There are hotels for everything
Every moviegoer hides a secret history with Marilyn , I ever read go who knows where. In the same way – all of us who love hotels imagine a hotel for each important scene of our lives: a hotel to live in (what a sweet dream, to live in a hotel), a hotel to isolate yourself, a hotel to mess up (very) brown and a hotel where to escape. A hotel where you can write, a hotel where you can get married and even a hotel where you can get a divorce.
And of course, a hotel where you can lock yourself in tight for four days and go out just for the newspaper (if that) and recover strength with some scrambled eggs and three coffees. Those destinations away from the madding crowd where you know what you are going for, she knows what you are going for and even the last trainee buttons she knows what you are going for . Yes, there is a spa and green fee and bike tours, but this is a sex trip without rest and no more talk. These are our destinations chosen for such an impudent purpose.
ASIA GARDENS
The Southeast Asian vibe (what's the point of fooling around) has always had something lewd and tiki taka about it. A hotel that is a small island between Benidorm and the Serra d'Aitana, more than 370,000 square meters with 110,000 trees and rare species. Small apartments hidden among flowers (thousands of flowers), ponds, lakes and streams. And to me, that nature makes me goofy, I couldn't like this concept of a Dionysian garden more, where there is nothing to do but sleep, eat, bed and rest. Everything's fine.
Yes: King size bed, 2 by 2, couples massage (aha) Nuad Nam Mun Balinese , Becara wood everywhere and the Koh Samui restaurant where the dim sums are wonderful.
Asia Gardens: green makes us silly
MORE FROM TORRENT
Más de Torrent is an old Catalan farmhouse from the 18th century hidden in l´Empordà and one of the cutest jewels of the Relais & Châteaux. And it is that these Catalans: how well they do everything (as my mother says), More than Torrent is an establishment discreet, quiet and traditional , where everything works like clockwork, the cellar hides more than four hundred bottles and (most importantly) the suites have a garden and private pool . Swimming pool. Private. I say no more.
Yes: Eating in a "charming" hotel is always an incalculable risk, however Más de Torrent has among its kitchens Fine Puigdevall , (also chef of the restaurant Les Cols d'Olot with two Michelin stars) .
More from Torrent: all good
TORRALBENC
Setting foot on the Islands has always had something telluric, remote, exotic and mysterious . It's easy —in some lost cove in the middle of May, to feel a little freer, more dissolute, more loose. Torralblenc (an old agricultural construction with fantastic sea views) it's perfect for a ladino microtrip ; away from the noise, the Balinese beds and the compilation CDs of El Café del Mar. Everything here is peace, gardens and simple things: bread with tomato, olive oil and red wine in the afternoon. That is to say: all day in bed.
Yes: The kitchen is Paco Morales' thing, an immense talent, a privileged coconut who touched gastronomic heaven (I did) during his adventure at the Hotel Ferrero. Reconquering Madrid in his fun Al Trapo, His most personal cuisine can be found here.
Torralbenc: the islands give us calves
FINCA CORTESIN
Cortesín is (until today) the "secret" of more than two and more than three good men whose names don't matter but we all know. Spectacular mansion in Casares, between Marbella and Sotogrande , at the foot of Sierra Bermeja and with panoramic views of the Mediterranean. And despite being here (Marbella, ahem) a fantastic example of what true luxury should be: discretion, space, architecture (the work of Roger Torras and Ignacio Serra), gardens (by Gerald Huggan), tradition (I want to know where I am, and every corner of Cortesín breathes Andalusia: porches, attics, doors and stones) and silence. Finca Cortesín has won all the awards in the world but more important than all that is the hunch that no one has ever taken her to a place like it.
Yes: again, the pittance. Hold on, curves are coming: Kabuki Raw (Grupo Kabuki) and Don Giovanni, the work of the incomparable Andrea Tumbarello. Nigiri of butterfish with truffle and Raviolacci of cheese, walnuts and (again) truffle. There is nothing.
Finca Cortesín, a well-kept secret
**IGLOO IN GRANDVALIRA**
If you have the misfortune (others call it luck, but the article is mine, friends) to fall in love with a lover of "adventure and risk" perhaps the best option is to raise the blind and make the definitive all-in: sex in an igloo Grandvalira, the union of the Pas de la Casa-Grau Roig and Soldeu-El Tarter resorts in Andorra —as well as one of the best ski resorts in Europe (but we're not here to talk about slopes, what a pain in the ass) hides a couple of more interesting things: the vodka bar (that is) which can only be accessed by snowshoes or snowmobiles and mushing. And the most important: the Igloo Hotel, located at an altitude of 2,350 meters , built with 100% snow at 0º, with a jacuzzi and dog sled rides. They give you the blankets and there is no TV and it is very cold: I will say no more.
Yes: You will tell your grandchildren and it will be the sparkliest anecdote of all birthdays: Grandpa, is it true that you fornicated in an igloo?
One night in the Grandvalira igloo
W BARCELONA
He is usually demanding with these getaways and takes care of two or three basic details: l **liters of champagne (aha), room service after hours (yes) ** and that he is far from the big cities. Let me explain: spending the night in Madrid, Barcelona or Seville is distracting —too many restaurants, human beings and leisure offers competing against you and your bathrobe. What if he decides to see, what do I know, a musical on the Gran Vía? I'll tell you what happens: fuck the plan. However, an exception to the rule: W Barcelona. Far enough away from the little shops of Passeig de Gràcia and the modern ones of Raval but close enough to enjoy the best views of Barcelona.
Yes: It is true, everything in this immense aluminum and glass candle designed by Ricardo Bofill seems conceived for the most jovial hedonism: the musicon, the psychotropic lighting, the spirit, in short, Hangover IV: Hangover in Barcelona. But trust me: its rooms, its bathtub and its windows facing the Barceloneta promenade.
Barcelona, at a safe distance