Our final full day and night were spent at Jalousie Plantation, the luxe resort on the island.While we kind of wished we'd stayed here the entire week, I did not regret our time at Ladera, which gave us a nature-lover's experience of 3-wall rooms, a greater understanding of insects, and is overall, probably the second best resort of St. Lucia that had the finest views. Certainly not roughing it. At all. Jalousie, however, is the place to go if you want to be pampered for a night. And since it was our honeymoon and we like to be prissy at least a third of the time, we switched to Jalousie for the night after snagging a really sweet deal (our villa was much cheaper because we booked a last-minute single night stay at 30% off). It was like a secret compound that only Europeans and celebrities vacationed at.
We had what was basically a nice-sized apartment (bigger than where we live) with two bathrooms, a large deck with a heated pool, and a butler to tend to our errands. A butler?! This was something new to me. The room was air-conditioned (not many places in St. Lucia are, apparently) and there were hardly any mosquitoes to be seen. It even had an espresso machine. Upon further thinking, I am very glad that we did not stay here the entire time, as we may not have ventured past Jalousie's white beaches and not experienced much of the island's sites and trails while we were there. Not when the perfect hideaway was right here.
I had to take a video tour of our digs. If we ever design a piece of luxury, I want it to look a lot like this.
Lunch at Jalousie Plantation's Bayside Restaurant impressed us with bright, refreshing salads and a taste of home, steamed soymilk (so hard to come by as many cafes just did not stock it) with our post-lunch coffee. It was one of the more modern restaurants we found. Rustic, spirited Creole cuisine was starting to wear its welcome.
We did some poolside lounging on suspended beds. The beach was a few feet away, but we had already visited the beach on Tuesday and were drawn to the lake-sized pool that was off-limits to us then, as non-guests.
I decided to get in a nap. I have never known such relaxation. I was starting to get a little bit of color, even though I piled on layers of sunscreen throughout the days. We were that close to the sun in the mountains. Yes, this is colorful for me.
Later that evening, we dressed up in what I call "Country Club Veg" and waited for the resort shuttle to take us to the Cane Bar, the hotel's rum lounge. Black form-fitting shift dress with gold sandals with a tiny heel and pearls for me. Prada polo and rolled up khakis with Topsiders for the man. The dumb kid from Fishtown in me is really good at dressing up. You had to shuttle everywhere on the resort because the hills were so steep and not safe to walk on because the shuttle vans were likely to knock you off the blind roads.
I asked for the wildest rum & diet Coke combo - Angostura 1919 Premium Rum as recommended by my rum connoisseur husband (would I ever have any other kind of husband?) It careened down my throat with vanilla and then I suggested we head to the empty back room, which reminded me of a slick Miami lounge, as sad as that sounds. There were parts of it that I liked and then some furniture that just felt too pushy, but my drink was delicious.
We moved on to the Great Room, a restaurant that was one floor above, for a savvy vegetarian dinner. The room was grand, elegant, and indeed, a great room.
We began with our first hummus of the honeymoon - so beany and comforting, with crusty wheat rolls from the bread dude. Whenever there is a bread dude, you know your meal will kick ass and take names.
I started with a cucumber and yogurt soup, that had a peppery kick to it. Josh said I made funny faces while eating it and that it was the most expressive I have ever looked.
He had a dreamy risotto that was brazenly truffled with jerky-like mushrooms. I stole a few bites.
So yes, we spent our final night in a closed room like a bunch of girls, but it was like dessert at the end of a filling, high-flying meal. You don't need it, but in a way, you do.