raindrops thrum against the French doors to my verandah. Mother Nature is doing a little renewal work on the verdant gardens planted full of bougainvillaeas, hibiscus and birds of paradise.
What do you do when the sun takes a vacation from St. Barts? New owners Charles and Mandie have the perfect antidote for me. They suggest a little renewing of my own at the hotel's Molton Brown Spa which rose last year from the foundation of the former squash court. Fiona, the Scottish spa manager, explains that the treatments--inspired by health care products from the namesake English line--include everything from toxin-cleansing body wraps to relaxing facials and invigorating massages.
It's not surprising that the first spa on St. Barts would open at the Hotel Isle de France. The 33-room plantation-style hotel just outside the capital, Gustavia, has always been a trendy retreat for jetsetters escaping the cruise-ship crowds and day trippers. Its central location affords guests easy access both to the posh downtown boutiques like Armani, Hermes and Prada, and to the cushioned loungers lined up on Flamand Beach. Unlike neighboring islands that are really Caribbean outposts infused with European charm, St. Barts is a bit of transplanted France with a Caribbean accent.
This European flavor is felt from the gingerbread garden cottages hidden among manicured lawns and hibiscus bushes, to the busier beachfront suites whose white d?cor accented with blue trim mirrors the sand and (normally) blue sky. Rooms are done in white and cream schemes that, when set against richly polished antiques and framed prints, pull off a wonderfully classic feel. The sense of European elegance flows throughout my bungalow, even to my bathroom with its deep marble Jacuzzi bathtubs, his and her sinks, a separate shower, and--of course--a bidet.
On my last visit to the island, time spent admiring my room was fleeting. Then, as now, manageress Evelyn was a welcome fixture--mothering me with advice on where to go and what to see. Under empty blue skies, I weaved St. Barts' roads in a rented Jeep, snorkeled the cool clear bays, and sea kayaked off the coast. By the time I settled in for dinner at La Case de L'Isle--the house restaurant--for lobster ravioli or crisp Pouilly Fume, I felt more exhausted than relaxed. Thankfully, I found comfort in the fine culinary flavors accompanied by the soothing ocean view.
The relaxation this time around is of a deeper sort, and I find myself happily tucking my beach bag into the closet as I run off to the spa where I'm indulged by therapists Michaela and Sabrina. Halfway into an 80-minute Temple Tree Bliss Treatment, I wonder if the rain I hear is real, or just the soothing soundtrack from the CD player.
By the time my treatment is over, the weather has departed and St. Barts basks under a cloudless sky. On the beach below, couples pull beach chairs out from under the tented umbrellas while a sloop raises her sail in the bay. It is time to head back to my bungalow and pull out the beach bag. The gardens around me shine with an emerald brilliance in the afternoon sun, rejuvenated and refreshed. I smile. After two damp days and three spa treatments I'm surrounded by a sense of renewal I can't help but share. It almost makes me miss the rain.
Happily, I realize, rain or shine, Isle de France has everything I need.
What do you do when the sun takes a vacation from St. Barts? New owners Charles and Mandie have the perfect antidote for me. They suggest a little renewing of my own at the hotel's Molton Brown Spa which rose last year from the foundation of the former squash court. Fiona, the Scottish spa manager, explains that the treatments--inspired by health care products from the namesake English line--include everything from toxin-cleansing body wraps to relaxing facials and invigorating massages.
It's not surprising that the first spa on St. Barts would open at the Hotel Isle de France. The 33-room plantation-style hotel just outside the capital, Gustavia, has always been a trendy retreat for jetsetters escaping the cruise-ship crowds and day trippers. Its central location affords guests easy access both to the posh downtown boutiques like Armani, Hermes and Prada, and to the cushioned loungers lined up on Flamand Beach. Unlike neighboring islands that are really Caribbean outposts infused with European charm, St. Barts is a bit of transplanted France with a Caribbean accent.
This European flavor is felt from the gingerbread garden cottages hidden among manicured lawns and hibiscus bushes, to the busier beachfront suites whose white d?cor accented with blue trim mirrors the sand and (normally) blue sky. Rooms are done in white and cream schemes that, when set against richly polished antiques and framed prints, pull off a wonderfully classic feel. The sense of European elegance flows throughout my bungalow, even to my bathroom with its deep marble Jacuzzi bathtubs, his and her sinks, a separate shower, and--of course--a bidet.
On my last visit to the island, time spent admiring my room was fleeting. Then, as now, manageress Evelyn was a welcome fixture--mothering me with advice on where to go and what to see. Under empty blue skies, I weaved St. Barts' roads in a rented Jeep, snorkeled the cool clear bays, and sea kayaked off the coast. By the time I settled in for dinner at La Case de L'Isle--the house restaurant--for lobster ravioli or crisp Pouilly Fume, I felt more exhausted than relaxed. Thankfully, I found comfort in the fine culinary flavors accompanied by the soothing ocean view.
The relaxation this time around is of a deeper sort, and I find myself happily tucking my beach bag into the closet as I run off to the spa where I'm indulged by therapists Michaela and Sabrina. Halfway into an 80-minute Temple Tree Bliss Treatment, I wonder if the rain I hear is real, or just the soothing soundtrack from the CD player.
By the time my treatment is over, the weather has departed and St. Barts basks under a cloudless sky. On the beach below, couples pull beach chairs out from under the tented umbrellas while a sloop raises her sail in the bay. It is time to head back to my bungalow and pull out the beach bag. The gardens around me shine with an emerald brilliance in the afternoon sun, rejuvenated and refreshed. I smile. After two damp days and three spa treatments I'm surrounded by a sense of renewal I can't help but share. It almost makes me miss the rain.
Happily, I realize, rain or shine, Isle de France has everything I need.