This All-Inclusive Barbados Resort Reminded Me What Real Relaxation Feels Like

The last time I was in Barbados was 14 years ago. I’d had a particularly turbulent year and booked a last-minute trip with my best friend. I remember lying on the beach and saying to her, “I sort of feel tired, but I don’t want to sleep. I’m not sure what that is.”

She looked at me and said, “You’re relaxed.”

I not only realized that she was right, but that I had become unfamiliar with the feeling.

So, fast-forward 14 years later, and I was back in Barbados, ready to feel sort of tired without wanting to sleep. And, of course, to down a rum punch pretty much straight off the plane.

This time, however, I’m happy to report that I leveled up significantly.

The Property

For those unfamiliar, Barbados is a small island with the Atlantic on its east coast and the Caribbean Sea to the west. The west coast is home to some of the island’s most expansive properties and beaches, so perfect you assume the photographs have been retouched.

On this particularly lovely stretch of coast in Holetown sits Royalton Vessence Barbados, an Autograph Collection all-inclusive resort. Nearby is Sandy Lane, the legendary hotel that has welcomed everyone from Frank Sinatra to Mick Jagger since opening in 1961. Its pink parasols, pristine sands, and old-money glamour offer some context for the neighborhood; this is a coast with a long history of catering to people who expect to be very well looked after. The water is calm, and the sea is the sort of blue that makes whatever is happening in your inbox feel temporarily irrelevant.

The hotel has 220 suites, with a contemporary, pared-back approach to the rooms and an emphasis on local art, music, and experiences. There’s a rooftop pool and bar, a spa with a hydrotherapy circuit, and a fitness program offering yoga, tai chi, and expressive movement. Plenty to do, should doing things be your intention.

As for me, my intention was mostly to stop doing things. Earlier this year, a tree fell on my house. Having tried unsuccessfully to manage absolutely everything, I was ready to let someone else take over.

I’d like to feel as supported in life as I do at the Royalton. Emotionally. Organizationally. Spiritually.

Also, did I mention I have a butler? A butler. Why don’t I have a butler in New York?

Need a reservation? No problem. Need a drink? Here it is. Need something I hadn’t yet realized I needed? Apparently that’s been taken care of, too.

Butler service comes with selected suite categories, and it turns out to be a very effective way of removing the small decisions that usually occupy an unreasonable amount of my day. This is, obviously, a false reality. A one-week reality, specifically. The alarming part is how quickly I’ve become accustomed to it.

The people in Barbados are what have always made this island so special to me. There’s a life and a joy here that’s intoxicating. It makes you question the logic of spending 50 weeks of the year working to afford two weeks at the beach. Why not just live at the beach?

The Royalton feels like a warm hug, a rhythmic one, to a soundtrack of steel drums and Rihanna. The staff are so cheerful they make Trader Joe’s employees seem like they might need cheering up. More than anything, though, they make you feel cared for. It’s difficult to remain tightly wound when everyone around you seems so committed to helping you unravel.

The Room

I went into this trip wanting a view. Specifically, the post-tanning, post-shower, pre-dinner cocktail-on-a-balcony sort of view. I had given this itinerary considerable thought.

Instead, I was fortunate enough to be upgraded to a junior suite with swim-up access. I decided to tough it out.

The rooms have the practical comforts you want in this climate: air conditioning, a ceiling fan, a rain shower, and a terrace or balcony. But the pool outside my room was the real revelation.

Swim-up rooms tend to be sold through images of daytime lounging. And yes, I can see the appeal. Personally, if the Caribbean is right there, that’s generally where I want to be.

What those photographs are missing is the nighttime plunge.

After dinner, when the air is still warm and humid, you can return to your room and step straight into the water. No gathering your belongings. No expedition through the hotel in a robe. Just a few steps from your own terrace, with the island’s whistling frogs providing the soundtrack.

I hadn’t anticipated how much I would love this. The water, the night air, the complete absence of anything I needed to accomplish. It was one of the most freeing feelings I’ve had in years.

Tell me something more delightful. Actually, don’t. I’m quite happy with this.

Restaurants

My wife and I ventured out for dinner at The Cliff, where tables perch above a small cove and the sea below is floodlit—because apparently the Caribbean is too good a backdrop to lose after dark, but mainly ate at the Royalton. Between Hunter Steakhouse, La Scala, the Italian restaurant, and Moi Aussi, the French eatery, there was enough variety to make staying put feel like a choice rather than a compromise.

There’s something particularly lovely about getting ready for dinner knowing that the entire journey involves walking just a few steps. No taxis to arrange. No discussion about who’s navigating. Just shower, dress, and go to dinner. A level of logistical simplicity I could get very used to.

Mornings began with the breakfast buffet, and poolside snacks took care of the gaps in between. I can’t remember exactly what I ordered, which probably tells you how successfully I’d stopped keeping track of things.

I do, however, remember cocktail hour.

In the afternoons, I swam up to the bar in the main pool for what I like to call my sundowners. Was the sun actually going down yet? Not necessarily. I consider the term flexible.

There are few things more conducive to feeling on holiday than ordering a cocktail without getting out of the water. No shoes, no bag, no immediate plans. Just an afternoon drink and the rather satisfying realization that this is all you have to do for a while.

After Dark

Barbados celebrates its culture with such ease that it never feels performed. Rihanna is, of course, present — on posters for hair and nail salons she may or may not have visited, and in karaoke bars in St. Lawrence Gap, where her songs receive interpretations of wildly varying ambition. She’s a national icon, but it all feels affectionate and matter-of-fact. The local musicians performing at the hotel, meanwhile, make it clear that the island’s talent extends well beyond its most famous export.

I’ve been fortunate enough to see Prince perform live twice, so “Purple Rain” is not a song I’m easily impressed by someone else singing. It’s a big song to take on, particularly in front of someone mentally preparing to be difficult about it. But a local band delivered an effortless rendition during the Royalton’s “Pop, Rock and Fire” night — a name that doubles as a fairly confident forecast. Their singer somehow made it feel entirely at home in the lounge bar, with the Caribbean just outside.

I came for the beach. I hadn’t expected to be quite so taken by the evenings.

The Neighborhood

Although the butler does make a compelling case for staying put, there are good reasons to leave the hotel.

One of mine was monkeys.

At the Barbados Wildlife Reserve, you can walk among tortoises and watch the island’s green monkeys moving through the trees. Arrive around the afternoon feeding time and the monkeys you hadn’t realized were overhead suddenly make themselves known. Fruit appears, and the dining room fills up.

As one local explained it to me, people coexist with the monkeys. Humans don’t bother the monkeys, and the monkeys don’t bother them. But if you’re carrying a banana, that belongs to the monkey.

You’re not allowed to feed them yourself. When I tell you the temptation is strong, I mean it. (The hands. The little hands with the little nails. And the babies. Oh, the babies.)

The monkeys run around you on their way to the food, and you find yourself with a seat at their dining table. I loved them. All of them. I would have gone every day.

My ticket was $30. As an animal lover, this is possibly the best $30 you’ll spend on the island.

Then there’s seeing Barbados from the water. Our catamaran trip took us from Bridgetown along the west coast, with stops to snorkel over small shipwrecks and look for turtles. Brightly colored fish swam around us, and for a while the only thing requiring my attention was what was happening beneath the surface.

Barbados’ waters are home to green and hawksbill turtles, so there’s good reason to keep looking. Even without a sighting, spending the day sailing this coastline would be enough.

By the journey back, I was slightly tipsy on one or three rum punches, with the kind of tan you only seem to get on a boat.

Naturally, we followed this with shopping.

Limegrove Lifestyle Centre in Holetown offers duty-free shopping at Ralph Lauren, Michael Kors, and Cartier, among others. A relatively small shopping center with some very big names, and a dangerous place to discover after an afternoon of rum punch-ing.

I’ve dubbed this particular form of retail therapy “shots and shops.”

The rum makes the sting of being relieved of your cash a little easier to swallow, while your credit card gets to join in the holiday activities. Add duty-free prices and suddenly girl math has entered the conversation. Purchasing something starts to feel financially responsible.

I’m not saying the logic holds up. I’m saying it held up at the time.

Back At The Royalton

Eventually, I returned to the hotel, where the sea was still blue, the staff were still lovely, and the pool outside my room was waiting for its evening shift.

Fourteen years ago, I needed my best friend to tell me I was relaxed. This time, I recognized it immediately. Somewhere between having the small things taken care of and slipping into the water after dinner, that unfamiliar feeling had returned.

I sort of felt tired, but I didn’t want to sleep.

I knew exactly what that was.