Please excuse the photo of yours truly basking in all the Seychelles glory of our own private infinity pool, in our ultra-private, ultra-lux villa, at the ultra-exclusive, ultra-exotic Banyan Tree majestically perched on the side of a cliff on the edge of the Indian Ocean. I scoured the photo files to find another shot that communicates all that is good about this granddaddy of restorative destination resorts. But I just couldn’t find one.
I do, however, have a solution. Picture yourself there. It’s sunny. And hot―like 1,000 miles off the East Coast of equatorial Africa hot. The palm trees are rustling. The waves are crashing peacefully on the curious granite beach below. There’s a hint of frangipani in the air. There’s not another soul in sight. The pool is…cool. The cucumber-infused fizzy water that has been delivered to the shade of your ultra-private poolside cabana by a very nice person who smiles a lot is also…cool. You, my friend, are cool.
And then it’s time for breakfast. Glorious Eggs Benedict anyone? And oh man, they brought these intoxicating little rolls in those hopelessly exotic little baskets adorned with a delicate flower every morning. Ahhh. Can you feel it? That wonderful combination of caffeine, carbohydrates, cholesterol, and comfort that’s possible when you start your day off like this. I can.
It was a tough commute to get to our magic little villa from the hustle and bustle of the main house/dining area. But we didn’t really go out much. I mean, why would you when you’ve got this amazing window on the world with that super-comfy chaise lounge built for two…
Pretty nice, no? I shot this little walk-through after a rare and welcome rain shower had passed through. It sounds crazy but after being in the sun for almost two weeks on the utterly amazing charter we did before “escaping to the Banyan Tree” (it’s a long story that I’ll be telling in the sequel to this report), and having the previous night be one of the more weirdly uncomfortable ones that we’d ever spent on a boat thanks to some almost-imperceptible swells that rolled through where we were anchored and made the boat rock more violently than I thought possible, this was truly an oasis. And we weren’t complaining about a couple hours respite from the sun.
And then it was time to head down to the beach.
And then it was time for one of many massages. Talk about varsity-level massage. The massage therapists at the Banyan Tree are some of the most skilled, most gifted therapists in the world. It’s one of the many things that sets the Banyan Tree (wherever you may be lucky enough to experience it) apart. And the view from the massage tables is not too shabby either.
And everything in between. This shot was taken after dinner one night. It was remarkable in every way but maybe what best illustrates the legendary Banyan Tree service we experienced was what we had for dessert. Because, you see, I was dying for some chocolate cake. Nothing too fancy. It didn’t need to be “Death by Chocolate” or “Chocolate Ganache” or “Chocolate Napoleon” or anything like that. I was just yearning for some down-home, American-style chocolate cake with some vanilla ice cream on top. But there wasn’t any on the menu. Turns out that didn’t matter at all. They baked one up special. Just for us. How cool is that? Just call me Billy “Off the Menu” Swizzle.