One&Only
Le Touessrok
Mauritius


Under a spreading mango tree, the One&Only Le Touessrok greets its guests. A small bridge curves over a koi pond to Le Touessrok’s grand foyer. Soothing white stucco walls are open towards the sea. One wall, hung with fine silk, is backlit to catch the full effect of silk swaying in a tropical breeze. Freestanding columns break up the space, covered from toe to ten-foot tip with lime and burgundy anthuriums. Genial staff bears cool sherbets and drinks.

Mauritius would still be under my radar if an overnight layover hadn’t morphed into a week long retreat. Mauritius, you may not recall, is an island country, in the southern Indian Ocean, east of the larger Madagascar. Both are east of Africa’s Mozambique. Air Mauritius, it turns out, is the only airline that flies to South Africa that doesn’t leave India in the middle of the night. The bad news was, I’d have an overnight layover in Mauritius. The good news was, for the same fare, I could stay as long as I wanted. With a month of hard traveling behind me and another ahead, I signed-up for three days of R and R.

Arriving at night, I was grateful my hotel was on the Mauritius’ southwestern coast and only fifty minutes from the airport. The main resort area is over two hours north. One&Only Le Touessrok sent a car and driver to the airport for me as they do for all their new guests. It was darn nice.

My room was over a bridge, on Frangipani island, the island Le Touessrok reserves for grown-ups. Facing the sea and cleverly shielded from my neighbors by tropical verdure, I felt lusciously alone. Alone, that is, if you don’t count the butler who unpacked my bags and brought dinner. I supped under stars overlooking sea. Soon, the bed’s cool Egyptian sheets beckoned. Dreaming to the sound of the surf, I slept the sleep of the just.

In the morning, I brewed myself an Illy coffee and checked out my room, a junior suite. It’s on two levels, several steps apart. From the entrance on the second level, I could look through a pair of Creole-inspired carved wooden panels that frame the (royalty-sized) bed, past the silk cushions on the couch and out to sea. Hardwood blinds and glass doors keep the sun out and the air-con in, but when pushed all the way open it was as if there is no wall at all—just me and the sea.

A long teak desk behind the bed on the higher level also has the view. So does the tub. Behind the desk, in the ample dressing and preening space, a freestanding tub stands front and center. This is a tub’s tub. Creamy-colored and egg-shaped, it’s made of poured marble and smooth concrete. It holds a large couple or small family—but children under 16 are not allowed in this part of the resort. Along the side walls a matched set of vanities and closets are arrayed with so many Moulton Brown lotions, potions and soaps that I’d need days to sample them.

What was I thinking? Two nights would not cut it at Le Touessrok. Pronto, I called Air Mauritius to extend my stay.

Now, with a whole week to explore, I expected to be able to tell you all about this intriguing-sounding island. Passing from the Dutch to the French to the British before independence in 1968, it retained traits of each culture. The descendants of African slaves, Indian and Chinese workers—brought to Mauritius to work the sugar cane fields—add more spice to the mix. The official language is English, but people converse mainly in French or Creole when not speaking Hindi, Urdu, Hakka or Bhojpuri. Within this whole heady curry, everyone, reportedly, gets along. Miles of beaches, interior forests, fresh water lakes and lively towns—fruitful explorations must abound.

I fear, however, I fell into a regular One&Only rut. I left the One&Only once—to catch my onward flight. The first day, I eased down to the Frangipani pool. Positioning a chaise carefully, water’s calming sounds surrounded me—waves cresting on my left and the pool’s waterfall splashing on my right. One&Only ‘beach butlers’ wandering by with offerings of fresh fruit, juices and drinks. No additional movement seemed necessary.

On the second day, I made it as far as the Givenchy spa where I went for some serious relaxation—and got it. I also made it back across the bridge to begin my exploration on the lush and intriguing paths that weave through the resort where each bend held a fresh tropical vista—here a bit of ocean behind a travelers’ palm, there the sensuous curve of an arch garlanded with bougainvillea.

Le Touessrok’s mainland has a long curving beach, more rooms—some for families—more pools, more restaurants and more happening. I got a book from the library, checked my email and returned to my own island. Speeding up only when I neared the very up-to-date gym—fearing one of their personal trainers might pounce.

One day, in a burst of ambition, I did take the five minute boat ride to Le Touessrok’s own private island, Ilot Mangénie. It’s the very picture of deserted tropical isle, except for the casual Crusoe’s bar where Mr. Robinson himself will serve you a rum concoction. Lounge chair set nearly in the surf, cool drink in hand—why move?

On one of Le Touessrok’s boats, I might have ferried over to the action island of Ile aux Cerfs. There, at Le Touessrok’s boathouse I might have indulged in a one or another of their water sports like water-skiing or sailing. I might have hit the links at Le Touessrok’s new par 72 golf course or dined Paul and Verginie, another of the hotel’s fine restaurants. I might even have taken a look under the Mauritian waters with Le Touessrok’s scuba pros. But then again, I might not.

I was the complete layabout, varying only my view, not my activities—loafing, sunning and being utterly taken care of.

Once in a while, you get lucky.

By Kate Crawford    March  2005

LINKS WITH ATTITUDE                           

Le Touessrok on the web.